We Wretched Creatures

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<h2>////''RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight''</h2> <h3> //Late 1844// Wet socks meant death. <<audio "forest" loop play>> He didn’t know exactly how or why he retained this little piece of knowledge from his physician father, but it had plagued his mind since the incident. He had heard that in times of physical turmoil, the extremities were the most sensitive and, thus, the most prone to sickness. So many feet his father had amputated in the boy’s youth. His feet were wet, his hands were damp and bleeding at the seams, and his hair was a ghastly clumped ball of brown that usually resembled a nice chestnut but now had the makings of manure. He wasn’t the most fit of men, but he still had enough stamina to commandeer his beloved and now-gone Sea Bird, the last remnants of his ship scattered on the shoreline and in the ocean’s depths. It was supposed to be clear weather with maybe a slight downpour, as one is to expect as a captain, but the storm that overtook them was a natural monstrosity, cruel in its surprise attack and relentless in its warring. After four hours of braving the violent winds and waves, he was the only crew member left. //__ [[NEXT ->Page 2]] __ // </h3>

<h3> The captain was a coward. He thought it about himself. He needed to go down with his ship and crew, but he did not. Why did he cling so hard to his own life and let others drown in his stead? Of course, asking this to himself was useless as he never did answer to his selfishness all his life. After crawling to shore, he realized he had landed in a place surrounded by trees so immense that he could not see the night sky underneath them. He walked, walked, walked and walked for an amount of time he did not remember, but the hollow feeling in his stomach, the fatigue of his eyes and the pain vibrating from his lower back to the soles of his feet seemed to indicate it had been a few days. All around him, all he saw were trees, tall trees, mossy trees, barren trees, fallen trees, fallen trees, trees with speckles of white bark, trees with nooks in the trunk, trees that felt weak and trees that felt strong. Just a sea of trees that never ended. He felt like Theseus in the labyrinth, except at least he had known what awaited him, where he had come from, and where he was going. //This// man did not. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 3]]//__ </h3>

<h3> But everything looked the same. There was no indication that he was making progress through this place, and he began to think he was passing the same trees over and over again. If starvation, dehydration, or foot illnesses didn’t get him, it would be exposure to natural elements. He was never much of a believer. His mother had to drag his unwilling body to church every Sunday for morning mass, and he would wail and wail in the pews until she would yank him outside and behind the building to give him something to cry about, truly. He had never needed for anything, and so he had never prayed. But as day five or six came to a close, he found a sputtering of words gently squeezing themselves out from between the edges of his closed teeth. He didn’t know what he was saying but repeated the Lord’s name after all the bemoaning he was doing. If only he had listened to his mother’s devotions, he would have known how to perform this task correctly. He continued with a more coherent speech order. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 5]]//__ </h3>

<h3>When he was in the midst of another round of begging, he heard a soft crack a few paces away to his right. His eyes rapidly shot open, and he jerked his heavy, dirty head in that direction. From left to right, his eyes went from that area, from the tree trunk to further darkness and the tree trunk again. One beat, two beats, three beats. The only sound was the dancing of the leaves high up. @@.fade-in;//''Crack''//@@. He got up. @@.fade-in;//''Crack''//@@. Further ahead but still to his right. @@.fade-in;//''Crack''//@@. He placed one foot forward and hesitated. What is this? @@.fade-in;//''Crack''//@@. He could lay down and die by a tree, or he could die searching for salvation. At a slightly faster pace than his usual walk, he began to follow the loud singular cracks that came in intervals. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 6]]//__ </h3>

<h3> As he tried to dodge fallen branches, roots and his own two swollen feet, he squinted at the darkness, trying to see whatever this was leading him. But his human eyes only registered the deep and impenetrable black that had encased him for days... He thought of the dove that led Hansel and Gretel right into the clutches of the cannibalistic witch. Could this be why these woods are so strange? Have the animals all fled, or have they been hunted? Is he just willingly and stupidly going to his death instead of salvation? He continues despite these questions whirling around like the waves that caused his misfortune. He takes two steps. A crack. He takes two steps. A crack. He takes two steps. Nothing. He takes two more steps. Nothing. His stomach plunges as he suddenly thinks it may have abandoned him or that he has lost it. His steps become more frantic now, and soon, he is running at neckbreak speed, which he did not know he was still capable of. The only possibility in days and it was slipping away from him. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 7]]//__ </h3>

<h3> His shoulders would ram into trunks painfully, but he’d only momentarily stagger, grasp one in turn and then the other as needed before continuing his desperation. He ran, and he ran, and he knew not how long it was. He felt like he would be running forever, like a dream in which the closer you seem to achieve some movement, you realize you have not moved a fraction of an inch. He curses. He takes the Lord’s name in vain. He damns his prayers and himself as he dodges the woods in the dark. The small point between his hips pinches and makes his legs feel as if tiny ants are crawling over each other in great mounds under his skin. His shoulders throb akin to the bump to the skull, and his feet, his wet and swollen and decaying feet, feel as if they’ll slip off his body like shoes. What sin is he paying for? He resigns himself. He’ll run for eternity. These woods will never end. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 8]]//__ </h3>

<h3> Only when the sweat pouring like a bucket of water down his eyes blinds him does he stop. Or rather, he trips over his mangled feet and tumbles face-first into the damp earth. One more crack echoed in the first for good measure between his cheeks. He tried to breathe in deeply to calm the rage building beneath his chest, but that merely caused a sharp pain to veer from his nose to his forehead and into his skull. Placing his hands face down on the fertile soil, he bent his elbows and slowly pushed his torso and dangling head from the ground. With one hand, he furiously wiped the sweat and dirt from his eyes, and gently, with the side of his thumb, he cleaned the blood dribbling from his nose to his mouth. The metallic taste settling on his taste buds had been the only taste of anything he had received in days. It was, in a way, refreshing. Defeated and expecting nothing but dashed chances, he lifted his head up to the reflection of the trees. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 9]]//__ </h3>

<h3> They remained just as formidable and dark in the water as they did in front of him. With depleted strength, he added pressure to his ailing back and raised himself on scuffed, wobbly knees. Water, yes. He couldn’t risk his feet any longer. He crawled like a babe. Pin needles stabbing into his knees and aches shooting down his arms, he went. A few paces, and he was there. He had not seen his face in what felt like decades. He was twenty-nine, but he could no longer tell that from his dead eyes, ashen skin and strands of grey tainting his hair. Not to mention the mess this place has made of him. He gingerly laid his palm up in the water and shuddered at the coldness that invaded him. He had been damp this entire time, but this near-freezing water seemed to seep into his skin and travel through his body like a curse. From left to right, his gaze surveyed the lake, and he did not see any moment, not a hint of a ripple in the water. The only surety that this was even here and that he had not lost his mind was his well-known moon that guided him at sea on countless nights and its reflection in the exact center of the lake. As the moonlight bathed his features, this desolate man sighed and closed his eyes. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 10]]//__ </h3>

<h3> As he once again looked at his surroundings, he almost missed it. It wasn’t a big thing. In other circumstances, he would not have seen anything, but anxiety caused him to detail anything of note that could prevent his death. There was a circle of light across the lake between two trunks. As he watched, the light grew brighter in a warm yellow colour. The colour, he thought, of a flame. It did not flicker as such lights do, but it grew warmer. He knew this because he could feel it in his bones. Suddenly, another appeared a few paces away. And another a bit higher up. One close to a branch centimetres up. One seemingly lying on the forest floor. All bright, immovable flames in the dark. They were there as if waiting to see what he would do. If he ran, would they follow? Would they appear all over now and printed onto his eyelids as he closed them? What if they didn’t? He would be stuck in the darkness once again. Going through a maze of insanity until he plucked his eyes out. He had a choice between an evil he knew and an evil he didn’t. There had never been a man more in love with his preservation. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 11]]//__ </h3>

<h3> He did not know what he was doing nor if it was the correct way to proceed, but he raised his arm and slowly waved once to the flames. Not a second passed before the flames flickered simultaneously, and he took that as a sign that they had accepted and reciprocated his gesture. The flurrying of emotions that had accosted him since he had landed in this place dissipated, and he was left with what could be described as almost like peace. He wouldn’t admit to himself that underneath that peace, hiding behind the E, was a smidge of fear. The worst fear he had ever experienced. The fear that comes from evils incomprehensible to the human mind. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 12]]//__ </h3>

<h3> He would clean himself up first, of course. <<audio "forest" stop>> As a captain and a man of good stock, he knew how physical appearance influenced business, and he knew that whatever was sold to him, he would buy because he was scared to die. All he had to do was make sure the benefits outweighed the cost. Josiah Croun was, after all, a selfish man. //[[A QUICK WORD ->A quick word]]// </h3>

<h2> S1 EPISODE 1: My Whole Existence is Flawed. You Bring Me Closer to God </h2> <h3>//Early September 1994// In a hypothetical sense, let us say a bird chanced upon the town. Foreign birds usually do not do so. The birds of the town are born there, live out their lives there and die there, much like its people. But if a bird were passing through on its way somewhere else – somewhere better – it would first see a sea of darkness in nearly all directions. But if it couldn’t be fooled and kept staring, it would first begin to see dim pinpoints of light. The lights would soon grow ever-so brighter from in the labyrinth of trees all in one area. If the bird did not look away, it would see the lights in irregular rows illuminating a series of streets. Modelled almost medieval European in its clustered enclosure, chaotic twisting concrete lanes and dirt paths leading to who-knows-where with a variety of roofs indicating homes, entertainment venues and educational institutions all leading to the heart where the city hall and its square lay. The town is like an island, surrounded on all ends by the nearly perfectly shaped lake; its dark, gleaming water never lights enough to see to the bottom. The lake was kept pristine, with the only thing interrupting its flow being the one singular bridge that served as the town entrance and exit. Any aspect of the town might go into decay, but never the lake. [[NEXT ->Page 13]] </h3>

<center><h1>//// ''We Wretched Creatures''////</h1></center> <center><h2>[[Begin. ->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]]</h2></center>

By: Jude R.

<h3> Was it day three when he noticed it? He had been so focused on maintaining an upright posture against the roots of the forest floor that not until very late he had gotten the thought //it is so very quiet.// He had heard rustling during his time here in the darkness, but it was high up at the tops of the trees, which he could not see for their immense height. It was the wind that never reached where he was. There were no birds that made homes, even on the lowest branches. No squirrels or chipmunks that sheltered themselves in the trunks of trees. When he would bend down to look under the sideways trunks littering the ground, he could not even see the shell of any insect, much less any telltale signs that any resided there. The only noise for kilometres was the soil-y earth crunching beneath his nearly dissolved boots. He would rest with his back against a trunk for a few hours and then begin trudging again in the same direction. What was he to drink? What was he to eat? He would lose his feet soon if he didn’t dry himself. __ //[[NEXT ->Page 4]]//__ </h3>

<a data-passage="Characters">Characters</a> <a data-passage="You">You</a> <a data-passage="Symbol Explanations">Symbol Explanations</a>

<h4> __In Order of Appearance__ //Josiah Rafael Croun// **Your ancestor. Was lost and then found. Died 1864. //Arthur// **The family chauffeur. Has been working for the family since the early 80s. //Orla Calliope Crown// **Your older sister. Adored as equally envied. Died 1992. //Salvatore “Sally“ Brennus Crown// **Your older brother and the heir presumptive of the family fortune and legacy. ***<<if $Worth < 2 && $Worthless < 2>>Your brother cares for you.<<elseif $Worth >= 2 && $Worth < 5>>He doesn’t like your defiance.<<elseif $Worth >= 5>>He doesn’t like what he sees.<<elseif $Worthless >= 2 && $Worthless < 5>>You’re the apple of his eye.<<elseif $Worthless >= 5>>He couldn’t have asked for a better sibling than you.<<elseif $Worth > $Worthless && $Worth >= 2 && $Worth <= 5>>He’s worried.<<elseif $Worth > $Worthless and $Worth > 5>>He’s 'very' worried.<<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>>Overall he isn’t worried... yet.<<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless > 5>>He’s happy you seem to understand.<<elseif $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>>He doesn’t know what to make of you and that is something he doesn’t like.<</if>> //Percival “Percy“ Evander Crown// **Your second older brother. Aimless and rude. ***<<if $PercyBond is < 2>>He doesn’t like you.<<elseif $PercyBond >= 2 && $PercyBond < 5>>He thinks you aren’t so bad.<<elseif $PercyBond >= 5 && $PercyBond < 8>>He’s fond of you... in his own way.<<elseif $PercyBond >8>>He does love you.<</if>> //Imre Alonzo Duran// ** The town sweetheart. The golden sheen of his heart is easily wiped away. <div class="vhs" style="text-align: center; margin: 2em auto;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/refs/heads/main/image-28.PNG" alt="Haunted portrait"> </div> //Nia Cyra Mir// ** The richest girl in town and your former best friend. A seemingly impenetrable box with a fitted key. <div class="vhs" style="text-align: center; margin: 2em auto;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/refs/heads/main/Resized_image-47%20(1).JPEG" alt="Haunted portrait"> </div> //Lorcan Winter Stark// ** Your archnemesis. Your sister's ex. The most valuable things are found in the muck. <div class="vhs" style="text-align: center; margin: 2em auto;"> <img src="https://raw.githubusercontent.com/ragingviolets/images/main/Resized_image-47.JPEG" alt="Haunted portrait"> </div> <<back>> </h4>

\ \ \ \ \ \ <center><h1> ''PART ONE'' //I am the way into the city of woe, I am the way into eternal pain, I am the way to go amongst the lost - Dante Alighieri//</h1></center> <center> <h2> __ //[[NEXT ->Episode 1: My Whole Existence is Flawed]]//__ </h2> </center>

<h3>The bird leaves, but we stay focused on this place here. A place someone cannot find on a map. It is an extremely hard place to chance upon; the only people who can find it are those who know of it. A place either rejected by the world or a place that spurned it. It is a relatively peaceful existence. Due to the lack of welcome given to outsiders and intermarrying, the population is predominantly white and has an unhealthy balance of males versus females. The skies in the daytime stay consistently grey throughout most of the year, and the rain falls on schedule and is non-bothersome except for the winter months. It’s a town that gently rises in the morning and lays down to relax early into the night. Because it is so unchanging in its physical aspect and the quotidian days, no one complains about the occurrences that might seem odd to a non-resident. It wasn’t horrifying in 1921 when it rained blood for weeks; it was an annoyance. It isn’t odd that the librarian has seemingly been working at the library for over a hundred years and looks the same; it’s effective. Of course, some things might seem alarming, such as the Great Malady of 1983, when all the town’s children caught a mysterious illness of unknown origin that lasted a little over a year. But no child died; the worst thing that occurred was that all the kids merely redid the year they were last in and now are older than they should be for their grades. [[NEXT ->Page 14]] </h3>

<h3>Nothing has changed the deep fabric of this place they called Croun in more than a century, and life will continue for it. Only as one moves in closer do you begin to see the jagged slashes obscured by the pretty quaintness. It’s not in the structures, nor the trees, or water but in the most cavernous recess of the people’s psyche. One such example is not here. Still waiting. But thousands of kilometres away, passing over cities, parks and long stretches of desolate fields, we land on a white, unsuspecting three-story building. <<audio "crowny" loop play>> The edifice is intact, dark and quiet. The air smells of disinfectant and dust, such as it hugs the windows, the desks in the unused rooms of the cellar and the lamps hanging from the ceilings. Tens of identical doors align an undescriptive clean corridor. All white with small windows at eye level and a number written neatly but almost faded on the doors. In room 27, we pass the small window into a darkened room. The rays of moonlight bathing the tiles and the bed. There are no pictures on the walls, no flowers in the plastic vase on the nightstand and barely any possessions apart from a few hospital gowns peeking out from the slightly open drawers of a dresser. The air smells in here just as it smells outside on the premises. But none of this is more important than the figure asleep on the bed. We refer to this creature as a <<listbox "$pronouns">> <<option 'she'>> <<option 'he'>><</listbox>>. [[NEXT->Page 15]] </h3>

<h3>The air smells in here just as it smells outside on the premises. But none of this is more important than the figure asleep on the bed. The gown clings to $hisher <<listbox "$body">> <<option 'angular'>> <<option 'stocky'>> <<option 'plump'>><<option 'lithe'>><<option 'average'>> <</listbox>> frame and the sweat lays like diamonds on the base of $hisher <<listbox "$skin">> <<option 'pale'>> <<option 'fair'>> <<option 'tanned'>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'dark brown'>><<option 'brown and white patched'>><</listbox>> neck and above $hisher tightly squeezed <<listbox "$eyecolor">> <<option 'gray'>> <<option 'blue'>> <<option 'brown'>><<option 'green'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'brown and blue'>><<option 'brown and gray'>><<option 'green and blue'>><</listbox>> eyes. This creature lies back with $hisher arms down by $hisher sides, held by the straps of leather encircling $hisher wrists. The blanket has been thrown unceremoniously on the floor as $hisher legs kick around without direction or direct purpose. $capitalhisher eyes move frantically under $hisher eyelids as if trying to run from something in $hisher dreams when <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>she instantly opens her eyes and strains to sit up against the straps that dig into the already raw skin of her wrists<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>he instantly opens his eyes and strains to sit up against the straps that dig into the already raw skin of his wrists<</if>>. The creature lays back down on the humid sheets of $hisher bed and turns $hisher head towards the bright moon framed by the large barred window of $hisher room. $capitalhisher breath comes out in spurts, and $heshe can hear the beating of $hisher heart in $hisher ears.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> But she doesn't know why<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>But he doesn't know why.<</if>>. A <<listbox "$wow">> <<option 'sigh'>> <<option 'chuckle'>> <<option 'whimper'>><<option 'gulp'>> <</listbox>>. $capitalheshe can’t remember at all what $hisher nightmare was. [[NEXT ->Page 17]] </h3>

<h3>Of course. It's never been any other way. <<set $pronouns>> [[NEXT ->Page 16]] </h3> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ <<set $heshe to 'she'>> <<set $capitalheshe to 'She'>> <<set $hisher to 'her'>> <<set $capitalhisher to 'Her'>> <<set $himher to 'her'>> <<set $capitalhimher to 'Her'>> <<set $hishers to 'hers'>> <<set $capitalhishers to 'Hers'>> <<set $himselfherself to 'herself'>> <<set $capitalhimselfherself to 'Herself'>> <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ <<set $heshe to 'he'>> <<set $capitalheshe to 'He'>> <<set $hisher to 'his'>> <<set $capitalhisher to 'His'>> <<set $himher to 'him'>> <<set $capitalhimher to 'Him'>> <<set $hishers to 'His'>> <<set $capitalhishers to 'His'>> <<set $himselfherself to 'himself'>> <<set $capitalhimselfherself to 'Himself'>> <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ <<set $heshe to 'they'>> <<set $capitalheshe to 'They'>> <<set $hisher to 'their'>> <<set $capitalhisher to 'Their'>> <<set $himher to 'them'>> <<set $capitalhimher to 'Them'>> <<set $hishers to 'theirs'>> <<set $capitalhishers to 'Theirs'>> <<set $himselfherself to 'themself'>> <<set $capitalhimselfherself to 'Themself'>> <</if>>\

<h3><center>❖</center> You watch as Dr. Madorna flicks and shuffles through stacks of papers on her desk. An act that she has been doing for no less than five minutes. She quickly scans the contents of manilla folders and tsks and throws them to the side approximately twenty times. You sit across from her grand mahogany desk, overflowing with papers, and the only noise that has kept you in a lulled state is the ticking of a small clock atop the shelves of knickknacks you’ve become accustomed to for the past two years. You <<cycle '$habit' autoselect>><<option 'create hangnails'>><<option 'sing Fly Me to the Moon'>><<option 'hum Everybody Wants to Rule the World'>><<option 'rub your toes against your shoes'>><<option 'count your teeth with your tongue'>><<option 'pull your ear back and forth'>><</cycle>>, a habit from childhood. One that this place never did manage to get under control – like Dr. Madorna touts that she did. “Aha! There’s this damn thing,” she says, sliding the other folders to the sides and placing one in the middle of the desk. She flips it open, licks the tips of her fingers on her tongue, and moves aside a paper you don’t quite catch, but it looks like a stamp of large red letters. “Patient twenty-seven, * [[Elias ->Page 18][$name to 'Elias']] * [[Atticus ->Page 18][$name to 'Atticus']] * [[Xandros ->Page 18][$name to 'Xandros']] * [[Eleanora ->Page 18][$name to 'Eleanora']] * [[Mirabel ->Page 18][$name to 'Mirabel']] * [[Aurelia ->Page 18][$name to 'Aurelia']] * [[Solaris ->Page 18][$name to 'Solaris']] * [[Indiana ->Page 18][$name to 'Indiana']] * [[Bellamy ->Page 18][$name to 'Bellamy']] *<<textbox '$name' ''>> [[Next->Page 18]] </h3>

<h3> “I-” “Good,” she interrupts and pulls out a stamp from one of her drawers to slam it against the sheet she just read off of. You tilt your head up to see the bold words saying ‘APPROVED’ across the black lettering of your personal medical file. Dr. Madorna closes the folder and extends it out to you. You grab it and lay it on your thighs to look at it momentarily before looking up at the doctor. Dr. Madorna clasps her hands atop the only available space on her desk and stares at you expectedly. Is she expecting you to say something? Do something? You rack your brain around to see if you’re supposed to do one more thing to try and convince them that you’re sane. The doctor inhales and says, “you haven’t been the easiest of patients, and to be honest, there are problems that we have not even begun to scrape the mould off with you.” You blink and roll your lips together. You never could tell if she was so brutally honest because of her profession or because she didn’t like you. <hr>\ * [[“Then why release me? My stay was indefinite,” you ask.->Page 20A]] * [[“I’m sorry to make you lose that Nobel prize,” you snark.->Page 20B]] * [[“Well I wish I could’ve helped you,” you say sincerely.->Page 20C]] * [[You don’t how to answer that so you merely stare.->Page 20D]] </h3>

<h3> “$name Cairo Crown. Age 18, is <<cycle '$sex' autoselect>><<option 'female.'>><<option 'male.'>><</cycle>> and after twenty-four months of successful treatment $heshe is being released back into the care of $hisher parents in... Croun that's located... well how odd it doesn't say. Do you acknowledge that all of this is correct?” It feels odd hearing your name; you have always been addressed by your last name or patient number. Do you even have a nickname you can recall? <hr>\ * [[Yes.->Page 18A]] * [[No.->Page 18B]] </h3>

<h3>After you leave Dr. Madorna, things happen in quick succession. You’re escorted out of the hospital by the orderlies. Since you never really made many friends here on account of being doped up most of the time, there are no tight hugs, tear-streaked faces and comforting words of promises to write awaiting you as you walk down the gravel back towards the taxi waiting by the dirt road. You place your hand on the handle and give a pause. You turn your head back to the building that has been your home for what feels like a lifetime, more real than the one you had before here. And still, you feel nothing. You pull the handle and slide in. The flight back to the region where your town is feels shorter than the flight you took in the other direction two years prior. As you look out your window, the endless fields of wheat are replaced by flat land, highways, cities, and, finally, trees. You had almost forgotten how formidable they were. Tall, strong trees packed together like sardines, allowing few lights to be seen from above. [[NEXT->Page 22]] </h3>

<h3>You see many stars out again as even though the hospital was a bit away from a major city, it was still too polluted to see anything but brown clouds at night. The moon shines on you, your constant companion in the dark of night. You land somewhere in the middle of the country and board another slightly smaller plane. You disembark somewhere a few hours closer to your region and board another smaller plane. The airport you land at is in Winchester, a small city known for its ports, about an hour and a half away from Croun. At this time of night in an airport this small, there weren’t many people on your flight, and there weren’t many walking through the building. As you enter the area marked ‘ARRIVALS,’ you only see a view of people milling about. You search around halfheartedly for the driver and spot him through the glass doors parked against the curve of the street. You push open the door with your shoulder, and before you can call out, Arthur sees you and jogs to meet you halfway. ”Well<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Miss Crown<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Mister Crown<</if>>,what a pleasure to see you. It’s been so long!” he says brightly. [[NEXT->Page 23]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Oh let me get that,” he takes the backpack off your shoulder, “and that,” he takes the handle of your suitcase from your hand. “Oh Miss Crown, I don’t lie when I say your lack of presence was felt by everyone, including me,” he says excitedly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Oh, let me get that,” he takes the backpack off your shoulder, “and that,” he takes the handle of your suitcase from your hand. “Oh, Mister Crown, I don’t lie when I say your lack of presence was felt by everyone, including me,” he says excitedly.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[You give him a small smile, “that’s nice of you Arthur.” ->Page 24A]] * [[You smirk and say, “If you can show me how much you miss me through material means, I think it’ll help me truly feel it.”->Page 24B]] * [[You hand him your carry-on, not bothering nor caring to answer him.->Page 24C]] </h3>

<h3>He shuts the door and swiftly turns on the ignition, the car’s rumbling vibrating through your eyes and up your arms. You look out the scratched window as the car flies by the empty parking lot and then the streetlights through downtown. All of it was a blur of nothing. It’ll take almost two hours from Winchester to Croun, and due to how far you travelled and the constant changing of flights, you estimate you’ll arrive home in the early hours of the morning. Buildings of importance and people walking, socializing, eating, drinking and driving pass through your view in the window. //Nia.// The last time you saw her was the day before you left. A Sunday day. She had been acting strange for weeks. You two had walked out together and parted ways, her going right and you going left. She said, ‘I’ll call you later, Birdie,’ and waved to you as she walked away. You never got a call from her after that at the hospital or a single letter after that. [[NEXT->Page 26]] </h3>

<h3> It makes you feel... <hr>\ * [[Curious. How hard is it to dial a number?->Page 27A]] * [[☄ Angry. What kind of best friend is she?->Page 27B]] * [[☽ Hurt. Did you do something wrong?->Page 27C]] * [[Nothing. If she doesn't care, why should you?->Page 27D]] </h3>

<h3> Curious. How hard is it to dial a number? In middle school, her parents would send her to summer camp, and you would call her every chance you got. Sure, your father was unhappy when he got the phone bill at the end of the month, but you didn’t care. ...and she can’t even call you once. You sigh and push away those thoughts for now. Whirling images from outside converge together in a mass of blackness, blues and artificial yellows as your eyes glaze. Without intending to, your eyes droop, and your head lays gently against the window. [[NEXT->Page 28]] </h3>

<h3>Angry. Maybe? What kind of best friend is she? She was the one who insisted that you two needed to be together always, even go off to college together, and she can’t even make the fucking effort for you. ... so much for that it seems.<<set $Worth += 1>> You sigh and push away those thoughts for now. Whirling images from outside converge together in a mass of blackness, blues and artificial yellows as your eyes glaze. Without intending to, your eyes droop, and your head lays gently against the window. [[NEXT->Page 28]] </h3>

<h3>You think... hurt? Did you do something wrong? You know it’s hard being friends with someone like you. You’re not blind, but you thought if all else fails, she would never be the one to leave you. ... they always do leave. <<set $Worthless += 1>> You sigh and push away those thoughts for now. Whirling images from outside converge together in a mass of blackness, blues and artificial yellows as your eyes glaze. Without intending to, your eyes droop, and your head lays gently against the window. [[NEXT->Page 28]] </h3>

<h3>Nothing. She’s just a girl. If she doesn’t care, why should you? You’ve grown up together, and that should elicit more of a reaction from you, but you can’t muster up the need to care that much for whatever changed with her. ... there’s nothing more to it. You sigh and push away those thoughts for now. Whirling images from outside converge together in a mass of blackness, blues and artificial yellows as your eyes glaze. Without intending to, your eyes droop, and your head lays gently against the window. [[NEXT->Page 28]] </h3>

<h3> //JULY 1992 She’s pacing in her room. She’s been pacing for hours now; you’ve lost count of how many. Her room is across the hall from yours, and given who she is and who you are, it’s perpetually locked for you – the white door giving you the same message as always without words. Even though you don’t go into her room, you can still hear what’s happening there most of the time. And you’ve never heard her pace. She’s been doing it frequently in the last few weeks, late at night. The creaking of the floorboards from her room doesn’t let you sleep. Could you knock? Would she open the door? No. She’d probably just ignore you or tell you to fuck off like she’s prone to. You blink up at the ceiling pierced with the shadows of the branches from the giant oak outside your window. Your chest rises and falls gently. You used to be a heavy sleeper. A sleepwalker at that. Now, the slightest sound can rouse you, and hoping the floor creaks to lull you to sleep is futile. You wish you still had those sleeping pills Dr. Herbert prescribed to you in winter. But Mother took them. You’ve made up your mind to roll over and cover your ears with the pillow when she abruptly stops pacing and opens her door.// //[[NEXT->Page 29]]// </h3>

<h3> <center>❖</center> A loud car door pulls you from sleep, and you lift your head to see the inky darkness outside the windows. The trunk opens, and you imagine is Arthur taking out your suitcase, so you rub your eyes and open your door. The first thing that greets you is the silence. Or better yet, the wind gliding past your ears and weaving through your <<cycle '$hairlength' autoselect>><<option 'ear-length'>><<option 'chin-length'>><<option 'shoulder-length'>><<option 'long'>><</cycle>> <<cycle '$haircolor' autoselect>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'blond'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'red'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'pink'>><<option 'gray'>><<option 'purple'>><<option 'green'>><</cycle>> hair. You’ve forgotten this strange quirk of the town, as you could hear the birds, squirrels and all manner of outdoor life at the hospital. There are animals here, and they have never made noise at night. Here, it’s always been silent. The warm weather touches your face with that ever-present hint of coldness underneath, and it’s always been said that it must be because of the trees. You look up at the treetops that surround you. These things of moss, bark and leaf stretch out their bodies so high that no one can ever climb to the top without some assistance. The leaves are so thick and tightly placed together that they nearly cover the night sky. Hence, the flashlight Arthur clicks on as he comes to your side. [[NEXT->Page 30]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He huffs out a breath of air, “well… welcome home Miss.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He huffs out a breath of air, “well… welcome home Mister.”<</if>> You swivel your head to the manor and survey it up and down to see if there have been any changes in the last twenty-six months. The cement twin staircases adorned with black decaying metal railings still lead to the same platform porch-like front of the house that fronts the chipped double doors with their oxidized gold handles. The door knocker is still that thing, a ghastly green man or monster staring with wide erratic eyes and clenched teeth as if angry at whoever dares to try and enter the house. The windows adorning the three floors have far more dust than they once did, preventing anyone from peeking inside. You remember your father saying he had plans to repaint the house. Still, the peeling colours and splotches of what look like mould on the white and lavender of the exterior walls, the frames of the windows, the box-gabled roofs and even the pilasters tell you this was never gotten around to. As you climb up the stairs with Arthur trailing behind you, you note that the only new and fresh element of the house are the boxed shrubbery under the big windows of the first floor. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You touch the knocker, and Arthur says, “oh, wait just a moment, Miss,” and puts his hand in his right pant pocket to rummage inside it. He tsks and drops your suitcase to search in the other pocket. He mumbles something under his breath and then pats his coat before sticking a hand in and retrieving a small rusted key.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You touch the knocker, and Arthur says, “oh, wait just a moment, Mister,” and puts his hand in his right pant pocket to rummage inside it. He tsks and drops your suitcase to search in the other pocket. He mumbles something under his breath and then pats his coat before sticking a hand in and retrieving a small rusted key.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 31]] </h3>

<h3>“Ah, there you go. Mr. Salvatore told me to give this to you. He knew you’d arrive late, and he always thinks of everything.” he hands you the key, and you stick it into the keyhole under one of the door handles. You twist, pull the handle down and push the heavy door open. The loud creaking is your reintroduction into your home. The candles flicker low on their mounts on the mahogany walls of the entrance. The light is not reaching but a few feet in front of you. Of course, you don’t need any illumination to know this place. You were born here. There are four doors, two on each side of you, leading to the first reading room and the other to the parlour room. The two doors across from you at the other end of the room lead to the kitchen and dining room, respectively, and in between them is the grand staircase to the upper floors and the rooms. All the floors are hardwood painted black, and the walls an eggshell white that always reminds you of jaundice. <hr>\ * [[“Croun Manor,” you say neutrally.->Page 32A]] * [[“This place is really going for a rich people serial killer aesthetic,” you say with a blase tone.->Page 32B]] * [[“Fucking hell.”->Page 32C]] </h3>

<h3>Automatically, mechanically, you walk past your brothers’ rooms to yours. You can hear faint snoring coming from behind Percy’s door. You reach your door at the end of the corridor and without meaning to you glance at the door across from yours. You think of... <hr>\ * [[her.->Page 34A]] * [[fear.->Page 34B]] * [[wonder.->Page 34C]] * [[static.->Page 34D]] </h3>

<h3>You think of her. You haven’t done that much since you’ve been gone. Maybe it was all the drugs or being surrounded by people equally or more insane than you are. Before you left, she used to intrude on your thoughts more than you’d like. You know if you spend too much time thinking, your mind will slip away from your fingers. Tensing those very fingers, you turn away from all that and enter your room. Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it and move the light over the contents of your former room. Not former, you remind yourself. It’s your room. This is your home. It’s nearly fall 1994, and you’re eighteen. Your name is $name Cairo Crown, and as long as you remember these basic facts, you’re fine. Dr. Madorna always said that reality trumps illusion. [[NEXT->Page 35]] </h3>

<h3>You think of fear. It’s not a feeling you usually feel, is it? That implies that you’ve felt it. You’ve forgotten when the last time you felt scared was. Maybe never. But she did have a way of making you feel...uncertain. You know if you spend too much time thinking, your mind will slip away from your fingers. Tensing those very fingers, you turn away from all that and enter your room. Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it and move the light over the contents of your former room. Not former, you remind yourself. It’s your room. This is your home. It’s nearly fall 1994, and you’re eighteen. Your name is $name Cairo Crown, and as long as you remember these basic facts, you’re fine. Dr. Madorna always said that reality trumps illusion. [[NEXT->Page 35]] </h3>

<h3>You think of wonder. You have never been in that room, at least not that you remember. She wouldn’t let you in; she’d let your brothers in, your parents and her friends, but it was an unspoken fact that if you even tried to enter, she would smack you. You know if you spend too much time thinking, your mind will slip away from your fingers. Tensing those very fingers, you turn away from all that and enter your room. Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it and move the light over the contents of your former room. Not former, you remind yourself. It’s your room. This is your home. It’s nearly fall 1994, and you’re eighteen. Your name is $name Cairo Crown, and as long as you remember these basic facts, you’re fine. Dr. Madorna always said that reality trumps illusion. //[[NEXT->Page 35]]// </h3>

<h3>You think of static. Everything feels like it’s changed. Obviously, it has. You were sent away, and such drastic events breed change, but you somehow know that that room is the same as it ever was. You know if you spend too much time thinking, your mind will slip away from your fingers. Tensing those very fingers, you turn away from all that and enter your room. Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it and move the light over the contents of your former room. Not former, you remind yourself. It’s your room. This is your home. It’s nearly fall 1994, and you’re eighteen. Your name is $name Cairo Crown, and as long as you remember these basic facts, you’re fine. Dr. Madorna always said that reality trumps illusion. [[NEXT->Page 35]] </h3>

<h3>You flip on the light switch, and the flickering bulb encased in your ceiling light does a poor job of showing your surroundings, but you can make out the bed, the ancient armoire a few feet across from it, the few choice posters on the blue walls and the strewn books and the cassettes. You come up blank when you try to think of the last thing you did before leaving here for the last time. You look at the things here in this space and don’t feel like they connect to you even though you know you have lived here for fifteen years, and these are all your things; you’ve touched this place. Your room used to be bare and to appease your parents and the myriad of doctors they sent your way you decided to decorate, to make this place look like a teenager lived here. It looks… <hr>\ * [[Like the grunge scene->Page 36A]] * [[Like a John Hughes princess set->Page 36B]] * [[Like a John Hughes prom king set->Page 36C]] * [[Like a parent's worst nightmare a la queen of hell->Page 36D]] * [[Like a parent's worst nightmare a la Lucifer lover->Page 36E]] </h3>

<h3>It looks like the typical teen of the 90s grunge scene with an unmade bed, the albums Ten and Nevermind adorning the walls and a series of flannel and ripped jeans thrown on the floor. But it just doesn’t feel like you, does it? It seems like this little problem didn’t go away. You drag your suitcase over to the bed, unzip it, flip the top up and rummage until your hand lands on the bottle of pills prescribed to you. Mephobarbital. You were told to take these with responsibility. You sit on the bed and shake the bottle until one white pill lands on your plan. You <<cycle '$pill' autoselect>><<option 'swallow it. It does not take away the nightmares but it makes you sleep.'>><<option 'discard it. Sure, it will take longer to fall asleep but you prefer not to drug yourself.'>><</cycle>> After you leave your suitcase in the middle of the room, not thinking it okay to put it under the bed, you slide under the covers of the cold and unused and abandoned bed that feels entirely too different from your hospital bed and try to force yourself into unconsciousness. [[NEXT->Page 37]] </h3>

<h3> It looks like the room of a John Hughes high school prom queen, with pastel pink bed coverings, a poster of Rob Lowe over the bed, dried roses on the nightstand, and a delicate vanity piled with nail polish and colourful eyeshadow. But it just doesn’t feel like you, does it? It seems like this little problem didn’t go away. You drag your suitcase over to the bed, unzip it, flip the top up and rummage until your hand lands on the bottle of pills prescribed to you. Mephobarbital. You were told to take these with responsibility. You sit on the bed and shake the bottle until one white pill lands on your plan. You <<cycle '$pill' autoselect>><<option 'swallow it. It does not take away the nightmares but it makes you sleep.'>><<option 'discard it. Sure, it will take longer to fall asleep but you prefer not to drug yourself.'>><</cycle>> After you leave your suitcase in the middle of the room, not thinking it okay to put it under the bed and slide under the covers of the cold and unused and abandoned bed that feels entirely too different from your hospital bed and try to force yourself into unconsciousness. [[NEXT->Page 37]] </h3>

<h3>It looks like the room of a John Hughes, a high school football lover boy with blue sheets, a famous sweat-soaked pro athlete over the bed, the faint smell of cologne still in the air and a football lying on the desk. But it just doesn’t feel like you, does it? It seems like this little problem didn’t go away. You drag your suitcase over to the bed, unzip it, flip the top up and rummage until your hand lands on the bottle of pills prescribed to you. Mephobarbital. You were told to take these with responsibility. You sit on the bed and shake the bottle until one white pill lands on your plan. You <<cycle '$pill' autoselect>><<option 'swallow it. It does not take away the nightmares but it makes you sleep.'>><<option 'discard it. Sure, it will take longer to fall asleep but you prefer not to drug yourself.'>><</cycle>> After you leave your suitcase in the middle of the room, not thinking it okay to put it under the bed and slide under the covers of the cold and unused and abandoned bed that feels entirely too different from your hospital bed and try to force yourself into unconsciousness. [[NEXT->Page 37]] </h3>

<h3>It looks like the room of a queen of darkness wannabe with the velvet blanket and matching pillows, Elvira herself on the wall, unlabeled vials with mysterious liquids on the desk and Carmilla with a small choker acting as a bookmark. But it just doesn’t feel like you, does it? It seems like this little problem didn’t go away. You drag your suitcase over to the bed, unzip it, flip the top up and rummage until your hand lands on the bottle of pills prescribed to you. Mephobarbital. You were told to take these with responsibility. You sit on the bed and shake the bottle until one white pill lands on your plan. You <<cycle '$pill' autoselect>><<option 'swallow it. It does not take away the nightmares but it makes you sleep.'>><<option 'discard it. Sure, it will take longer to fall asleep but you prefer not to drug yourself.'>><</cycle>> After you leave your suitcase in the middle of the room, not thinking it okay to put it under the bed and slide under the covers of the cold and unused and abandoned bed that feels entirely too different from your hospital bed and try to force yourself into unconsciousness. [[NEXT->Page 37]] </h3>

<h3>It looks like the room of a king of darkness wannabe with black silk sheets and matching pillows, Bela Lugosi himself on the wall, fake blood spilled and dried on the desk, and Dracula with a bookmark of a small dagger in it. But it just doesn’t feel like you, does it? It seems like this little problem didn’t go away. You drag your suitcase over to the bed, unzip it, flip the top up and rummage until your hand lands on the bottle of pills prescribed to you. Mephobarbital. You were told to take these with responsibility. You sit on the bed and shake the bottle until one white pill lands on your plan. You <<cycle '$pill' autoselect>><<option 'swallow it. It does not take away the nightmares but it makes you sleep.'>><<option 'discard it. Sure, it will take longer to fall asleep but you prefer not to drug yourself.'>><</cycle>> After you leave your suitcase in the middle of the room, not thinking it okay to put it under the bed and slide under the covers of the cold and unused and abandoned bed that feels entirely too different from your hospital bed and try to force yourself into unconsciousness. [[NEXT->Page 37]] </h3>

<h3>You don’t know how many hours later it is, but you’re awakened by the muffled sound of voices from the first floor and the patter of feet on the hardwood planks. You roll over and see the leafy branch of your old tree with perfect clarity in the morning grayness. You roll out of bed and walk to the door with the intention of turning the knob when you pause. You slowly turn your head towards your bed again. Your eyes trail down to the darkness, the thin space between the floor and the blanket. You roll your lips and think of… no. You shake your head at that thought. Maybe later. You pull the door open before you change your mind and quickly leave. When you enter the dining room, it’s a scene exactly as you remember it. The gauche floral wallpaper completely contrasts with the rest of the manor, the antique chandelier your great-grandma Greta brought from Paris in the 30s with its multiple broken bulbs. This mahogany grand dining table has seated generations of Crowns... and your brothers talking among bites of eggs the cook freshly made minutes ago. [[NEXT->Page 38]] </h3>

<h3> “That’s __completely__ bullshit. When did he say that?” “Just last night, if you hadn’t arrived late like you always do, you might’ve been able to make your case, but we know you didn’t.” Percy glares at Sally and drops his fork on the plate, “this is all you isn’t it?” Sally merely chews calmly and looks at your brother. Percy’s hand shakes and he balls it into a tight fist. “You motherfucker-” “Language Percival-” “Fuck you and your language! I’m fucking living on scraps thanks to the things you’ve been saying to the old man,” Percy yells. Sally swallows his food and scoops another bit of egg on top of his fork, “it’s not my fault you’ve been careless, I’ve given you as much as I can, but we all have to make sacrifices.” [[NEXT->Page 39]] </h3>

<h3>“I don’t see the great heir of the family making any sacrifices. Pretty sure that’s a new tie, Sally. Didn’t think you liked cashmere,” Percy scoffs. Sally sighs and covers his mouth to talk, “I found this in one of the old boxes in the attic, but that’s not the point. The point is-” His eyes flick to where you are standing at the doorway, and he stops mid-sentence. He swallows quickly and abruptly stands. “$name,” Salvatore says warmly with a kind smile. Percival turns his head toward you, and his expression changes from irritation to quick disinterest. You … <hr>\ * [[Snark, “nothing feels like home-sweet home than you two screeching at each other.”->Page 40A]] * [[Say with a smile, “hello, boys. Long time no see.”->Page 40B]] * [[Quirk an eyebrow, “what's going on?”->Page 40C]] * [[Don't respond, merely staring intently.->Page 40D]] </h3>

<h3>You snark, “nothing feels like home-sweet home than you two screeching at each other.” Sally glances momentarily at Percy and back at you with that same smile on his face. “We were just discussing some ongoing issues that aren’t of importance right now, right Percy?” he emphasizes. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> “Whatever,” he responds with an eye-roll. Sally walks to the other side of the table, pulls a chair, and nods to you. You sit down, and he pushes you in. Without a word, he loads eggs, toast, grapes, and sausages on your plate and pours you a glass of orange juice, all in your Mother’s breakfast china adorned with small, delicate blue and pink flowers. Sally goes back to his seat across from you and resumes eating. You bring a forkful of eggs to your lips and chew mechanically, the overabundance of flavour assaulting your senses. An odd and unwelcome sensation after years of pudding and mashed potatoes. [[NEXT->Page 41]] </h3>

<h3> You say with a smile, “hello, boys. Long time no see.” Sally glances momentarily at Percy and back at you with that same smile on his face. “We were just discussing some ongoing issues that aren’t of importance right now, right Percy?” he emphasizes. “Whatever,” he responds with an eye-roll. Sally walks to the other side of the table, pulls a chair, and nods to you. You sit down, and he pushes you in. Without a word, he loads eggs, toast, grapes, and sausages on your plate and pours you a glass of orange juice, all in your Mother’s breakfast china adorned with small, delicate blue and pink flowers. Sally goes back to his seat across from you and resumes eating. You bring a forkful of eggs to your lips and chew mechanically, the overabundance of flavour assaulting your senses. An odd and unwelcome sensation after years of pudding and mashed potatoes. [[NEXT->Page 41]] </h3>

<h3> You quirk an eyebrow,”what's going on?” Sally glances momentarily at Percy and back at you with that same smile on his face. “We were just discussing some ongoing issues that aren’t of importance right now, right Percy?” he emphasizes. “Whatever,” he responds with an eye-roll. Sally walks to the other side of the table, pulls a chair, and nods to you. You sit down, and he pushes you in. Without a word, he loads eggs, toast, grapes, and sausages on your plate and pours you a glass of orange juice, all in your Mother’s breakfast china adorned with small, delicate blue and pink flowers. Sally goes back to his seat across from you and resumes eating. You bring a forkful of eggs to your lips and chew mechanically, the overabundance of flavour assaulting your senses. An odd and unwelcome sensation after years of pudding and mashed potatoes. [[NEXT->Page 41]] </h3>

<h3> You don't respond, merely staring intently. Sally glances momentarily at Percy and back at you with that same smile on his face. “We were just discussing some ongoing issues that aren’t of importance right now, right Percy?” he emphasizes. “Whatever,” he responds with an eye-roll. Sally walks to the other side of the table, pulls a chair, and nods to you. You sit down, and he pushes you in. Without a word, he loads eggs, toast, grapes, and sausages on your plate and pours you a glass of orange juice, all in your Mother’s breakfast china adorned with small, delicate blue and pink flowers. Sally goes back to his seat across from you and resumes eating. You bring a forkful of eggs to your lips and chew mechanically, the overabundance of flavour assaulting your senses. An odd and unwelcome sensation after years of pudding and mashed potatoes. [[NEXT->Page 41]] </h3>

<h3>For the next few minutes, the only noise in the room is the scraping of silverware against the fine china and the loud chewing of your brother Percy. “So how was your jolly stay at the funny farm?” Percy abruptly asks in between bites of toast. “Percy,” Sally warns. Percy waves him off and continues, “did they give you drugs? I heard they give you ones that, like fuck you up forever.” Your other brother sighs deeply. You look at him over the rim of your orange juice and see the slight curl to the corner of his lips. He only ever does this when there's a deep and prolonged silence, ever since you were children and it took you a while to understand what he meant when he did that. He was looking to rile you up. He had a habit of doing this with everyone and it didn't matter — if you, his <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>sister<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>brother<</if>>— hadn't done anything to elicit it. You gulp down your juice. <hr>\ * [[“It was like any other stay at a hospital Percy. If you’re imagining straitjacketets and lobotomies I’m sorry to disappoint.”->Page 42A]] * [[“Oh yeah I was well high out of my mind. It’s paradise, you should go Percy. I can call them right now if you wish.”->Page 42B]] * [[“I really have nothing interesting to say, brother.”->Page 42C]] * [[“Why don’t you go and fuck yourself, Percy?”->Page 42D]] </h3>

<h3>He lifts seven fingers, “the Durans, the Mirs, the Fitzgeralds, the Foxes, the Wisterias, some other important people, and the Starks.” You quirk an eyebrow, “the Starks? There’s only one left and unless Lorcan Stark came into money recently I don’t understand how he’s of ‘good stock.’’ “Well, his father was a good friend to our father before that terrible tragedy befell their family, and father has tried to keep an eye out for Lorcan since then, especially since you left,” Sally says. “Father prefers to take care of the strays than his own flesh and blood,” Percy mumbles. A party. A homecoming. You hadn’t expected this. All you had hoped for and wanted was a quiet welcome and not a coming out to social season event. If anyone would have deserved a celebration like this and would’ve enjoyed it, it would’ve been //her//. “$name?” [[NEXT->Page 44]] </h3>

<h3>Your thoughts are interrupted by Sally, who looks very worried for you. You try to speak, but it feels as if your tongue is as heavy as a dead, cold fish. Saliva disappears down your throat. Sally notices and hastens to comment, “I wish we didn't have to. Father isn’t even going to be there and Mother-” he cuts himself off, “it’s just a necessity.” <hr>\ * [[“No, really. It’s ok. It’s better for people to know I’m back now instead of randomly showing up at school next week,” you reassure him.->Page 45A]] * [[“You know what? It's fineeee gotta get these old joke muscles pumping again. Practice makes perfect and all that.”->Page 45B]] * [[“Necessity my ass. No. Screw this! I wasn't even told this was gonna happen and I just got back the last thing I want is to play court jester for those assholes.”->Page 45C]] * [[Your eyebrows knit together and you simply stare confused at your brother.->Page 45D]] </h3>

<h3> “It was like any other stay at a hospital, Percy. If you’re imagining straitjackets and lobotomies, I’m sorry to disappoint,” you sigh. Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast. <<if $nickname>>“Shucks, I expected a funnier story. Well, maybe you can give me weeks of entertainment by the gossip you’ll spread tomorrow night, $nickname.”<<elseif not $nickname>>“Shucks, I expected a funnier story. While maybe you can provide me with weeks of entertainment by the gossip you’ll spread tomorrow night $name.”<</if>> “Tomorrow night?” your eyes find Sally’s. Meanwhile he seems as if he wants to say something to Percy but opts to look at you with a slightly nervous smile, “ah yes I was just about to mention this to you, I decided-” “-father decided,” Percy interrupts. “- that it would good to reintroduce you back into the families of good stock in the town and so a little-” he must see the slight worry in your eyes and quickly says, “a tiny, tiny get-together has been organized tomorrow night here.” You stare at Sally. “And who exactly is coming?” [[NEXT->Page 43]] </h3>

<h3>“Oh yeah, I was well high out of my mind. It’s paradise, you should go, Percy. I can call them right now to give the special electric dance,” you smile sweetly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast. “I’ll leave the insanity to you, sister. Maybe you can be high enough to function tomorrow night.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast. “I’ll leave the insanity to you, brother. Maybe you can be high enough to function tomorrow night.”<</if>> “Tomorrow night?” your eyes flit to Sally. Meanwhile he seems as if he wants to say something to Percy but opts to look at you with a slightly nervous smile, “ah yes I was just about to mention this to you, I decided-” “- father decided,” Percy interrupts. “- that it would good to reintroduce you back into the families of good stock in the town and so a little-” he must see the slight panic in your eyes and quickly says, “a tiny, tiny get-together has been organized tomorrow night here.” You stare Sally down. “And who might be coming to my so-called ‘party’?” [[NEXT->Page 43]] </h3>

<h3>“I really have nothing interesting to say, brother,“ you say flatly. Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast, <<if $nickname>>“still the same witty humour I see, $nickname. Try to sharpen that skill for tomorrow night.”<<elseif not $nickname>>“still the same witty humour I see, $nickname. Try to sharpen that skill for tomorrow night.”<</if>>. “Tomorrow night?” your eyes glide to Sally. Meanwhile he seems as if he wants to say something to Percy but opts to look at you a slightly nervous smile, “ah yes I was just about to mention this to you, I decided-” “- father decided,” Percy interrupts. “- that it would good to reintroduce you back into the families of good stock in the town and so a little,” he must see the slight anger in your eyes and quickly says, “a tiny, tiny get-together has been organized tomorrow night here.” You blink at Sally. “Could someone tell me who's invited?” [[NEXT->Page 43]] </h3>

<h3>“Why don’t you go and fuck yourself, Percy?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast. “Language sister, we are amongst beloved family. Hopefully, you're not as uncouth tomorrow night.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy pouts and takes a big bite from his toast. “Language brother, we are amongst beloved family. Hopefully, you're not as uncouth tomorrow night.”<</if>> “Tomorrow night?” you glance at Sally. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> Meanwhile he seems as if he wants to say something to Percy but opts to look at you a slightly nervous smile, “ah yes I was just about to mention this to you, I decided-” “-father decided,” Percy interrupts. “- that it would good to reintroduce you back into the families of good stock in the town and so a little,” he must see the slight anger in your eyes and quickly says, “a tiny, tiny get-together has been organized tomorrow night here.” You glare at Sally. “...and who the hell is going to be here?” [[NEXT->Page 43]] </h3>

<h3>You smooth down the fabric and evaluate how the clothes lay on your frame. You were never much of a fashionista — that was more your sister — so Mother wasted no time buying anything or customizing any original piece for you. Your everyday clothes are rather simplistic and pedestrian for someone of your name and economic position. You aren’t a complete heathen; however, you have one or two respectable choices for this occasion and for your type of comfort. You've have decided to wear… <hr>\ * [[A black mid-length long sleeve mesh collared dress with matching belt and glossy leather trimmings accessorized with leather gloves->Page 48]] * [[A three piece black suit with a navy bow tie accompanied with black alligator Italian shoes->Page 48]] * [[A velvet black outfit tied with a red leather belt and sequin accents on the sleeves and hem->Page 48]] </h3>

<h3>You adjust the belt slightly, move the garment a bit to the left and run a quick inspection for any frays or stains. You feel the scar on your <<cycle '$scar' autoselect>><<option 'chest'>><<option 'stomach'>><<option 'hand'>><<option 'neck'>><</cycle>>. It’s noticeable; you hardly ever remember it’s there, but it’s best not to give people more reason to gawk and stare than they already will, so you do your best to conceal it. You gently trace your finger along the jagged edges of the raised skin. The marring is so destructive the area sometimes feels numb. Of course, you could be entirely exaggerating your importance. People quickly lost interest in you in the era when you did live here. A knock on your door, and the muffled voice of a maid informs you that the guests have begun to arrive and you’re expected in the parlour. Deciding you’re sufficiently presentable enough not to give the //‘good’// stock something else to comment on apart from your extended absence, you head for the party. The converging and intercepting voices reach your ears before you even enter the room. You pause by the double door frame and strain your ear to hear what they might be saying; you’re not a gossip; other people’s lives do not interest you, but if you’ve learned anything about social class and their events, is that it’s best to have a feel for the atmosphere before attempting to enter it. [[NEXT->Page 49]] </h3>

<h3>Did someone teach you this? No? No, right? No one taught you this. You saw someone doing this once. Sally? Mother? Did you? Was that real? Maybe it’s from a movie. You shake your head before you waste the rest of the night trying to sort through the maze of memories from 1992 and before. “-I’m telling you, it’ll be noticeable for anyone, even if you don’t know wigs.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“She doesn’t have a wig on, for goodness sake.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“He doesn't have a wig on, for goodness sake.”<</if>> “Uh, everyone knows that when you go crazy, you pull out all your hair and like scratch your face off.” <<audio "gothic" loop play>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I beg you not to gawk if that is the case. We’re guests here. If she is as insane as you claim, then maybe it’s best if you don’t give her reason to attack you, Margaret,” a smooth, crisp voice says a few feet away from you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I beg you not to gawk if that is the case, we’re guests here. If he is as insane as you claim, then maybe it’s best if you don’t give him reason to attack you, Margaret,” a smooth, crisp voice says a few feet away from you.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 50]] </h3>

<h3> It’s a man’s voice, well, a boy’s voice. Of course, he’d be here; Sally did say he had invited the Durans. You strain your hearing further and try to distinguish other voices amid the general chorus mumbling. “You should have called beforehand. Appearing at this event without having spoken a word of welcome to $name is frankly disrespectful.” “I know.” “Do you know how important it is that our relations to the Crowns remain as intact as ever?” “I do.” “If things don’t go well for me, they don’t go well for your plans next year.” “Yes, father I do know,” an irritated deep feminine voice answers curtly. It’s her. You hadn’t even thought she would care to come. [[NEXT->Page 51]] </h3>

<h3>“My father has been rather busy outside of town dealing with the ban; he did ask me to tell you he’s sorry he missed your retirement party, Mr. Wisteria. He does want to speak to you about your decision to vote against-” your brother’s gentle but firm voice climbs over all the others in the room. You sigh and exhale. Slipping away from the safety of the wall, you stand firmly at the entrance to the parlour for your grand debut. <hr>\ * [[You cough gently at first and then loudly.->Page 52A]] * [[“The star of the night is finally here. Hold the applause.”->Page 52B]] * [[“Hello, goodnight?”->Page 52C]] * [[You don't know what to do.->Page 52D]] </h3>

<h3>He looks directly into your eyes and nothing in his expression changes. Not a quirk of the lip, a twitch of the eye, even a wrinkle of the nose. It would almost seem as if you bore him if it wasn’t for the intensity with which he looks at you. He doesn’t blink as if not wanting to miss anything. Imre Duran. You’ve known him all your life. He has always been so beloved, one of the town’s most prized possessions. Someone so popular never hung out with you, but unlike the other kids, he never said a single mean word against you; better yet, he always tried to be rather friendly. Of course, he’s like that with everyone. You two haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since you met in kindergarten. He’s also one of the only people you’ve ever met that didn’t seem to like your sister. Since you were not close to either of them, you don’t know why. He doesn’t give you a smile now, however. He’s wearing a three-piece dark navy suit expertly tailored to his athletic body; a burgundy bowtie hangs from his neck, and the chain of a pocketwatch gleams in the fire-dominated illumination of the room. His purposefully unkempt curls frame a strong set bone structure that suits more an actor than a small-town boy with aspirations of... well, you don’t what but definitely not aspirations of the actoral kind. He doesn’t dare move his eyes to any other part of you, just solely your eyes and just as quickly looks away. [[NEXT->Page 54]] </h3>

<h3>She looks at you briefly and averts her gaze down to her long painted nails, the colour matching her red lips. Even so, she’s aware of you. You can see it in the movement of her neck, the chords straining there to break free, to bring forth your name from the depths of her stomach. Nia Mir. If there was anyone in this town, in this world, who you could’ve called an important person to you, it would’ve been her. You remember how she came up to you that first day as something about you intrigued her. Captivated her. From that moment on, you two were never parted and damned anyone who spoke a word against you behind your back that she heard. Your knight in shining armour, with better style. Most people expected her and Orla to be best of friends, but Nia said she found your sister cruel, stupid and as shallow as a puddle. She moves her hand, and her elegant nails are a poor excuse not to look at you. As per her custom, she is the best-dressed person in the vicinity. A skin-tight long emerald dress, a knitted cutout by her mid-riff and above that, the dress reknits itself to cover her breasts with two thick straps protruding from the middle in a v-shape and disappearing over her shoulders. Her long, coiled hair frames her soft, symmetrical face, which is more fantasy than reality. She won’t look at you. You know this; she’s stubborn, and if you aren’t mistaken, you think you see a rebellious pout on her lips. [[NEXT->Page 54]] </h3>

<h3>While you hadn’t seen him, you can guess he noticed you by his unwavering and narrowed gaze. His head is turned down, and his eyes bore into yours but not in a way that evokes a positive intent. Instead, as those eyes trail up and down your body, you get the impression he’s trying to see if he can pierce your flesh telepathically. Lorcan Stark. Like all the kids from this town, you’ve known him since you could remember, but unlike all the others, he seems to actively despise you. As you recall, it wasn’t always like this in the early years of middle school. While he didn’t go out of his way to be friendly, he also didn’t seem to want to provoke your death every time he saw you. You don’t know when it all changed, he never said, but no matter how little you two interact, his anger doesn’t fade. You know exactly how he felt for your sister, and so did everyone else, even though it made no sense. His examination is akin to a morgue doctor, analytically inspecting his patient. The dark gray suit he’s wearing is a size too big for his thin frame, the trousers are held tightly by a belt, the coat hangs on him rather than lays, his white shirt bunches up at the bottom, and his simple black tie hangs down his body because he couldn’t be bothered to correctly tie it. His wavy and haphazard blond hair curls around the edges of his neck, as fragile as the bones constructing his face; it’s more suited to a Caravaggio angel than this boy. He seems to have finished his inspection, but his gaze just seems to carve more into you as if he’s expecting you to start bleeding. [[NEXT->Page 54]] </h3>

<h3> “$name!“ Your brother excuses himself and joins you by the entrance. Before you can ask him not to, he claps his hands loudly, and everyone stops to stare at your brother. Uncomfortably, almost in unison, their eyes glide to you. Their gaze attacks every inch of you, and you feel as if you were the lion at the zoo. They don’t want to get too close, but they can’t stop looking. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“My family and I would personally like to thank you all for attending my sister’s little welcome home get-together. Please be cordial and feel free to come up and welcome home $name,” Sally says with that warm firewood voice he employs for public speaking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“My family and I would personally like to thank you all for attending my brother’s little welcome home get-together. Please be cordial and feel free to come up and welcome home $name,” Sally says with that warm firewood voice he employs for public speaking.<</if>> There’s a momentary lull, and everyone returns to their conversations. Your brother is slightly annoyed but swiftly smiles and looks at you. “If Mohamed won’t go to the mountain…” he briskly takes your arm and guides you around the many groups throughout the room. [[NEXT->Page 55]] </h3>

<h3>This is something you remember your father and Mother doing throughout your childhood. In these boring parties where you and your siblings were made to sit on the couch, all preened, plucked and pristine in your sailor shorts and dresses. At the same time, your father guided your immaculate Mother around the room, holding her like a Greek statue of old in her flowy gown, too scared to pull her quickly as if she would break but too cautious to let her go for she might fly away. Your brother takes you to a tall, mustached man in a brown suit and a woman with a matching dress and pearl earrings, both with a brandy in their hands. From random memories of scenes from weekend dinners, you recognize the man as O’Connor Fox and the woman as his wife, Francisca. “Sal ol’ boy, I’ve been tryin’ to speak to ya all night,” O’Connor says, patting your brother on the arm. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, O’Connor. There’s only so many guests and one host, well, two now,” Sally says with a patient smile. You always wondered how he could smile so much. [[NEXT->Page 56]] </h3>

<h3>O’Connor turns towards you, somehow entirely oblivious to the fact that you’re here as well. He grins widely and moves to put an arm around your shoulders as if you were the best of chums, “why look at ya $name! All grown up! Look at $himher Franny!” The aforementioned ‘Franny’ smiles pleasantly — rather lazily as you pay closer attention and lifts up her cup. “Th littlewst Crowm, I ‘eard sauuurrr muuuucccchhh aboot yewwwwww, purdy purdy kid,” she slurs and slightly hiccups. You and your brother look at each other, and his smile looks pitying. He shakes his head. O’Connor squeezes you against him and wafts his acrid breath into your face, “unfortunate ya missed the weddin’ kiddo we could’a used ya’ Franny here was in dire need of a bridesmaid on accoun’ of the gurls not wantin’ to be at the weddin.’” For a moment, you think about what it would feel to slice off that arm he has around you, but you quickly push that thought away. Ah, yes, you had heard of that from the few letters Sally had sent you. Mr. Fox’s wedding with Francisca had proved controversial on the account that she was barely older than his daughters, and the fact that they were found in bed together by his wife didn’t make Francisca’s transition into the upper echelons of Croun’s creme de la creme easy. Last you heard the former Mrs. Fox was taking him to court for all he had. <hr>\ * [[“Sorry I missed it Mr. Fox. I’ll catch the next one,” you blurt out. ->Page 57A][$blurt to true]] * [[“I make a habit not support child marriages anyway,” you retort.->Page 57B][$blurt to true]] * [[“I do apologize. I'd rather not pick sides in your family conflict,” you reply, not unkindly.->Page 57C][$blurt to true]] * [[You make a non-committal noise in the back of your throat and look towards anywhere else.->Page 57D]] </h3>

<h3> Sally almost coughs out his drink and you roll your lips. Shit. O’Connor glances down at you for a few seconds and then laughs wholeheartedly. “You sure will, kiddo,” he takes a swing of his drink. Francisca had been kind of slowly swaying in a circle but as he says this she takes a step forward to balance herself out and glare at her husband, “wat the faq iz that ‘uppost ta meen yew asshole?!” A few people around you turn to look at the commotion. Mr. Fox huffs and scrunches his nose, “calm down, will ya? I was joking,” he thankfully slides his arm off your shoulders, and you move closer to your brother, who is wiping his chin. Francisca stumbles slightly and points at him with a long french-tipped nail. Well… she points in his general vicinity, which makes it look like she’s pointing at you. “Yaur are alwayz makkin’ deez stoopid jokes! Ya wanna be dealin’ wit two divorces insteed of juan!?” she yells. Your eyes go wide as saucers. [[NEXT->Page 58]] </h3>

<h3>O’Connor’s pleasant air dissipates, and he takes a hefty swing of his drink, emptying it completely. He hands it to your brother, “ya mind?” he asks. Sally shakes his head and takes it. O’Connor goes to his wife’s side, whispers furiously in her ear, grabs her slender arm and drags her to the edge of the room by the fireplace. <<if $blurt>>\ You open your mouth slightly in confusion. “I swear I didn’t mean to say that, nor did I mean to start anything,” you say, hand rubbing against your chest. Sally tsks and shakes his head, “it’s not your fault $name, those two find an excuse to fight at every public event there is. Fortunately, I never have to hear whatever new business proposition he wants to make with us.” <<else>>\ You open your mouth slightly in confusion. “Should I have said something?” Sally shakes his head, “no. It wouldn’t have prevented the fight. Those two find an excuse to fight at every public event there is. Fortunately, I never have to hear whatever new business proposition he wants to make with us.” <</if>>\ A maid comes by with a tray, and Sally sets O’Connor’s glass down and picks up two flutes of champagne. “You want one?” You... <hr>\ * [[Take it and lightly sip.->Page 59]] * [[Take it and stare at it's yellowish tint.->Page 59]] * [[Wave him off. You don't want to drink tonight.->Page 59]] * [[Hold up a hand. You never drink.->Page 59]] </h3>

<h3>“We have to go to everyone, don’t we?” you ask with a sigh. Sally smiles regretfully and offers you his arm, “Mother and Father aren’t here to help.” The next hour is a series of introductory small talk, awkward staring and questions you don’t understand and have no answer to. “I heard from my aunt’s best friend’s cousin’s neighbour that his brother was at one of those hospitals. Is it true they do a cavity search?” “My name is Anna. That’s spelt A-N-N-A. I’m a friend of your parents. Do you remember me? Do you need me to speak slooowwweeeerrr?” “If you have any leftover pills, I know someone who’d be interested in giving you a good price for them. We could do some good business together, kid.” “It’s not that I’m scared of you. It’s just that it’s healthy to set boundaries when one feels unsafe.” [[NEXT->Page 60]] </h3>

<h3>You manage to dodge in-depth conversations pertaining to your mental stability and recent activities while Salvatore saves you from trying to answer questions about the family business. It all becomes a blur of firelight, perfumes, acidity of alcoholic breaths, light piano music, fake smiles, subtle whispering, cleared throats, faux coughs, and if not outright invasive insensitive questions, then a complete forgetfulness about you, repeating variations of “I’m sorry I forgot your name.” It glides over you like a wave, and you move unknowingly and mechanically throughout this pageantry until you don’t remember nor know how. Still, you end up sitting down on a velvet fainting chair, the heat of the fireplace caressing your face like a lover trying to soothe you. You feel someone else’s body heat as the couch cushion dips, and you groan at the pain in the soles of your feet. “I didn’t know my presence would be so disliked,” a voice says. You glance to your right and meet dark cobalt blue eyes enhanced by the burning flames causing flickering little dances across his cheekbones. You lean down to try and massage your foot the best you can in your shoes as you wait for him to speak. [[NEXT->Page 61]] </h3>

<h3>He grins and looks down at your feet. “Rough night? I’ve seen you go around this room non-stop.” “I’ve been trying to play host, but I don’t know if I’m any good at it,” you say as you continue to console your aching feet. Imre chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. “If you care for my opinion, I’d say you did a superb job, given the nature of the questions hurled at you.” You straighten your back and look impassively at your guest. “Why are you here? Do you have any questions of your own you’d like to hurl at me?” He rolls his tongue against his cheek and looks at the other guests, away from you. He leans towards you, and since this couch isn’t that big, you find his arm nearly brushing yours. “Would you believe me if I told you I wanted to speak to you? No questions nor pretense?” he says, keeping his eyes trained on Mr. Fox and Mrs. Fox the second, petting each other’s faces. <<if $name is 'Indiana'>>\ “Indiana. What a lovely name,” he says abruptly. “What?" “I have a great love for fictional archaeologist of the same name,” he explains. <</if>>\ \ [[NEXT->Page 62]] </h3>

<h3>You take this chance to examine him more closely. He’s changed slightly since the last time you saw him. Back then, he retained a bit of baby fat around the edges of his jaw, and his hair was shorter. By the way, the fabric around his shoulders and knees strain against their confinements; it can be said that he’s filled out more. His eyes flicker to you, and you say... <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I do believe you. And thank you.”->Page 63A]] * [[♡ “No I don't. And your smiles don't work on me.”->Page 63B]] * [[⟡ “Thank you for coming.”->Page 63C]] * [[“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?”->Page 63D]] * [[Nothing. You don't answer him.->Page 63E]] </h3>

<h3>His smile slips momentarily before returning harder, almost mischievous, something entirely more honest than what he was trying to give you. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Then I’ll try harder next time, pelada,“ he says courteously. He breaks your gaze abruptly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Then I’ll try harder next time, pelado,” he says courteously. He breaks your gaze abruptly.<</if>> Imre tips his glass back to reach the final bit of champagne. He does so and sets the glass on the coffee table. He looks at you again, and you feel he’s trying to see something. He looks from your eyes, nose, mouth and back up again in a rather analytical sense. It’s only a moment before he stands up, turns to you and folds his arms across his chest.<<set $ImreRA += 1>> “It was nice to see you, $name, truly after all this time. I hope we can actually become friends,” he says jovially. “By the way, my father sends his regards. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.” You nod at him, and that’s all the answer he needs before nodding and swiftly leaving you alone. [[NEXT->Page 64]] </h3>

<h3>Imre smiles at that, wide enough to show the shadows of dimples on his cheeks so soft. If he wasn’t this close to you, you wouldn’t be able to see them. “It was my pleasure,“ he says gently. He holds your gaze for a moment and looks away. Imre tips his glass back to reach the final bit of champagne. He does so and sets the glass on the coffee table. He looks at you again, and you feel he’s trying to see something. He looks from your eyes, nose, mouth and back up again in a rather analytical sense. It’s only a moment before he stands up, turns to you and folds his arms across his chest. <<set $ImreRF += 1>> “It was nice to see you, $name, truly, after all this time. I hope we can actually become friends,” he says jovially. “By the way, my father sends his regards. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.” You give him an encouraging smile, and that’s all the answer he needs before nodding and swiftly leaving you alone. [[NEXT->Page 64]] </h3>

<h3>His smile in response remains almost the same except for a near-invisible softness to his eyes. It nearly makes him seem sincere, a word you’ve never thought to think of him as. Maybe he thinks he doesn’t need to charm you as hard as others? “It was no bother,” he says placidly. He calmly looks away. Imre tips his glass back to reach the final bit of champagne. He does so and sets the glass on the coffee table. He looks at you again, and you feel he’s trying to see something. He looks somewhat analytically from your eyes, nose, mouth, and back up. It’s only a moment before he stands up, turns to you and folds his arms across his chest. <<set $ImreP += 1>> “It was nice to see you, $name, truly after all this time. I hope we can actually become friends,” he says jovially. “By the way, my father sends his regards. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.” You nod at him, and that’s all the answer he needs before nodding and swiftly leaving you alone. [[NEXT->Page 64]] </h3>

<h3>He blinks slowly at what you said, it makes you uncomfortable. A dash of anger is momentarily there in his eyes before he shapes his features into an unbothered expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,“ he says dispassionately. Unbothered, his stare leaves you. Imre tips his glass back to reach the final bit of champagne. He does so and sets the glass on the coffee table. He looks at you again, and you feel he’s trying to see something. He looks somewhat analytically from your eyes, nose, mouth, and back up. It’s only a moment before he stands up, turns to you and folds his arms across his chest. “It was nice to see you, $name, truly after all this time. I hope we can actually become friends,” he says jovially. “By the way, my father sends his regards. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.” The cold look in your eyes is all the answer he needs before nodding and swiftly leaving you alone. [[NEXT->Page 64]] </h3>

<h3>You watch as he goes over to Nia, leaning against the wall, swirling her drink in her hand idly. Her red, ruby lips glistened like fresh blood spilled on the altar of a god. You momentarily catch her eyes, and she quickly looks away. Once Imre gets to her, she immediately begins speaking in low murmurs, and for some reason, you feel as if she’s watching you from her periphery, but she doesn’t dare to actually look. Your feet have stopped aching, and as you see your brother engaging in what seems like a boring conversation about lumber, you decide to disappear from his sight before he drags you back into hosting duties. With guests who pay you no mind blocking your brother’s view, you escape the room successfully and speed-walk out the front door without much thought to where you’re going. The stark contrast between the lively noise of human activity inside your house and the deathless silence of the outside with its encroaching woods is jarring. Why did you come out here? You hadn’t even thought where you wanted your legs to take you. Do you go back inside? //This is after all your party//. Although, from the lack of warm reception to yourself and that all Sally’s been talking about is business, you’re guessing it isn’t much of your party. [[NEXT->Page 65]] </h3>

<h3>He waits for your response, but you just sit there, blinking. His eyes register confusion, and he seems at a loss for what to say. “Alright then,“ he simply states. He casually and, probably with great relief, breaks off eye contact with you. Imre tips his glass back to reach the final bit of champagne. He does so and sets the glass on the coffee table. He looks at you again, and you feel he’s trying to see something. He looks somewhat analytically from your eyes, nose, mouth, and back up. It’s only a moment before he stands up, turns to you and folds his arms across his chest. “It was nice to see you, $name, truly after all this time. I hope we can actually become friends,” he says jovially. “By the way, my father sends his regards. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.” You blink at him, and that’s all the answer he needs before nodding and swiftly leaving you alone. [[NEXT->Page 64]] </h3>

<h3> What to do?<<audio "gothic" stop>> <hr>\ * <<linkreplace "Go upstairs to your room" t8n>> You could go there but.. //it’s// underneath. Waiting for you to break and want to see it. Additionally, your brother could easily find you there. <</linkreplace>> * <<linkreplace "Go back to the parlor" t8n>> With all those people and their barely restrained disgust mixed with morbid curiosity? You’d rather walk on hot coals.<</linkreplace>> *<<linkreplace "Go to the kitchen" t8n>>You would find quiet as the help doesn’t speak to you, but it would also be awkward; they would tell your brother where you were, and you would get in their way.<</linkreplace>> * <<linkreplace "Go to the bathroom" t8n>> The downstairs bathroom is unusable, and you heard your brother offer the guests the upstairs. For a big house, you lack sufficient.<</linkreplace>> You $habit. Crap. You have nowhere to go. You’ll just have to stand on the porch like an idiot for the rest of the night. [[NEXT->Page 66]] </h3>

<h3>“You’ll look like an idiot no matter what you do,” a gravelly voice stomps with heavy boots into your thoughts. The light catches his golden locks from the shadows as smoke curls around his fingers. You feel your body go taut, bones scraping against the line barrier of your epidermis. You always hate these reactions as your body feels something your brain can’t compute. “Lorcan,” you say. His hooded eyes blink rapidly as if trying to push away the porch lights from shining on them. He lets his arm with the cigarette drop to his side and just… stares. There’s no anger there. Nor an interest. Nothing. He looks like he’s waiting for you, and you don’t know if it’s to move or speak. “Where is it?” <hr>\ * [[You blink. “What?”->Page 67A]] * [[“Oh god, what are you doing there lurking in the shadows like Ted Bundy,” you snort.->Page 67B]] * [[“Do you start all conversations this rudely?”->Page 67C]] * [[“I'd rather you didn't start, it's been a long night.”->Page 67D]] </h3>

<h3> You ask as you take a step down the stairs. No birds. No creatures in the night to speak of. No wind comes here, only at the very top of the trees during winter, and without it, it always feels like hundreds of tiny eyes are looking down at you. There’s nothing, not even the movement of either of you two. It feels like death. He doesn’t blink. Somehow, he’s pushed the light away from his eyes. “It wasn’t with her body when they found her.” You exhale and take three steps down. You’re almost at eye level. Your blood sloshes between the crevices of your bones. <hr>\ * [[“So? I didn't find her. I didn't touch her.”->Page 68A]] * [[“And why would I tell you anything?”->Page 68B]] * [[“I'd rather deal with O'Connor than you.”->Page 68C]] * [[“I'm not my sister's keeper.”->Page 68D]] </h3>

<h3>“So? I didn’t find her. I didn’t touch her. Either the morgue was incompetent, or whatever you’re looking for, she wasn’t wearing that night when she left the house,” you say monotonously. You reach the dirt, and he doesn’t seem intimidating from your spot. Lorcan quickly takes a drag from his cigarette and throws it away from the manor. At least he’s respectful in that. He clicks his tongue and turns around. “This place has ears. Come,” he waves you forward. You look through the window of the parlour, and for lack of a better prospect and the need for relief from more small talk, you begin to follow. It would be an incredibly stupid choice if you weren’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s not like you think he couldn’t. He has no love for you. It’s more so that he doesn’t feel the need to. Well, he never has before. You two head away from the house towards a series of brush that overlooks a small mound of cliff that leads to a trail to a pond on the property. As Lorcan walks with you behind, you hear Mother’s voice saying to you as she did in your childhood //‘never leave the manor at dark alone, you’ll lose your way, and I’ll never be able to find my sylph again.’// You decide that if Lorcan heads for the woods, you’ll turn back, but he stops by the mini-cliff, staring you down as you meet him there. [[NEXT->Page 69]] </h3>

<h3> “Orla’s locket, where is it?” Lorcan says. Ah. That’s it then. <hr>\ * [[You decide to answer him.->Page 70A]] * [[You want to annoy him.->Page 70B]] * [[You want to fix the rift between you.->Page 70C]] * [[You'll ignite your animosity.->Page 70D]] </h3>

<h3>You fold your arms across your chest, inhale and exhale deeply. You shake your head and shrug, “I don’t know. If it wasn’t on her, then I can’t imagine where it is. Have you tried checking her room?” He rolls his eyes, “obviously. That’s the first place I fucking looked it wasn’t there.” You scoff, “then why do you think I know where it is? She wouldn’t let me in her room, remember?” “That was before she-” he stops. He winces as if something sharp has poked him. “-before she died,” you finish. He rolls his lips and nods. “Yeah, before all that stuff. I didn’t think you would still follow her rules after.” You look at nothing but the darkness of the bushes and the trunks. The moonlight does not reach here, but years of living here have made the residents adjust their eyes. Even gone for two years, that ability hasn’t left you. They say that only blood born here can nearly gain the gift of the predators of the night. <hr>\ *[[“There was nothing for me there in life, there wouldn’t be anything there for me in death,” you answer.->Page 70AA]] *[[“I can't help you, Lorcan.” ->Page 70AAA]] *[[You look up at the rustling of trees.->Page 70AAAA]] </h3>

<h3>You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him angry, mainly at you, but never deranged in desperation. As if he could go on a rampage. As if she didn’t die two years ago but just last week. The wound of her death within him gushing and spurting everywhere, coating you in its stain. You can’t even begin to question how you’ve never felt like this for her because that’s when he starts breathing shallowly, hitches interrupting its flow. <hr>\ * [[Oh no.->Page 72A]] * [[Well, this sucks.->Page 72B]] * [[You feel... fine.->Page 72C]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan’s body shakes frantically, and he seems to pull his hair to rip it out. Shit. Shit. Shit. You take another step back. You don’t want to be a lost sylph. Could you make it back home? You’ve never been much of a runner, but you heard that an adrenaline rush can make anyone do anything in dangerous situations. “Fuckkkk. I have nothing,” Lorcan cries quietly. You take another step back and another. He’s too distracted. You could make it back. You just need to get far enough away— Lorcan snaps his head in your direction. He lets go of his hair, drops his arms, and his mouth shifts into a hard line. The wildness that had invaded his eyes goes out as quickly as a light and is replaced by nothing, like the glassy eyes of a dead fish. “What are you doing?” he says. You grow rigid even as your heart remains calm. You open your mouth to answer, “I would like to ask you that, Stark,” but Imre says it instead. “That’s the same question I’d like to know about you, Lorcan,“ he says calmly as if conversing politely with a non-deranged person. [[NEXT->Page 73]] </h3>

<h3>You turn your head back to see the silhouettes of two people standing a few feet behind you. “And here comes the boy saviour, always looking for a damsel in distress to show off to. Look, all I’m doing is hanging out with Crown,” Lorcan says nonchalantly, all the traces of his outburst gone. Imre chuckles differently from when he talked to you earlier. “Last I recalled, you two weren’t such good friends. Actually, you were the complete opposite of that. You and the dearly departed Orla,” he says with a light tone. “Shut your mouth, you pompous dick and get your head outta other people’s asses,” Lorcan says, annoyed. Imre laughs delightedly and walks forward, only stopping when he’s beside you. He winks at you amicably before turning his attention back to Lorcan. “I’m merely wondering what business you could have with our friend here, especially in this setting,” he motions to the area around you. You glance behind you at the lone silhouette still standing there. You know it’s Nia. Why doesn’t she come? [[NEXT->Page 74]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Why do you give a shit? Last I heard, you weren’t friends with her,” he points at you, “either. Now could you fuck off, or is this your charitable deed for the day Duran?” he snarks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Why do you give a shit? Last I heard you weren’t friends with him” he points at you “either. Now could you fuck off or is this your charitable deed for the day Duran?” he snarks.<</if>> “Talking to you? Yes, I do think that’s the best form of charity I can do,” Imre says very nicely. A flash of something passes through Lorcan’s eyes as Imre moves closer to stand near touching distance. A ringing begins in your ears. You huff and… <hr>\ * [[Groan, “the amount of testosterone is reaching hazardous levels, boys.”->Page 75A]] * [[Sigh, “if you’re going to beat the shit out of each other can it be near your own homes?”->Page 75B]] * [[Calmly say, “let’s all just take a deep breath and go back inside.” ->Page 75C]] * [[Do nothing. You really could care less about whatever is going on here. ->Page 75D]] </h3>

<h3>“$name if you want. I can kick the cat out,” Imre says. “And I’ll claw your eyes out,” Lorcan rebuts. “Boys are so stupid, “ you sigh. Your eyes ache. “Hurry this up, Imre,” Nia’s voice cuts in, sounding bored. “Why don’t you listen to your girlfriend, Brandon Walsh? It’s past your bedtime,” Lorcan says; you notice his hands firmly clenching. “Oh, eat shit, Lorcan,” Nia says. The ringing gets louder, almost vibrating your head. Imre snorts. “I guess it’s a foreign concept to you to be friends with a girl and not have sex with them. Maybe you shouldn’t get so obsessed. It’s rather pitiful to have gained a life’s purpose from pining over a dead B-tier bully.” [[NEXT->Page 76]] </h3>

<h3>You’re not surprised when Lorcan’s fist slams against Imre’s face in the dark. You are surprised by how Imre only slightly stumbles. He runs his hand across his mouth, his eyes beset with excitement. You can’t hear any of it, though, just the pounding in your head, the feeling travelling down your arms to spread over your fingers. //Why don’t you just shut them all up?// The brown-haired boy returns a punch directly to Lorcan’s nose, a loud crack resounding throughout the quiet. The hit pushes Lorcan back as he grabs his face and stumbles over his feet to fall over the cliff’s edge. Lorcan swears as he goes over, and all three of you quickly go to the edge and peer down into the foliage at the bottom. Imre rubs his knuckles, a curious expression on his face. You peer at Nia, who, in turmoil, forgot that she seemed to be avoiding you and comes to stand by your side, your arms nearly brushing. But she isn’t paying attention to you. “Lorcan?” she yells. [[NEXT->Page 77]] </h3>

<h3>A groan comes up to you from beneath, with a low “fuck me” following it. It’s too dark to see below, but you can hear the rustle of movement. Lorcan groans again. “I’m gonna beat your ass when I get up there, you rich bastard,” he moans and makes more noise moving than anything else in the woods. He continues his tirade of complaining, saying, “just you fucking wait… wipe that smug smirk off your… you hit like a little bitch…” and more rustling. As by the little you can see, his dark form seems to be navigating through the abundance of greenery that mostly broke his fall. You all look at each other and shrug. Imre appears ready to say something, but, [[NEXT->Page 78]] </h3>

<h3>“HOLY SHIT!” Lorcan screams. The three of you look back down, and you squint, trying to see Lorcan. “Lorcan?” you yell. He doesn’t answer, and the leaves don’t rustle. He hasn’t moved. <hr>\ * [[🜥 “Are you ok? Do you need us to get someone?” you ask.->Page 79A]] * [[“If you're dead just scream,” you joke, not being able to help yourself.->Page 79B]] * [[🜒 Maybe you can still leave if you offer to go get someone. “Lorcan I'll go get Sally,” you say in a voice you hope sounds worried enough.->Page 79C]] </h3>

<h3>You hear the snap of a twig, and a shaky breath weaves through the night. “Umm, yeah, yeah, yeah, you should get someone Crown. You really need to get someone now,” Lorcan says in a panicked voice. “If you’re hurt, more than you were when you went down, you shouldn’t move,” Imre says as he shakes his injured hand. “No. No, I’m fine. I can… walk, I just- it’s not for me,” the blond boy’s voice quivers as it reaches you. <<set $Ethical += 1>> Nia’s breath catches, and even though she isn’t touching you, you can feel the fear radiating from her. She’s scared. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nia scared; that’s one thing you have always had in common. Imre doesn’t look frightened, but his eyebrows are pinched together, and his jaw is straining by the force at which he’s pressing his teeth together. “Lorcan…,” Nia says, trying her best to conceal the tremor in her voice, “who’s down there?” “I don’t know,” he almost whimpers. <hr>\ * [[“We need help.”->Page 80A]] * [[“We're too young for this shit.”->Page 80B]] * [[“Are they okay?”->Page 80C]] </h3>

<h3>“I’ll tell Sally to call an ambulance.” You turn to go. “Too late,” Lorcan whispers so gently that you wouldn’t have heard if the night hadn’t been so quiet. You all wait with bated breaths. “There’s not much of her left to save.” [[NEXT->Episode 1 Recap]] </h3>

<h3>This game involves serious subject matter and topics that includes mental health discrimination, bullying, dysfuctional families, death, murder, corpses, hallucinations, swearing, optional sexual content, alcohol use, tobacco use, substance abuse, gore, classism, violence, transphobia, homophobia, sexism. Predatory age gap relationships, abuse. It is intended for a mature audience, reader discretion is advised. ♥ - Friendly Romance interactions ♡ - Antagonistic Romance interactions ⟡ - Platonic Interactions 🜒- Low morality 🜥 - High morality ☄ - High worth ☽ - Low worth [[Click here if you are interested in playing a character that falls under the trans umbrella (incl. non-binary)]] //[[EPISODE SPONSOR->Episode Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3> TODAY'S EPISODE IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY CROUN HYDRO! Do you leave your downstairs lights on well into the night? No? Well, whoever is roaming your house with translucent skin and an endless supply of bloody tears is! So please do yourself a favour and turn those lights off! Don't ask why we know someone turns your downstairs lights on when all your family has gone to sleep. Do not try to catch a glimpse of the gliding figure addicted to turning on switches! Better yet do not preoccupy yourself with questions of who it is or what it wants. Just turn off those lights! Paper grows on trees but money does not! Protect your life against that thing at the edge of your vision and protect that income! //This message was brought to you by Croun Hydro for further inquiries call 1-800-// //[[PART ONE ->Part 1]]// </h3>

<h3>She exhales through her nose. “It was not my choice. Your family demanded we release you and send you back home as soon as possible. They provided us with no explanation, and honestly, as your psychiatrist, if I had known we would only have this time with you, I would’ve tried to get to the root cause of your issues much sooner. But alas, I am much too gentle with my patients.” Your mind flashes back to the time she slapped a girl named Franny Parnell on the side of the head for dropping her pudding. Or that other time, she kept you in solitary confinement for two weeks. Although, to be fair, you did attack her with a stapler. You flick the corner of the folder holding all there is to know about how fucked up you are on the inside. Other people’s words about yourself, not yours. “And did you ever figure out the root cause of all my issues?” you inquire, the first time you have ever asked this of your doctor. She leans back into her chair and rubs her forefinger against her forehead. You guess that answers that with a resounding ‘I’m not going to tell you.’ [[NEXT->Page 21]] </h3>

<h3>She narrows her rather dull eyes behind her lenses. “I never managed to expel that sarcastic and frankly rude behavioural response. At first, I thought it was a coping mechanism, but it seems you’re just naturally ungrateful and unpleasant to be around. Well, that’s no longer my concern. Be sure to inform your parents that I tried my best with you, but this isn’t a finishing school.” You remember there used to be a boy here called Francis Berry who had this unfavourable habit of slouching, so Dr. Madorna tied a wooden plank to his back for two weeks to straighten up his posture. She had tried to do that with you but gave up when you began wielding the plank-like machete at her and the orderlies. You flick the corner of the folder, holding all there is to know about how unhinged you are inside ― other people’s words about yourself, not yours. “Maybe mommy and daddy didn’t love me enough, and I fill the void with a snarky exterior to protect my fragile, innocent heart.” You can’t help but retort. She leans back in her chair and lets a prolonged and frankly dramatic sigh. You know her well enough to know it’s her way of saying ‘please leave my sight.’ [[NEXT->Page 21]] </h3>

<h3>She almost snorts but covers it up with a cough. “You have been one of my nicer patients $name, and if we haven’t made much progress, it’s through no fault of your own. How could a child ever aid a doctor of my pedigree anyway? You have not even finished secondary school, and well, dear... your scores weren’t the best when you were attending,“ she says in a tone she must be using to sound nice. You remember how once, for Christmas, a kid named Ash Finch had gifted a card to the doctor expressing their gratitude for all Dr. Madorna’s hard work, and she had accepted with a mocking smile that led you to find the card peeking out from among her trashcan later on. You had been almost tempted to slap her for that. You flick the corner of the folder, holding all there is to know about how disarrayed you are inside — other people’s words about yourself, not yours. “Either way, thank you for everything you’ve done for me, doctor. I’m sure you tried your best,“ you say with a smile you don’t feel. She leans back into her chair and tries several times to reciprocate a smile but gives up and merely grimaces, and it’s the closest you’ll get to ‘you’re welcome.’ [[NEXT->Page 21]] </h3>

<h3>She tilts her head slightly to seemingly examine you. “One the biggest obstacles in progress with you is your complete lack of response to things as simple as what you want to eat. It’s quite frustrating to sit with someone for an hour every day to open up dialogue and receive slow, blinking stares. That really does prevent me from doing my job.” The times in which you all had group therapy would be the most hair-pulling and irritating time for Dr. Madorna as in this place, you had people like you who never contributed, and on the other end, people like Cornelius Featherstone, the son of an oil magnate with aspirations of the theatre that tried to monologue every question asked. You flick the corner of the folder holding all there is to know about how broken you are on the inside — other people’s words about yourself, not yours. You decide that the best course of action is the habit and merely look her in the eyes with your mouth clamped shut and your sloth-slow blinking eyes. She leans back into her chair and stares back as well, her jawing tightening ever so perceptibly as if saying, ‘I can play your game too.’ [[NEXT->Page 21]] </h3>

<h3>You give him a small smile. “That’s nice of you, Arthur.” <<audio "crowny" stop>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He gives you a big smile. “well, that’s my middle name,” his smile falters. “Actually, no, it’s not. That’s not my middle name at all. I wasn’t trying to lie to you, Miss. I was making a joke,” which makes him panic even more.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He gives you a big smile. “well, that’s my middle name,” his smile falters. “Actually, no, it’s not. That’s not my middle name at all. I wasn’t trying to lie to you, Mister. I was making a joke,” which makes him panic even more.<</if>> “That’s NOT to say I don’t respect you as my employer, but of course I do, and I should have asked you if we’re even at the right stage, even to try to joke with you. I mean, you just spent time away in a mental health facility, so are jokes even allowed? I don’t want to upset you. This must be such a difficult time for you, and here I am, trying to be funny. Oh my god–” he frantically sputters out with eyes as wide as saucers. You stare at him blankly and lift your hand, “Arthur, it’s ok. I came back from a hospital, not Mars. I can handle a joke, and I’m also not your boss. That would be the people who pay you.” [[NEXT->Page 24AA]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He sighs in relief and puts on his cheery smile again.”Well, you’ve always been so gracious to me, Miss.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He sighs in relief and puts on his cheery smile again.”Well, you’ve always been so gracious to me, Mister.”<</if>> As he leads you to the old cherry-esque coloured Buick Roadster that has accumulated more scratches and dents than when you saw it last, he tells you about your family. Father leaves the house at dawn and doesn’t return until long after dinner has turned cold. Mother doesn’t leave her room most days; when she does, she usually goes to the town center and the pharmacy. Sally is doing fine, and Percy spends his days driving around. You lend close attention to the familial updates when he says, “well, Miss Mir did come to ask for you a few times after you left, but I haven’t seen her by the house for a long time,” as you slide into the backseat. You look up from your lap and catch his eyes in the front mirror, and he presses his eyes together momentarily as if saying //‘why did I bring that up?’// [[NEXT->Page 25]] </h3>

<h3>You smirk and say, “If you can show me how much you miss me through material means, I think it’ll help me truly //feel// it.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>His smile drops. He opens his mouth in a comical 'O,’ “I didn’t know — Mr. Salvatore only gave me like fifty dollars for gas, but you’re right. I should’ve brought more; I should be prepared you’ve been travelling all day, Miss, you must be hungry and I-“ he cuts himself off and tries to swallow a few times.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>His smile drops, and he opens his mouth in a comical ‘O,’ “I didn’t know — Mr. Salvatore only gave me like fifty dollars for gas, but you’re right. I should’ve brought more; I should be prepared. You’ve been travelling all day, Mister; you must be hungry, and I-“ he cuts himself off and tries to swallow a few times.<</if>> He tries to run his hands through his hair but forgets he’s carrying your luggage and accidentally drops it. “Oh crap,” he bends down to pick it up and mutters a series of words under his breath that sound like multiple ways he’s calling himself stupid. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and lets out a small squeak that you didn’t know a grown man was capable of. You lick your lips to stop yourself from laughing in his face. “I was only kidding, Arthur, old sport; you really shouldn’t take all the shit that spirals out of my mouth seriously. You’d get an aneurysm.” [[NEXT->Page 24BB]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He lets out a deep sigh of relief and puts on a crooked smile. “You never change, Miss,” he wags his finger at you, “the older you get, the more of a character.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He lets out a deep sigh of relief and puts on a crooked smile. “You never change, Mister,” he wags his finger at you, “the older you get, the more of a character.”<</if>> As he leads you to the old cherry-esque coloured Buick Roadster that has accumulated more scratches and dents than when you saw it last, he tells you about your family. Father leaves the house at dawn and doesn’t return until long after dinner has turned cold. Mother doesn’t leave her room most days, and when she does, it’s usually to go to the town center to the pharmacy; Salve is doing fine, and Percy spends his days driving around. You choose to block out most of the familial updates when he says, “well, Miss Mir did come to ask for you a few times after you left, but I haven’t seen her by the house for a long time,” as you slide into the backseat. You abruptly look up from your lap and catch his eyes in the front mirror, and he presses his eyes together momentarily as if saying //‘why did I bring that up?’// [[NEXT->Page 25]] </h3>

<h3>You hand him your carry-on, not bothering nor caring to answer him. He stops smiling and clears his throat awkwardly. Arthur likes to talk //a lot// and it’s always been this way since you could remember. With you, he always tried to get you to budge on something, but you pointedly ignored him. It wasn’t an elitist thing; it’s more so that you didn’t feel the need to adhere to social cues. “I’ve been good. Still taking care of the driving. You’d think it’d get boring after getting your family around the town all these years. Still, maybe it speaks on how simple my pleasures are that-” he continues to babble on for a bit in a panicky manner, a person like him fearing prolonged silences more than death itself. You stare at him with passive eyes that show neither interest nor actual attention. After a few more mundane musings on the simple pleasures derived from driving a car as old as your father and how living with a small paycheque actually strengthens character, he finally peters off. [[NEXT->Page 24CC]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He clears his throat, and if he were meaner you’d know he would roll his eyes and whisper some choice words under his breath. Still, he hums, smiles placidly and gestures towards the car, “Let’s go, shall we, Miss?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He clears his throat. If he were meaner, you’d know he would roll his eyes and whisper some choice words under his breath, but instead, he hums, smiles placidly and gestures towards the car, “let’s go, shall we, Mister?”<</if>> As he leads you to the old cherry-esque coloured Buick Roadster that has accumulated more scratches and dents than when you saw it last, he tells you about your family. Father leaves the house at dawn and doesn’t return until long after dinner has turned cold. Mother doesn’t leave her room most days, and when she does, it’s usually to go to the town center to the pharmacy; Sally is doing fine, and Percy spends his days driving around. You barely pay attention to the familial updates when he says, “well, Miss Mir did come to ask for you a few times after you left, but I haven’t seen her by the house for a long time,” as you slide into the backseat. You glance up from your lap and catch his eyes in the front mirror, and he presses his eyes together momentarily as if saying //‘why did I bring that up?’// [[NEXT->Page 25]] </h3>

<h3>Arthur looks from you to the stairs, unsure if he should offer a comment. “Well, would you like me to accompany you to your room?” You shake your head and take the suitcase from him. “No need. I remember how to get there.” After handing you the flashlight and bidding you goodnight in his cheerful way, you’re left alone. You point the flashlight to the stairs and begin walking. The steps groan dramatically under your feet, and you wonder if more than a century of use might one day have your foot going through the stairs. Your father said that this used to be the grandest and loveliest house in town. //‘How couldn’t it be? It was the home of the founder’// he would say. Apparently, your ancestor, Josiah Croun I, built the manor with bare hands. He wanted forevermore that a Croun would always live here. The slight family name change in 1920 from Croun to Crown begs the question of whether his wishes are still being met. [[NEXT->Page 33]] </h3>

<h3>Arthur’s perplexed eyes sweep from you to around the room in what seems like an attempt to see if you’re right. “Well, would you like me to accompany you to your room?” You shake your head and grab the suitcase from him. “I’m not deaf or blind, I can make it there without dying.” After handing you the flashlight and bidding you goodnight in his cheerful way, you’re left alone. You point the flashlight to the stairs and begin walking. The steps groan dramatically under your feet, and you wonder if more than a century of use might one day have your foot going through the stairs. Your father said that this used to be the grandest and loveliest house in town. //‘How couldn’t it be? It was the home of the founder’// he would say. Apparently, your ancestor Josiah Croun I built the manor with his own bare hands. He wanted forevermore that a Croun would always live here. The slight family name change in 1920 from Croun to Crown begs the question of whether his wishes are still being met. [[NEXT->Page 33]] </h3>

<h3>Arthur makes a pained look as if your cursing physically wounded him. He’s worked here forever; he probably loves this place. “Well, would you like me to accompany you to your room?” You shake your head and yank the suitcase from him. “Look, I really just want to be left alone.” After handing you the flashlight and bidding you goodnight in his cheerful way, you’re left alone. You point the flashlight to the stairs and begin walking. The steps groan dramatically under your feet, and you wonder if more than a century of use might one day have your foot going through the stairs. Your father said that this used to be the grandest and loveliest house in town. //‘How couldn’t it be? It was the home of the founder’// he would say. Apparently, your ancestor Josiah Croun I built the manor with his own bare hands. He wanted forevermore that a Croun would always live here. The slight family name change in 1920 from Croun to Crown begs the question of whether his wishes are still being met. [[NEXT->Page 33]] </h3>

<h3>Sally smiles, seemingly relieved due to the fact that he’s never liked to disappoint your father. “And don’t worry, Percy and I will be there to aid in the small talk.” “Sorry, can’t do. I have a… prior engagement, yeah, that’s it. But I expect to hear all the juicy details at Alice’s,” Percy says, pushing his chair back. He throws the napkin from his lap onto his plate and stalks from the room without another word or glance at either of you. Sally shakes his head at your brother’s retreating back, “you’ll have me.” “You've always said that to me,” you say flatly. <<if $nickname>>“And I always will $nickname,”<<elseif not $nickname>> “And I always will $name,”<</if>> he responds with a barely perceptible smile. [[NEXT->Page 46]] </h3>

<h3>The rest of the day passes by in a blur of unpacking your meagre belongings, staying in your room, and going down for dinner, just you and your brothers and their constant fighting before sleep once again. You hear Mother move around in her room, and at a certain point in the early morning hours, you hear a car turn off its engine at the front of the house — presumably your father. Time is an odd thing for you. You’ve heard of how others get impatient when nothing happens when time is as slow as the grass grows, but you have never felt that. Whether slow or fast, time doesn’t mean anything to you. You can stare at a wall for hours and neither feel boredom nor excitement. Is that pathetic? You haven’t thought to question it. You do know that most of what you are is… at odds with what is considered normal. You’ve learned not to speak about such things. As you’re not a slave to time, the welcome-home-gawk-party arrives sooner than you expect, and you find yourself standing in front of your once gilded full-length mirror, now turned into a blackened and dull version that would repel even the evil queen from peering into it to ask if she’s the prettiest in all the land. [[NEXT->Page 47]] </h3>

<h3>Sally chuckles, probably elated that you didn’t make a big fuss and that he won’t have to give your father terrible reports. “And don’t worry, Percy and I will be there to be your cheerleader.” “Sorry, can’t do. I have a… prior engagement, yeah, that’s it. But I expect to hear all the juicy details at Alice’s,” Percy says, pushing his chair back. He throws the napkin from his lap onto his plate and stalks from the room without another word or glance at either of you. Sally shakes his head at your brother’s retreating back, “you’ll have me.” “You've always said that to me,” you remark. <<if $nickname>>“And I always will $nickname,”<<elseif not $nickname>> “And I always will $name,”<</if>> he responds with a barely perceptible smile. [[NEXT->Page 46]] </h3>

<h3>You see a flash of worry in Sally’s eyes that goes as quickly as it comes. “I’m sorry, $name, you know how father can be. It’s already done. But it’s okay, Percy and I will be there.” “Sorry, can’t do it. I have a… prior engagement, yeah, that’s it. But I expect to hear all the juicy details at Alice’s,” Percy says, pushing his chair back. He throws the napkin from his lap onto his plate and stalks from the room without another word or glance at either of you. Sally shakes his head at your brother’s retreating back, “you’ll have me.” “You've always said that to me,” you reply. <<if $nickname>>“And I always will $nickname,”<<elseif not $nickname>> “And I always will $name,”<</if>> he responds with a barely perceptible smile. [[NEXT->Page 46]] </h3>

<h3>Sally raises his hands slowly and cautiously as if he were talking to a wild animal, “calm down. Breathe. I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. If it makes you feel better, Percy and I will be there for whatever you need.” “Sorry, can’t do. I have a… prior engagement, yeah, that’s it. But I expect to hear all the juicy details at Alice’s,” Percy says, pushing his chair back. He throws the napkin from his lap onto his plate and stalks from the room without another word or glance at either of you. Sally shakes his head at your brother’s retreating back, “you’ll have me.” “You've always said that to me,” you state. <<if $nickname>>“And I always will $nickname,”<<elseif not $nickname>> “And I always will $name,”<</if>> he responds with a barely perceptible smile. [[NEXT->Page 46]] </h3>

<h3>At the risk of sounding like you have tuberculosis, you cough dramatically. It’s not like how you expected. The room doesn’t suddenly go quiet in amazement as they did to the basket case in the Breakfast Club. Everyone continues talking away, and it’s not until you look at someone that anyone notices you’re there. It's... <hr>\ * [[The boy standing closest to you. Imre.->Page 53A]] * [[The girl further away to the middle of the room. Nia.->Page 53B]] * [[A boy you hadn't noticed by the furthest corner. Lorcan.->Page 53C]] </h3>

<h3>And they do hold their applause; for ego purposes, you decide to think it’s because you said to. Of course, it’s not like how you expected. They don’t all turn around dramatically with mouths open in awe of your beauty. Everyone continues talking away, and it’s not until you look at someone that anyone notices you’re there. It's... <hr>\ * [[The boy standing closest to you. Imre.->Page 53A]] * [[The girl further away to the middle of the room. Nia.->Page 53B]] * [[A boy you hadn't noticed by the furthest corner of the room. Lorcan.->Page 53C]] </h3>

<h3>You didn’t mean to end it like a question, but you’ve never really honed your public speaking skills. It’s not like how you expected. No one even has the grace to answer, that is, if they heard you. Everyone continues talking away, and it’s not until you look at someone that anyone notices you’re there. It's... <hr>\ * [[The boy standing closest to you. Imre.->Page 53A]] * [[The girl further away to the middle of the room. Nia.->Page 53B]] * [[A boy you hadn't noticed by the furthest corner of the room. Lorcan.->Page 53C]] </h3>

<h3>You kind of just... stand there. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you clasp them behind you. It’s not like how you expected. The good thing is no one sees how awkwardly you pose while waiting for notice. Everyone continues talking away, and it’s not until you look at someone that anyone notices you’re there. It's... <hr>\ * [[The boy standing closest to you. Imre.->Page 53A]] * [[The girl further away to the middle of the room. Nia.->Page 53B]] * [[A boy you hadn't noticed by the furthest corner of the room. Lorcan.->Page 53C]] </h3>

<h3>Sally quickly downs his drink while you smirk, rolling your tongue over your front teeth. Oh, for fuck’s sake. O’Connor glances down at you for a few seconds and then laughs wholeheartedly. “Fair enough, kid,” he takes a swing of his drink. Francisca had been kind of slowly swaying in a circle, but when he says this she takes a step forward to balance herself out and glare at her husband, “wat the faq iz that ‘uppost ta meen yew asshole?!” A few people around you turn to look at the commotion. Mr. Fox huffs and scrunches his nose, “calm down, will ya? I was joking,” he thankfully slides his arm off your shoulders, and you move closer to your brother, who is wiping his chin. Francisca stumbles slightly and points at him with a long french-tipped nail. Well… she points in his general vicinity, which makes it look like she’s pointing at you. “Yaur are alwayz makkin’ deez stoopid jokes! Ya wanna be dealin’ wit two divorces insteed of juan!?” she yells. You can't help but laugh cruelly. [[NEXT->Page 58]] </h3>

<h3>Sally’s side eyes you, and you think he seems to appreciate your answer. You just want to keep the peace tonight. O’Connor glances down at you for a few seconds and then laughs wholeheartedly. “You’re smarter than I was,” he takes a swing of his drink. Francisca had been kind of slowly swaying in a circle, but when he says this she takes a step forward to balance herself out and glare at her husband, “wat the faq iz that ‘uppost ta meen yew asshole?!” A few people around you turn to look at the commotion. Mr. Fox huffs and scrunches his nose, “calm down, will ya? I was joking.” He thankfully slides his arm off your shoulders, and you move closer to your brother, who is wiping his chin. Francisca stumbles slightly and points at him with a long french-tipped nail. Well… she points in his general vicinity, which makes it look like she’s pointing at you. “Yaur are alwayz makkin’ deez stoopid jokes! Ya wanna be dealin’ wit two divorces insteed of juan!?” she yells. You raise your eyebrows. [[NEXT->Page 58]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Sally, noticing you won’t keep the conversation going, says, “my sister has been busy as of late. It was good that your daughters were there, no?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Sally, noticing you won’t keep the conversation going, says, “my brother has been busy as of late. It was good that your daughters were there, no?”<</if>> O’Connor glances at your brother for a few seconds and then laughs wholeheartedly. “They hate her, think she’s a gold digger, and they might not be wrong!” he takes a swing of his drink. Francisca had been kind of slowly swaying in a circle, but when he says this she takes a step forward to balance herself out and glare at her husband “wat the faq iz that ‘uppost ta meen yew asshole?!” A few people around you turn to look at the commotion. Mr. Fox huffs and scrunches his nose, “calm down, will ya? I was joking,” he thankfully slides his arm off your shoulders, and you move closer to your brother, who is wiping his chin. Francisca stumbles slightly and points at him with a long french-tipped nail. Well… she points in his general vicinity, which makes it look like she’s pointing at you. “Yaur are alwayz makkin’ deez stoopid jokes! Ya wanna be dealin’ wit two divorces insteed of juan!?” she yells. You find your mind drifting to something random to not have to think of what you're enduring. [[NEXT->Page 58]] </h3>

<h3>You decide to amuse yourself and take a step down the stairs. No birds. No creatures in the night to speak of. No wind comes here, only at the very top of the trees during winter, and without it, it always feels like hundreds of tiny eyes are looking down at you. There’s nothing, not even the movement of either of you two. It feels like death. He doesn’t blink. Somehow, he’s managed to push the light away from his eyes. “It wasn’t with her body when they found her.” You exhale and take three steps down. You’re almost at eye level. Your blood sloshes between the crevices of your bones. <hr>\ * [[“So? I didn't find her. I didn’t touch her.”->Page 68A]] * [[“And why would I tell you anything?”->Page 68B]] * [[“I'd rather deal with O'Connor than you.”->Page 68C]] * [[“I'm not my sister's keeper.”->Page 68D]] </h3>

<h3>You never had much patience for assholes, and you feel like giving him a piece of your mind, so you take a step down the stairs. No birds. No creatures in the night to speak of. No wind comes here, only at the very top of the trees during winter, and without it, it always feels like hundreds of tiny eyes are looking down at you. There’s nothing, not even the movement of either of you two. It feels like death. He doesn’t blink. Somehow, he’s managed to push the light away from his eyes. “It wasn’t with her body when they found her.” You exhale and take three steps down. You’re almost at eye level. Your blood sloshes between the crevices of your bones. <hr>\ * [[“So? I didn't find her. I didn’t touch her.”->Page 68A]] * [[“And why would I tell you anything?”->Page 68B]] * [[“I'd rather deal with O'Connor than you.”->Page 68C]] * [[“I'm not my sister's keeper.”->Page 68D]] </h3>

<h3>It’s not like you were a social butterfly before, and the last thing you want to do is deal with him, so you step down the stairs, aiming to leave him and the house. No birds. No creatures in the night to speak of. No wind comes here, only at the very top of the trees during winter, and without it, it always feels like hundreds of tiny eyes are looking down at you. There’s nothing, not even the movement of either of you two. It feels like death. He doesn’t blink. Somehow, he’s managed to push the light away from his eyes. “It wasn’t with her body when they found her.” You exhale and take three steps down. You’re almost at eye level. Your blood sloshes between the crevices of your bones. <hr>\ *[[“So? I didn't find her. I didn't touch her.” ->Page 68A]] *[[“And why would I tell you anything?” ->Page 68B]] *[[“I'd rather deal with O'Connor than you.” ->Page 68C]] *[[“I'm not my sister's keeper.” ->Page 68D]] </h3>

<h3>“And why would I tell you that? Or anything for that matter. You haven’t been the greatest conversationalist with me. Frankly, I don’t know where whatever you’re looking for is, and nor do I care to know, so with all the offensive, leave me alone,” you say as your hands ball into fists. You reach the dirt, and he doesn’t seem intimidating from your spot. Lorcan quickly takes a drag from his cigarette and throws it away from the manor. At least he’s respectful in that. He clicks his tongue and turns around. “Ok, you hate me, fine, but if you’re going to chew me out, let’s do it somewhere private,” he waves you forward. You look through the window of the parlour, and for lack of a better prospect and the need for relief from more small talk, you begin to follow. It would be an incredibly stupid choice if you weren’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s not like you think he couldn’t; he has no love for you. It’s more so that he doesn’t feel the need to. Well, he never has before. Plus, unlike the others inside, you can tell him where to shove it. You two head away from the house towards a series of brush that overlooks a small mound of cliff that leads to a trail to a pond on the property. As Lorcan walks with you behind, you hear Mother’s voice saying to you as she did in your childhood //‘never leave the manor at dark alone, you’ll lose your way, and I’ll never be able to find my sylph again.’// You decide that if Lorcan heads for the woods, you’ll turn back, but he stops by the mini-cliff, staring you down as you meet him there. [[NEXT->Page 69]] </h3>

<h3>“I’d rather deal with O’Connor, a drunken pig who wafts his breath all over my face, instead of talking to you. Maybe you can take some pointers from him, he might be gross, but at least he isn’t a dick,” with an annoyed expression, you turn to go. “Didn’t think you cared so little about your sister. She was right about you.” That makes you stop in your tracks. You hate it. You hate how much power a simple statement like that can have over you. You turn back around, and when you reach the dirt, he doesn’t seem intimidating from your spot. Lorcan quickly takes a drag from his cigarette and throws it away from the manor. At least he’s respectful in that. He clicks his tongue and turns around, “I don’t want to talk about her where they can hear us,” he waves you forward. You look through the window of the parlour, and for lack of a better prospect and the need for relief from more small talk, you begin to follow. It would be an incredibly stupid choice if you weren’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s not like you think he couldn’t; he has no love for you. It’s more so that he doesn’t feel the need to. Well, he never has before. You don’t want to speak to him, but he knows so much about Orla; maybe if you go along, he’ll tell you things about her. You two head away from the house towards a series of brush that overlooks a small mound of cliff that leads to a trail to a pond on the property. As Lorcan walks with you behind, you hear Mother’s voice saying to you as she did in your childhood //‘never leave the manor at dark alone, you’ll lose your way, and I’ll never be able to find my sylph again.’// You decide that if Lorcan heads for the woods, you’ll turn back, but he stops by the mini-cliff, staring you down as you meet him there. [[NEXT->Page 69]] </h3>

<h3>“I’m not my sister’s keeper, or did you forget that she hated me and never told me anything? If there’s anyone that can know anything about her and answer your questions, I promise you it’s not me,” you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. “Eh, I think this is one topic you’ll be more of an expert at than others.” That makes you pause. Your relationship with your sister was complicated, to say the least, and you can’t lie; it piques your curiosity that you might know more than him. You reach the dirt, and he doesn’t seem intimidating from your spot. Lorcan quickly takes a drag from his cigarette and throws it away from the manor. At least he’s respectful in that. He clicks his tongue and turns around. “Wow, I finally found something in common with you. Let’s get rid of any potential listeners.” he waves you forward. You look through the window of the parlour, and for lack of a better prospect and the need for relief from more small talk, you begin to follow. It would be an incredibly stupid choice if you weren’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s not like you think he couldn’t; he has no love for you. It’s more so that he doesn’t feel the need to. Well, he never has before. And this is the most exciting thing you’ve had to do all night. You two head away from the house towards a series of brush that overlooks a small mound of cliff that leads to a trail to a pond on the property. As Lorcan walks with you behind, you hear Mother’s voice saying to you as she did in your childhood //‘never leave the manor at dark alone, you’ll lose your way, and I’ll never be able to find my sylph again.’// You decide that if Lorcan heads for the woods, you’ll turn back, but he stops by the mini-cliff, staring you down as you meet him there. [[NEXT->Page 69]] </h3>

<h3>You put your hands on your hips and feel the beginning of a mocking smile forming on your lips. You shrug and say, “Do I get a treat if I answer correctly? A lollipop or a dollar? I’ll go for either.” He shoots you the finger, “still the same five-year-old you’ve always been, Crowny?” You smile, “six, actually. Anyway, you’re her boyfriend. Shouldn’t you know this shit?” “Well, I don’t. She always wore it. That’s why I’m asking because she wasn’t-“ he winces as if something sharp had poked him. “-buried with it,” you finish. He rolls his lips and nods. “Yeah, before all that stuff. I just thought maybe it was left to you.” You look at nothing but the darkness of the bushes and the trunks. The moonlight does not reach here, but years of living here have made the residents adjust their eyes. Even gone for two years, that ability hasn’t left you. They say that only blood born here can nearly gain the gift of the predators of the night. <hr>\ * [[“Do you honestly see me wearing something of her's?” you huff.->Page 70BB]] * [[“Not that you deserve my help, but I'm being honest when I tell you I don't know where it is,” you try not to sound mocking.->Page 70BBB]] * [[You're bored. The literal movement of leaves is more interesting than this.->Page 70BBBB]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You hum for a moment before you speak, “I know as much as you. My parents won’t be of help, ask my brothers. They might know.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You pinch the bridge of your nose and breathe in deeply. “Do you not hear me, or do you have selective hearing? Go. Ask. Someone. Else. I’m not her only family.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3> “I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve always liked how the trees danced at night. You usually don’t have someone trying to distract you when you do this, though. A dance, a rhythm found deep in your chest. “Have you tried the boys?” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You roll your eyes, “and why are you asking __me__? Can’t you bug Sally? He’s nice enough to tell you, or Percy will if you pay him.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You take a step back. “Alright, calm down, you’re gonna faint on me. You can literally ask anyone else who lives in that house, y’know.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. The trees dance; you could dance with them. It’s like you can feel them beckoning you with the rhythm placed in your chest. But his pestering words distract you from that almost hypnotizing moment. “Why don’t you go ask my dear siblings and leave me alone?” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>You step forward and try to give him the most genuine smile you have ever given him in memory. “I wish I knew, I do, Lorcan, and I swear this isn’t me trying to trick you or pretend or make you suffer. I haven’t seen that thing in forever.” His eyes shot up for a second before dropping into slits “what’s this? What are you trying to do?” “I’m trying to be nice to you,“ you say, confused, “plus I would’ve thought you’d be better informed on her things than I am.” “If I knew, do you think I’d waste my time asking you? She always wore it. That’s why I’m asking because she didn’t have it-“ He winces as if something sharp had poked him. “-when she passed,“ you finish. He rolls his lips and nods. “Yeah, before all that stuff. I just thought that maybe you kept it safe.” You look at nothing but the darkness of the bushes and the trunks. The moonlight does not reach here, but years of living here have made the residents adjust their eyes. Even gone for two years, that ability hasn’t left you. They say that only blood born here can nearly gain the gift of the predators of the night. <hr>\ * [[“No I didn't keep it safe. I wish I had,” you answer gently.->Page 70CC]] * [[“I do want to be more of help. I can try and look for it,” you offer.->Page 70CCCC]] * [[The rustling of the trees makes you feel unsteady.->Page 70CCC]] </h3>

<h3>You cup your chin and laugh the coldest laugh you can manage, one that sounds eerily similar to the one your sister used on you. “Aw, poor little Romeo begging like a dog after his Juliet. Well, Tybalt, in this case.” He scowls, and his hand curls as if to punch you, “you’re such a little bitch.” You snort before answering, “and you’re pathetic. But that isn’t news. Instead of whining to me, maybe you should try and use that brain of yours for once. //you// probably lost it.” “I didn’t lose it. I never got it. Look, she always wore it. That’s why I’m asking because she didn’t have it-“ he winces as if something sharp had poked him. “-when she fucking died,“ you finish. He winces and reluctantly nods. “Yeah, before all that stuff. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t be so heartless to throw it away.” You look at nothing but the darkness of the bushes and the trunks. The moonlight does not reach here, but years of living here have made the residents adjust their eyes. Even gone for two years, that ability hasn’t left you. They say that only blood born here can nearly gain the gift of the predators of the night. <hr>\ * [[“One, I'm not heartless and two, I didn't even have it to throw away.” ->Page 70DD]] * [[“You, your fucking questions and that locket can you go eat shit.” ->Page 70DDD]] * [[You audibly yawn at him and make a show of paying more attention to the branches above.->Page 70DDDD]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You try to look sorry. You try to look honest. “You know who’s the responsible one? Sally. I’m sure if you ask him, he’ll know something, or what about Percy? He did care for her.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You almost answer him, but the trees are so distracting tonight. When they get like this, when they move in rhythm, you can always feel as if that music is being felt in the warmest part of your chest. “Maybe my siblings could know?” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You try and think hard on the way to help him. “We could go and ask my family? I’m sure her things must still be kept in her room.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3> “I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. You curl your lip, nearly disgusted by this display, while underneath, you feel satisfied seeing him like this. “You really have no shame, do you? Why don’t you make a fool of yourself in front of my brothers? Instead, they might be more compassionate in answering your questions.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3> “I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. Reaching your boiling point, with the red hot fury of that only known to the genuinely wrathful, even though your brain feels calm, you almost scream, “I swear to fucking god, Lorcan if you don’t shut up, I’ll tell my brothers to knock your teeth in, maybe amid your cries you can ask them if they know.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>“I need that damn necklace, Crown,” he says exasperated. Funny enough, the trees are much more interesting than whatever the hell Lorcan is doing. Their rarely ending swaying could trap you in place forever, and right now, you’d gladly accept whatever hidden power they have in that rhythm worming into your chest. “Literal trees amuse me more than you; they aren’t even human. Go mope to my brothers. They might get a kick outta this.” Lorcan huffs and runs his pale hands through his hair, tousling it more than it naturally is. “I’ve asked them a hundred times. They don’t ''fucking'' know either!” he yells the last bit and kicks at the dirt, sending a cloud of dust over the cliff. He pulls at his hair and then roughly rubs his cheek. “I don’t have anything from her. Do you understand that?” he says almost desperately. He walks away from you, walks back, walks away again, and walks right back, breathing heavily from his mouth and muttering words under his breath you can’t hear. You take a tentative step back. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps now things are different, and he would want to hurt you for not giving him that locket. You don’t even remember it that well, much less if she wore it frequently. [[NEXT->Page 71]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan’s body shakes frantically, and he seems to pull his hair to rip it out. You really didn’t think this night could get any worse. You shuffle back. Lost sylph and all that. Yeah, you could probably make it back home. Sure, you’ve never been much of an athlete, but you’re not going to let your horrible night be complete with this cherry on top. “Fuckkkk. I have nothing,” Lorcan cries quietly. You take another step back and another. He’s too distracted. You could make it back. You just need to get far enough away— Lorcan snaps his head in your direction. He lets go of his hair, drops his arms, and his mouth shifts into a hard line. The wildness that had invaded his eyes went out as quickly as a light and was replaced by nothing, like the glassy eyes of a dead fish. “What are you doing?” he says. You grow rigid even as your heart remains calm. You open your mouth to answer, “obviously getting away from a lunatic,” but Imre answers instead. “Helping $name get away from a psychopath, of course,“ he says calmly as if he’s conversing politely with a non-deranged person. [[NEXT->Page 73]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan’s body shakes frantically, and he seems to pull his hair to rip it out. As impressive as this outburst is, you have seen worse; you were in an asylum, after all. You slowly begin walking backwards. You’re a sylph that won’t get lost. You have no doubt you could make it home before he even notices you’re gone. You’ve never been interested in sports but have a habit of escaping sticky situations. “Fuckkkk. I have nothing,” Lorcan cries quietly. You take another step back and another. He’s too distracted. You could make it back. You just need to get far enough away— Lorcan snaps his head in your direction. He lets go of his hair, drops his arms, and his mouth shifts into a hard line. The wildness that had invaded his eyes went out as quickly as a light and was replaced by nothing like the glassy eyes of a dead fish. “What are you doing?” he says. You grow rigid even as your heart remains calm. You open your mouth to answer, “just moving my legs, they fell asleep, “ but Imre answers him instead. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Can’t she move a muscle without you going into a fit?” he says it calmly as if he’s conversing politely with a non-deranged person.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Can’t he move a muscle without you going into a fit?” he says it calmly as if he’s conversing politely with a non-deranged person.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 73]] </h3>

<h3>“$name if you want. I can kick the cat out,” Imre says. “And I’ll claw your eyes out,” Lorcan rebutts. “And I would appreciate it if it’s off the premises, “ you raise your voice. Your eyes ache. “Hurry this up, Imre,” Nia’s voice cuts in, sounding bored. “Why don’t you listen to your girlfriend, Brandon Walsh? It’s past your bedtime,” Lorcan says; you notice his hands firmly clenching. “Oh, eat shit, Lorcan,” Nia says. The ringing gets louder, almost vibrating your head. Imre snorts. “I guess it’s a foreign concept to you to be friends with a girl and not have sex with them. Maybe you shouldn’t get so obsessed. It’s rather pitiful to have gained a life’s purpose from pining over a dead B-tier bully.” [[NEXT->Page 76]] </h3>

<h3>“$name if you want. I can kick the cat out,” Imre says. “And I’ll claw your eyes out,” Lorcan rebuts. “Alright, I think all of us need to take a deep breath and let cooler heads prevail, “ you advise. Your eyes ache. “Hurry this up, Imre,” Nia’s voice cuts in, sounding bored. “Why don’t you listen to your girlfriend, Brandon Walsh? It’s past your bedtime,” Lorcan says; you notice his hands clench. “Oh, eat shit, Lorcan,” Nia says. The ringing gets louder, almost vibrating your head. Imre snorts. “I guess it’s a foreign concept to you to be friends with a girl and not have sex with them. Maybe you shouldn’t get so obsessed. It’s rather pitiful to have gained a life’s purpose from pining over a dead B-tier bully.” [[NEXT->Page 76]] </h3>

<h3>“$name if you want. I can kick the cat out,” Imre says. “And I’ll claw your eyes out,” Lorcan rebuts. You try to distract yourself and wonder if the little quiches you saw some guest nibble on are all gone or not. Your eyes ache. “Hurry this up, Imre,” Nia’s voice cuts in, sounding bored. “Why don’t you listen to your girlfriend, Brandon Walsh? It’s past your bedtime,” Lorcan says; you notice his hands firmly clenching. “Oh, eat shit, Lorcan,” Nia says. The ringing gets louder, almost vibrating your head. Imre snorts. “I guess it’s a foreign concept to you to be friends with a girl and not have sex with them. Maybe you shouldn’t get so obsessed. It’s rather pitiful to have gained a life’s purpose from pining over a dead B-tier bully.” [[NEXT->Page 76]] </h3>

<h3>You hear the snap of a twig, and a shaky breath weaves through the night. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah, that’s super funny, Crowny. I’m not dead, but-” Lorcan’s voice as he speaks sounds strange. “If you’re hurt, more than you were when you went down, you shouldn’t move,” Imre says as he shakes his injured hand. “No. No, I’m fine. I can… walk, I just- it’s not for me,” the blond boy’s voice quivers as it reaches you. Nia’s breath catches, and even though she isn’t touching you, you can feel the fear radiating from her. She’s scared. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nia scared; that’s one thing you have always had in common. Imre doesn’t look frightened, but his eyebrows are pinched together, and his jaw is straining by the force at which he’s pressing his teeth together. “Lorcan…” Nia says, trying her best to conceal the tremor in her voice, “who’s down there?” “I don’t know,” he almost whimpers. <hr>\ * [[“We need help.”->Page 80A]] * [[“We're too young for this shit.”->Page 80B]] * [[“Are they okay?”->Page 80C]] </h3>

<h3>You hear a snap of a twig and a shaky breath waves through the night. “As pure as your intentions are, I don’t think your brother’s gonna be enough. There’s a-” he cuts off, and swears you hear a sob. <<set $Corrupt += 1>> “If you’re hurt, more than you were when you went down, you shouldn’t move,” Imre says as he shakes his injured hand. “No. No, I’m fine. I can… walk, I just- it’s not for me,” the blond boy’s voice quivers as it reaches you. Nia’s breath catches, and even though she isn’t touching you, you can feel the fear radiating from her. She’s scared. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nia scared; that’s one thing you have always had in common. Imre doesn’t look frightened, but his eyebrows are pinched together, and his jaw is straining by the force at which he’s pressing his teeth together. “Lorcan…” Nia says, trying her best to conceal the tremor in her voice, “who’s down there?” “I don’t know,” he almost whimpers. <hr>\ * [[“We need help.”->Page 80A]] * [[“We're too young for this shit.”->Page 80B]] * [[“Are they okay?”->Page 80C]] </h3>

<h3>“I don’t know about you guys, but I wouldn’t trust us to get along, much less deal with a body. I’ll get a doctor or something, “ you say hurriedly. “Too late,” Lorcan whispers so gently that you wouldn’t have heard it if the night hadn’t been so quiet. You all wait with bated breaths. “There’s not much of her left to save.” [[NEXT->Episode 1 Recap]] </h3>

<h3>“Are they hurt? Maybe I could go run to the house and find some gauze, and meanwhile, I’ll tell an adult to call emergency services, “ you say with a slight tremble in your voice. “Too late,” Lorcan whispers so gently that you wouldn’t have heard if the night hadn’t been so quiet. You all wait with bated breaths. “There’s not much of her left to save.” [[NEXT->Episode 1 Recap]] </h3>

<h3> No. None ever stuck and no one tried to anyway. But you were asked a question weren't you? Dr. Madorna taps her fingernail against her cheek, waiting for your answer. Which is simply... <<cycle '$sexanswer' autoselect>><<option 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>><<option 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>><<option 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>><<option 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>><<option 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Page 19]] </h3>

<h3> Yes, you remember now what a select few in your life have called you. But you weren't asked this question by the doctor, you asked it to yourself. Dr. Madorna taps her fingernail against her cheek, waiting for your answer. Which is simply...<<cycle '$sexanswer' autoselect>><<option 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>><<option 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>><<option 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>><<option 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>><<option 'you have never thought that matters and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Page 19]] </h3>

<h3>__ ''//LAST TIME ON WE WRETCHED CREATURES...//''__ //In more than a century nothing has changed the deep fabric of this place called Croun and life will continue on for it. It’s only as one moves in closer that you begin to see the jagged slashes obscured by the pretty quaintness...// °°°° //“$name Cairo Crown. Age 18...after twenty-four months of successful treatment $heshe is being released back into the care of $hisher parents...”// °°°° //“'...it would good to reintroduce you back into the families of good stock in the town and so a little- a tiny, tiny, get together has been organized tomorrow night here.”// °°°° //“Orla’s locket, where is it?” Lorcan says.// °°°° //You’re not surprised when Lorcan’s fist slams against Imre’s face in the dark.// //The brown-haired boy returns a punch directly to Lorcan’s nose, a loud crack resounding throughout the quiet. The hit pushes Lorcan back as he grabs his face and stumbles over his own feet to fall over the edge of the cliff.// °°°° //“who’s down there?”// //“I don’t know” he almost whimpers.// //“There’s not much of her left to save.”// //[[THIS EPISODE'S SPONSOR->Episode 2 Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3> //Do you hear the scratches in your homes in times of silence? Do you get that uneasy feeling that if you look under your bed, you’ll see beady eyes staring back at you? Has your food been tampered with by little razor sharp bites? Well, you’ve come to the right place! Barry’s extermination society is your go-to for any and all pest control, especially those pests that other boring exterminators won't touch because they don’t understand like Barry and his team does. Giant mutant rats with pointy teeth? Cockroaches that burrow into your skin? The little Victorian children in your basement that ask for food and won’t leave? Barry can exterminate them all! Give us a ring day or night, leave us a message on the answering machine, and we won’t hesitate to come to the rescue of any Croun resident. It’s cheap too! One drop of your blood as payment, and we'll leave your house spotless. This message has been brought to you by Barry’s Extermination Society for appointments call 127-// [[NEXT->Episode 2: There Maybe Troubles]] //Content warnings: spousal abuse, familial abuse, mental health discrimination// </h3>

<h2> S1 EPISODE 2: There Maybe Troubles, in Your Mind </h2> <h3> //The year 1984// Your siblings and you are all looking down at your food. Trying to eat like you've been trying to for the past thirty minutes. The gray sky of the day matches the mood in the dining room. The entire staff caught the flu and so with no one to wash the dishes, Sally tried, but he left hardened pieces of food on the plates, and so he opted to get you all plastic ones from the store. They’re birthday ones, colorful with Happy Birthday! in synchro lettering surrounded by confetti. He tried his best this morning for breakfast, your selection on the table is bread untoasted and toasted, peanut butter, strawberry jam, cereal, milk, orange juice, and runny eggs. Sally doesn’t even trust his own cooking, so he’s foregone the eggs, and he’s slowly nibbling on his cereal with an absentminded look on his face. He always maintains that every one of you has to eat your meals together. Whenever he notices you looking, he flashes you a quick smile, as this is all he’s prone to do at a time like this. Percy has always eaten enough for himself and then some. He’s plowing through the mountain monstrosity of eggs, switching from that to cereal and from cereal to his PB&J sandwich. As much as he’s quickly stuffing his face, wiping his dirty fingers everywhere, he’s also adding salt to all close surfaces. An odd preference of his. He looks up only briefly to pile more food on, but otherwise ignores everyone else. Your sister sits across from you. She has her soft hair up in a ponytail today, a pink bow clipped to the side of her head. She’s meticulously spreading peanut butter on her bread, licking her fingers when she accidentally touches it. Not only that, but she eats less than all of you, and always has, she says food doesn’t really interest her that much, and she says she doesn’t want to be fat. Every time there’s a rise in pitch of the voices, she looks from the door to you. You move your food around your plate, the yelling not doing much to motivate you to eat. When you woke up this morning, you knew it was going to be a bad one. You could feel the electricity in the air, taste it as your mouth opened, and you swirled your tongue around. Mother had begun drinking rather early and your father had started at her about it like he always did, calling her words you yet didn’t understand like ‘alcoholic,’ ‘junkie,’ ‘bitch,’ ‘coked-up slut.’ Your Mother always tried to ignore him when he got like this, even as he followed her from room to room. [[NEXT->Page 81]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>It had gone on like that for a bit before he said “no wonder she’s like this.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>It had gone on like that for a bit before he said “no wonder he’s like this.”<</if>> That’s when Mother’s walking stopped. You could hear it so clearly from the thin walls in your room. You knew that all your siblings were lying in bed like you were, listening too. You, their<<if $pronouns is 'she'>>daughter.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>son.<</if>> There was a silence and then that’s when the mutual yelling began. Sally had knocked on each of your doors, helped you get dressed and ushered you downstairs for breakfast. Now here you all sat, the Crown children, trying to pretend you’re a normal little family starting the day together while your parents have it out on the second floor. This whole time you’ve spent it... <hr>\ * [[Ignoring the fighting and focusing on your plate.->Page 82A]] * [[Anxiously darting your eyes from your siblings to the dining room door.->Page 82B]] * [[Balling your tiny hand into a fist and clenching your teeth.->Page 83C]] </h3>

<h3> You were focusing on making your food. It was a nice distraction you found; adding the peanut butter and jam to the bread slices, pouring the cereal and the sound of the milk running through the pieces. It kept your hands busy and in a way your mind. After making your food, that's when the problem began because all you could do to keep yourself busy was play with your move around the contents on your plate which Sally didn't like but he didn't say anything. Something crashes against the floor upstairs and all of you whip your heads in that direction, ears listening attentively. “You're the one with the fucked-up family! As far as I know mine is clean! We don't have goddamn lunatics running around embarrassing the family Victor!“ your Mother screams. Sally quickly grabs your hand <<if $nickname>>“$nickname eat your food before it gets soggy.”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name eat your food before it gets soggy.” <</if>> You look from him to the door, and you feel a tiny little pressure in the middle of your forehead, like someone is pressing their finger against your skull. <<if $nickname>>“Hey $nickname“<<elseif not $nickname>>“Hey $name“<</if>> Orla says and snaps her fingers. You turn to her and she says “Sal said that if we all finish eating fast enough we can go to the lake for the rest of the day. Isn't that right?” she smiles sweetly and motions to your brother. He mimics her expression with a slight twitch to his cheeks, “of course. But only kids that finish their breakfast are allowed to go swimming.” He picks up his spoon and eats, trying to get you to do the same. Orla nudges Percy with her elbow. “Ow,” he says with a mouthful of bread and raises his eyebrow, your sister quirks her head in your direction and he huffs before looking at you for the first time today “yeah what they said, that's why I'm eating so fast, I want to go to the lake.” He then goes back to eating. You're so young now. You're old enough to know they're all trying to do something but you're too young to know what. <hr>\ * [[You do as you're told and eat.->Page 83]] * [[You stubbornly push your plate away from you.->Page 83]] </h3>

<h3> Your leg was bouncing up and down and you couldn't help but turn to look to the door of the dining room as often as you could. You could feel your heart beating so quickly inside your chest and you felt the movement of your insides. It felt like you were going to be sick. You had a good ability to pay the world no mind, as if you could move yourself outside of it but you could never truly do that when your parents fought and these days their fighting was consistently about you. Something crashes against the floor upstairs and all of you whip your heads in that direction, ears listening attentively. “You're the one with the fucked-up family! As far as I know mine is clean! We don't have goddamn lunatics running around embarrassing the family Victor!“ your Mother screams. Sally quickly grabs your hand<<if $nickname>>“$nickname eat your food before it gets soggy.”<<elseif not $nickname>> “$name eat your food before it gets soggy.” <</if>> You look from him to the door, and you feel a tiny little pressure in the middle of your forehead, like someone is pressing their finger against your skull. <<if $nickname>>“Hey $nickname“<<elseif not $nickname>>“Hey $name“<</if>> Orla says and snaps her fingers. You turn to her and she says “Sal said that if we all finish eating fast enough we can go to the lake for the rest of the day. Isn't that right?” she sweetly smiles and motions to your brother. He mimics her expression with a slight twitch to his cheeks “of course. But only kids that finish their breakfast are allowed to go swimming.” He picks up his spoon and eats, trying to get you to do the same. Orla nudges Percy with her elbow. “Ow“ he says with a mouthful of bread and raises his eyebrow, your sister quirks her head in your direction and he huffs before looking at you for the first time today “yeah what they said, that's why I'm eating so fast, I want to go to the lake.” He then goes back to eating. You're so young now. You're old enough to know they're all trying to do something but you're too young to know what. <hr>\ * [[You do as you're told and eat.->Page 83]] * [[You stubbornly push your plate away from you.->Page 83]] </h3>

<h3> Your skin felt so warm and your tiny nails were digging so hard into your palm you could feel the breaking of the skin. A boiling whirlpool was mounting in your stomach and your muscles had grown taut. You felt ready to spring into action at any moment, your body poised like a lion crouching along the tall grass of the wild lands. You never understood yourself when you got like this. You didn't understand why your body had these physical changes while your head didn't have the thoughts to ignite them. There was a disconnect there, but that didn't matter yet. Something crashes against the floor upstairs and all of you whip your heads in that direction, ears listening attentively. “You're the one with the fucked-up family! As far as I know mine is clean! We don't have goddamn lunatics running around embarrassing the family Victor!“ your Mother screams. Sally quickly grabs your hand<<if $nickname>>“$nickname eat your food before it gets soggy.”<<elseif not $nickname>> “$name eat your food before it gets soggy.” <</if>> You look from him to the door, and you feel a tiny little pressure in the middle of your forehead, like someone is pressing their finger against your skull. <<if $nickname>>“Hey $nickname“<<elseif not $nickname>>“Hey $name“<</if>> Orla says and snaps her fingers. You turn to her and she says “Sal said that if we all finish eating fast enough we can go to the lake for the rest of the day. Isn't that right?” she sweetly smiles and motions to your brother. He mimics her expression with a slight twitch to his cheeks “of course. But only kids that finish their breakfast are allowed to go swimming.” He picks up his spoon and eats, trying to get you to do the same. Orla nudges Percy with her elbow. “Ow“ he says with a mouthful of bread and raises his eyebrow, your sister quirks her head in your direction and he huffs before looking at you for the first time today “yeah what they said, that's why I'm eating so fast, I want to go to the lake.” He then goes back to eating. You're so young now. You're old enough to know they're all trying to do something but you're too young to know what. <hr>\ * [[You do as you're told and eat.->Page 83]] * [[You stubbornly push your plate away from you.->Page 83]] </h3>

<h3> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You don't think I haven't asked myself where she gets it from? Do you think I like that she's like this? //I've tried my best//“ your father says heatedly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You don't think I haven't asked myself where he gets it from? Do you think I like that he's like this? //I've tried my best//“ your father says heatedly.<</if>> “And what do you think I've been doing?” your mother answers with a shrill to her voice “I've raised $himher haven't I? I could handle the way that child would just stand there like a robot and stare at a wall unblinking for hours-“ The ache spreads along your head like a wave. “Prudence-“ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“- I could handle the phone calls from the school and the parents telling me how she says these horrible things to the other children, scaring them-“<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“- I could handle the phone calls from the school and the parents telling me how he says these horrible things to the other children, scaring them-“<</if>> “Shut up-“ Your ears begin to buzz in a rising crescendo. “For fucks sake I got up with you and Arthur to go look for $himher every time someone called us because $heshe would sleepwalk all the way to their backyards. I took all of that in, what I can't take in are these fits of rage! What they did to that little girl-“ “I swear to god I'll slap-“ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“And you know who they blame when a kid turns out wrong? Not the father! Never the father! It's always going to be on me! They think our daughter's is a freak because of me when it's your dirty blood, diseased blood that made them this way!“ she yells so loud you can hear the cracks in her voice.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“And you know who they blame when a kid turns out wrong? Not the father! Never the father! It's always going to be on me! They think our son's is a freak because of me when it's your dirty blood, diseased blood that made them this way!“ she yells so loud you can hear the cracks in her voice.<</if>> This aching, this buzzing you feel traveling down your body heading to your extremities. A loud sound interrupts her tirade and a slight stumble follows it before all goes quiet. [[NEXT->Page 84]] </h3>

<h3> Your siblings stop eating, even Percy pushes away his food in disgust. You get the feeling someone should do something but you don't know what that is. The noise in your head prevents you from thinking clearly. Sally puts his hand on top of yours and seems to be saying something but you can't hear him. His mouth is moving but no words penetrate through this sound, this ache, you just want it all to stop. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Beat the shit out of me I don't care. That's not going to change the truth about your daughter. She is going to destroy this family mark my words Victor, $name is here to punish us, to punish you and me,” your Mother's muffled voice can still be heard faintly. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Beat the shit out of me I don't care. That's not going to change the truth about your son. He is going to destroy this family mark my words Victor, $name is here to punish us, to punish you and me,” your Mother's muffled voice can still be heard faintly.<</if>> Your body is constricting, you feel like you're being pulled in tightly by this sensation. You don't know what this is but you feel as if something bad is about to happen. Orla pushes her chair back and walks to your side of the table, kneeling down to look up at you. She's speaking too but you can't hear anything. //Why can't they see you can't hear them?// She touches you, lays her soft hand on your arm and you can see she has a curious expression on her face mixed with a tinge of worry. You feel your hand rise... <hr>\ * [[🜒 You let it.->Page 85A]] * [[🜥 You try to push it back down.->Page 85B]] </h3>

<h3> Somewhere deep inside you, you know that resisting is futile. Are you in control? Is this just you doing this? Questions you'll ask yourself for years afterward. You're so young you can't tell what you mean and what you don't. Either way, whether you want to or not your arm rises and you backhand her across the face so hard she falls back and lands with a hard thud to the floor. Sally and Percy quickly spring into action and rush to Orla's side as she clutches her face. Percy looks at you and is saying something quickly but you can't hear him, he's angry but you can't muster enough to care. Why was she standing near you anyway? You try to connect your brain with your tongue to say “Orla it's-“ but the words feel too heavy in your mouth. The buzzing is still there and you know it has to do with the fight upstairs. //'They said horrible things about you didn't they?'// Your voice in your head speaks to you. You've never heard it like this. So cold. So mature.<<set $Corrupt += 1>> //'How dare they speak to you like that? Blaming you for things you have no control over? They've never loved you. All they see you as is a waste. A waste of birth. A waste of space. A waste of a good family name. If they're going to be so cruel at the very least they can let you eat in peace.'// You can't tell if this is something you want if this voice that sounds like you is speaking desires and thoughts you've had. But it's offering you something. Helping you in making it all quiet. At least for today. Orla lets her hands uncover her mouth, a trail of saliva-covered blood dripping down her chin to her clothes. She's crying. You've never seen her cry. The tears trail down her cheeks so pretty, mixing in with her liquid blood. She makes no noise. Your hand moves again towards... <hr>\ * [[a knife by your brother's plate.->Page 86A]] * [[a porcelain cup by the orange juice.->Page 86B]] * [[the edge of the table, you're making to stand up.->Page 86C]] </h3>

<h3> You don't know what's happening but you try your hardest to push your hand back down. You know it's going to do something it shouldn't, something bad. You don't want to do something bad. You don't like it when you do. Either way, whether you want to or not your arm rises and you backhand her across the face so hard she falls back and lands with a hard thud to the floor. <<set $Ethical += 1>> Sally and Percy quickly spring into action and rush to Orla's side as she clutches her face. Percy looks at you and is saying something quickly but you can't hear him, he's angry and you try to make your brain move your tongue, it seems like everything is disconnected. “Orla I'm-“ the words feel too heavy in your mouth. The buzzing is still there and you know it has to do with the fight upstairs. //'They said horrible things about you didn't they?'// Your voice in your head speaks to you. You've never heard it like this. So cold. So mature. //'How dare they speak to you like that? Blaming you for things you have no control over? They've never loved you. All they see you as is a waste. A waste of birth. A waste of space. A waste of a good family name. If they're going to be so cruel at the very least they can let you eat in peace.'// You can't tell if this is something you want if this voice that sounds like you is speaking desires and thoughts you've had. But it's offering you something. Helping you in making it all quiet. At least for today. Orla lets her hands uncover her mouth, a trail of saliva-covered blood dripping down her chin to her clothes. She's crying. You've never seen her cry. The tears trail down her cheeks so pretty, mixing in with her liquid blood. She makes no noise. Your hand moves again towards... <hr>\ * [[a knife by your brother's plate.->Page 86A]] * [[a porcelain cup by the orange juice.->Page 86B]] * [[the edge of the table, you're making to stand up.->Page 86C]] </h3>

<h3> Do you try to resist? <hr>\ * [[Yes.->Page 87A]] * [[No.->Page 87AA]] </h3>

<h3> Do you try to resist? <hr>\ * [[Yes.->Page 87B]] * [[No.->Page 87BB]] </h3>

<h3> Do you try to resist? <hr>\ * [[Yes.->Page 87C]] * [[No.->Page 87CC]] </h3>

<h3> You try with all your might to pull your hand back. You strain all the muscles your tiny body has and for a second, for just a moment your hand moves back. It's yours once again. It's not... theirs. You feel the buzzing lessen, your ache is reduced to a slight little prick. You make it move back against your chair but a spasm takes over your whole arm and you reach over and grip the small knife tightly. You don't feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With the knife pressed against your side, you calmly and heavily step your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88A]] </h3>

<h3> You let your hand guide itself. You've decided to follow the wave of idleness. You don't know how you know but you're sure that you'll be fine. Nothing bad will ever happen to you, it won't let any harm come to you. Right now in this state of no control, the pain of the ache, the disorienting buzzing has lessened to a degree. You can still feel those sensations but they aren't as bad as you originally thought. You pick up the knife. You much less feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With the knife pressed against your side, you calmly and heavily step your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88A]] </h3>

<h3>You try with all your might to pull your hand back. You strain all the muscles your tiny body has and for a second, for just a moment your hand moves back. It's yours once again. It's not... its. You feel the buzzing lessen, your ache is reduced to a slight little prick. You make it move back against your chair but a spasm takes over your whole arm and you reach over and grip the delicate cup in your small hand. You don't feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With the knife pressed against your side, you calmly and heavily step your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88B]] </h3>

<h3> You let your hand guide itself. You've decided to follow the wave of idleness. You don't know how you know but you're sure that you'll be fine. Nothing bad will ever happen to you, it won't let any harm come to you. Right now in this state of no control the pain of the ache, and the disorienting buzzing has lessened to a degree. You can still feel those sensations but they aren't as bad as you originally thought. You pick up a cup. You much less feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With the cup dangling by your pointer finger, pressed against leg your you calmly and heavily make your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88B]] </h3>

<h3>You try with all your might to pull your hand back. You strain all the muscles your tiny body has and for a second, for just a moment your hand moves back. It's yours once again. It's not... its. You feel the buzzing lessen, your ache is reduced to a slight little prick. You make it move back against your chair but a spasm takes over your whole arm and you reach over to grip the side of the table roughly, your fingernails digging into the tablecloth. You don't feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With the knife pressed against your side, you calmly and heavily step your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88C]] </h3>

<h3> You let your hand guide itself. You've decided to follow the wave of idleness. You don't know how you know but you're sure that you'll be fine. Nothing bad will ever happen to you, it won't let any harm come to you. Right now in this state of no control the pain of the ache, and the disorienting buzzing has lessened to a degree. You can still feel those sensations but they aren't as bad as you originally thought. You strongly grip the side of the table. You much less feel as more see yourself pushing your seat back, getting up, and stepping over your crying sister and scared brothers. Sally tries in vain to grab your hand but you brush him off as if he were a fly and not your older brother who's stronger than you. You twist the door handle and push the door open. With a strong weight bearing down on your shoulders, you calmly and heavily make your way up the stairs. Your steps are measured, slow and sure. Your body knows what it's going to do if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. When you reach the second floor you mechanically swivel to the right and walk a few steps until you stand in front of your parents' open bedroom door. The bay window behind the grand bed sheds rays of gray light over your parents. Your mother is leaning against the vanity, her manicured hand clutching her cheek while your father stands poised across from her, in the middle of the room with his hands open at his sides. [[NEXT->Page 88C]] </h3>

<h3> Your mother notices you first. Your father follows her direction and his eyes immediately travel to the knife clenched in your hand. He clicks his tongue and relaxes his posture, his hands spread out in an open gesture, a welcoming gesture as if he's aiming to hug you, a strange thought given he's never done so before. He tries to smile but it looks awkward on his haggard face while your mother's eyes quickly flick from your face to the knife and back without any change to her expression. Her hand drops from her face and she just stares, unperturbed. “$name what are you doing? You should be with your brothers and sister“ your father says as lightly as if he's not slowly coming towards you with a tension in his practiced faux blase. You know he wants to take it from you. You... <hr>\ * [[point it at him.->Page 89A]] * [[point at it at yourself.->Page 89AA]] * [[point it at your mother.->Page 89AAA]] </h3>

<h3> Your mother notices you first. Your father follows her direction and his eyes immediately travel to the cup clenched in your hand. He clicks his tongue and relaxes his posture, his hands spread out in an open gesture, a welcoming gesture as if he's aiming to hug you, a strange thought given he's never done so before. He tries to smile but it looks awkward on his haggard face while your mother's eyes quickly flick from your face to the cup and back without any change to her expression. Her hand drops from her face and she just stares, unperturbed. “$name what are you doing? You should be with your brothers and sister“ your father says as lightly as he as if he's not slowly coming towards you with a tension in his practiced faux blase. You know he wants to take it from you. You... <hr>\ * [[smash the cup on the ground, take the shard for yourself.->Page 89B]] * [[smash the cup on the ground, take the shard for him.->Page 89BB]] * [[smash the cup on the ground, take the shard for mother.->Page 89BBB]] </h3>

<h3> Your mother notices you first. Your father follows her direction and his eyes grow worried, you don't know why, you aren't doing anything. He clicks his tongue and relaxes his posture, his hands spread out in an open gesture, a welcoming gesture as if he's aiming to hug you, a strange thought given he's never done so before. He tries to smile but it looks awkward on his haggard face while your mother's eyes quickly flick around your face, from your forehead to your chin without any change to her expression. Her hand drops from her face and she just stares, unperturbed. “$name what are you doing? You should be with your brothers and sister“ your father says as lightly as he as if he's not slowly coming towards you with a tension in his practiced faux blase. He must see something in your eyes, something that scares him. You... <hr>\ * [[narrow your eyes.->Page 89C]] * [[smile widely.->Page 89CC]] * [[bare your teeth.->Page 89CCC]] </h3>

<h3> You bring it up and point it at your father. Given your height, it's aimed at his stomach. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the knife. It's not a toy, you could really hurt me“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing to him?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to hurt him.''->Page 90A]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90AA]] </h3>

<h3> You bring it up and point it at yourself. You aim it at your throat, pressing the sharp tip to your delicate flesh. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the knife. It's not a toy, you could really hurt yourself“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want them to hurt.''->Page 90AAAAA]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90AAAAAA]] </h3>

<h3> You bring it up and point it at your mother. She's further away but you edge closer and she visibly shifts. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the knife. It's not a toy, you could really hurt mommy“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing to her?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to hurt her.''->Page 90AAA]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90AAAA]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. He hurt mother, didn't he? But you aren't really doing this because of that. He'll hurt you. You have to hurt him first. <<set $knifed to true>> He quickly lunges for you but not quick enough. You thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of his epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You want to slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You want to go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your father. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the blade, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father she sitting on the bed, a pained look on his face while your mother presses a stained cloth to his stomach. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your father groans after every breath and he falls back on the bed, still holding his stomach. Your mother looks from his fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on her face. It was disgust. [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. You don't know why you're doing this. You don't want to hurt your father. It'll make him believe that everything mother said is true. He quickly lunges for you and you can't help but thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of his epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You feel you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your father. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the blade, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father she sitting on the bed, a pained look on his face while your move presses a stained cloth to his stomach. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your father groans after every breath and he falls back on the bed, still holding his stomach. Your mother looks from his fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on her face. It was disgust. <<set $knifed to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> You quickly bring the cup down on the ground, the smash preceding the quick scattering of pieces. You lunge for a big jagged one and point it at your chest, over your heart. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the shard. It's not a toy, you could really hurt yourself“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing to yourself?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to hurt them.''->Page 90B]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90BB]] </h3>

<h3> You quickly bring the cup down on the ground, the smash preceding the quick scattering of pieces. You lunge for a big jagged one and point it at your father, aiming it at his stomach. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the shard. It's not a toy, you could really hurt me“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing to him?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to hurt him.''->Page 90BBB]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90BBBB]] </h3>

<h3> You quickly bring the cup down on the ground, the smash preceding the quick scattering of pieces. You lunge for a big jagged one and point it at her, she's further away but you edge closer and she visibly shifts. Your arm is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name give me the shard. It's not a toy, you could really hurt mommy“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing to her?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to hurt her.''->Page 90BBBBB]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90BBBBBB]] </h3>

<h3> You narrow your eyes into slights. You don't need a weapon. You know what they both think of you and that's threat enough. Your body is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name relax, everything here is fine. Don't get agitated you know what happens when you do“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to scare them.''->Page 90C]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90CC]] </h3>

<h3> You stretch your lips painfully wide. You don't need a weapon. You know what they both think of you and that's threat enough. Your body is still. Strong. You feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name relax, everything here is fine. Don't get agitated you know what happens when you do“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to scare them.''->Page 90CCC]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90CCCC]] </h3>

<h3> You open your mouth and bare your teeth, pressing them tightly together. You don't need a weapon. You know what they both think of you and that's threat enough. Your body is still. Strong. you feel an eerie calm now. The buzzing, the aching is humming, gently. It's almost... peaceful. “Sweetheart...” your father hesitates and falters in his steps. He holds up his hands now in surrender almost. It could almost be amusing how a child could erect so much fear in a grown man. It's not funny. It's not anything. It more feels like this is a dream. The hazy gray light from the window giving everything a soft look. “$name relax, everything here is fine. Don't get agitated you know what happens when you do“ your father's voice gets a little rougher. //'What do you feel like doing?'// that voice, your __voice__ asks. <hr>\ * [[''I want to scare them.''->Page 90CCCCC]] * [[''I don't want to do anything.''->Page 90CCCCCC]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>They hate you? Fine, let them feel what it feels to get their wish. See if they like it when their daughter is out of their lives.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>They hate you? Fine, let them feel what it feels to get their wish. See if they like it when their son is out of their lives.<</if>> He quickly lunges for you but not quick enough. You thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of your epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You want to slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You want to go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with your own blood. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks the shard out from you, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. While your mother presses a stained cloth to your throat. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You feel blood in your mouth and you want to swallow but there's too much blood, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother harshly presses down on your throat. Both of your parents look from your neck to your face and you something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $shardmc to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You don't care if they hate you. You're not going to hurt them, they're your parents after all. You don't want to give them the responsbility of having their daughter out of their lives.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You don't care if they hate you. You're not going to hurt them, they're your parents after all. You don't want to give them the responsbility of having their son out of their lives.<</if>> He quickly lunges for you and regretfully you thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of your epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You feel you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with your own blood. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks the shard out from you, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one but a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. While your mother presses a stained cloth to your throat. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You feel blood in your mouth and you want to swallow but there's too much of it all, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother harshly presses down on your throat. Both of your parents look from your neck to your face and you something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $shardmc to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. It's not fair. You've done nothing wrong. Why is it that they hate you for things they've done? They're the ones who brought you into this world. You want them to feel the hate they have for you reflected back at them through your eyes. You feel your glare going deeper, if that's even possible. Deep into your eye sockets. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You hate them and your head hurts and you just want to close your eyes. You feel blood in your ears and you want them cleaned out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in her eyes that you'll never forget. It was disgust. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. They might not love you but that doesn't mean you want to inflict on them the kind of pain they do to you. You aren't like them and the last thing you want to do is make trouble. You're glaring but you don't feel hateful. You feel your glare going deeper, if that's even possible. Deep into your eye sockets. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You don't want them near you but you also crave their attention, how odd. You feel blood in your ears and you want them out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in your mother's eyes that you'll never forget. It was disgust. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. She said so many horrible things about you. She thinks you're a monster. You could say you're doing this in self-defence but this isn't the truth. Let her believe everything she thinks is true. <<set $knifem to true>> He quickly lunges for you but you side-step him and launch yourself at your mother. She doesn't have time to react before you thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of her epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You want to slide it all the way in, deep into those bones that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You want to go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your mother. Before you can push deeper your mother grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the blade, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your mother is sitting on the bed, a pained look on her face while your father presses a stained cloth to her side. He's yelling at Sally to call the ambulance. Your mother moans after every breath and she falls back on the bed, still holding her stomach. Your father looks from her fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on his face. It was fear. [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. Yes, she's been mean to you. You know she doesn't love you the way she loves Orla, Percy and Sally but she's your mother, you don't want to hurt her. He quickly lunges for you and against your desires you side-step him and launch yourself at your mother. She doesn't have time to react before you thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of her epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You feel you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those bones that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your mother. Before you can push deeper your mother grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the blade, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one but a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your mother is sitting on the bed, a pained look on her face while your father presses a stained cloth to her side. He's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your mother moans after every breath and she falls back on the bed, still holding her stomach. Your father looks from her fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on his face. It was fear. <<set $knifem to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>They hate you? Fine, let them feel what it feels to get their wish. See if they like it when their daughter is out of their lives.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>They hate you? Fine, let them feel what it feels to get their wish. See if they like it when their son is out of their lives.<</if>> He quickly lunges for you but not quick enough. You thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of your epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You want to slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You want to go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with your own blood. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks the blade away from you, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. While your mother presses a stained cloth to your throat. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You feel blood in your mouth and you want to swallow but there's too much blood, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother harshly presses down on your throat. Both of your parents look from your neck to your face and you see something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $knifemc to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You don't care if they hate you. You're not going to hurt them, they're your parents after all. You don't want to give them the responsibility of having their daughter out of their lives.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You don't care if they hate you. You're not going to hurt them, they're your parents after all. You don't want to give them the responsibility of having their son out of their lives.<</if>> He quickly lunges for you but regretfully not quick enough. You thrust the knife forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of your epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You think you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with your own blood. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks the blade away from you, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one but a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. While your mother presses a stained cloth to your throat. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You feel blood in your mouth and you want to swallow but there's too much of it all, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother harshly presses down on your throat. Both of your parents look from your neck to your face and you something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $knifemc to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. He hurt mother, didn't he? But you aren't really doing this because of that. He'll hurt you. You have to hurt him first. <<set $shardd to true>> He quickly lunges for you but not quick enough. You thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of his epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You want to slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You want to go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your father. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the shard, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is sitting on the bed, a pained look on his face while your mother presses a stained cloth to his stomach. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your father groans after every breath and he falls back on the bed, still holding his stomach. Your mother looks from his fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on her face. It was disgust. [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. You don't know why you're doing this. You don't want to hurt your father. It'll make him believe that everything mother said is true. He quickly lunges for you and you can't help but thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of his epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You think you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those organs that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your father. Before you can push deeper your father grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the shard, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father she sitting on the bed, a pained look on his face while your move presses a stained cloth to his stomach. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your father groans after every breath and he falls back on the bed, still holding his stomach. Your mother looks from his fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on her face. It was disgust. <<set $shardd to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. She said so many horrible things about you. She thinks you're a monster. You could say you're doing this in self-defence but this isn't the truth. Let her believe everything she thinks is true. He quickly lunges for you and you side-step him and launch yourself at your mother. She doesn't have time to react before you thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of her epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You feel you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those bones that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your mother. Before you can push deeper your mother grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the shard, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your mother is sitting on the bed, a pained look on her face while your father presses a stained cloth to her side. He's yelling at Sally to call the ambulance. Your mother moans after every breath and she falls back on the bed, still holding her stomach. Your father looks from her fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on his face. It was fear. <<set $shardm to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father looks confused. Yes, she's been mean to you. You know she doesn't love you the way she loves Orla, Percy and Sally but she's your mother, you don't want to hurt her. He quickly lunges for you and against your desires you side-step him and launch yourself at your mother. She doesn't have time to react before you thrust the shard forward in a movement that's fast and perfectly precise. You feel the resistant barrier of her epidermis before slicing right through that and you want to keep going. You feel you'll slide it all the way in, deep into those bones that you saw in that horror movie you weren't supposed to watch with Nia. You'll go until it reaches the other end. Blood spills from the wound onto your hand, little ringlets running down your small soft arm, marring your skin. Tainting you with the blood of your mother. Before you can push deeper your mother grabs your hand painfully and yanks you away from the shard, pushing you down to smack your head hard against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one but a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Something clatters to the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your mother is sitting on the bed, a pained look on her face while your father presses a stained cloth to her side. He's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. Your mother moans after every breath and she falls back on the bed, still holding her stomach. Your father looks from her fallen form to you and you'll never forget that expression on his face. It was fear. <<set $shardm to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. It's not fair. You've done nothing wrong. Why is it that they hate you for things they've done? They're the ones who brought you into this world. It's funny how you can unsettle them, it's hilarious. You feel your smile go sharper if that's even possible. Deep into your muscles. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. They're pathetic, and this is all so amusing and ridiculous you feel like you're underwater. You feel blood in your ears and you want them cleaned out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. They might not love you but that doesn't mean you want to inflict on them the kind of pain they do to you. You aren't like them and the last thing you want to do is make trouble. You're grinning but this isn't funny. You feel your smile go sharper if that's even possible. Deep into your muscles. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You don't want them near you but you also crave their attention, how odd. You feel blood in your ears and you want them cleaned out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your mother cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in their eyes that you'll never forget. On your father it was fear, on your mother it was disgust. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. It's not fair. You've done nothing wrong. Why is it that they hate you for things they've done? They're the ones who brought you into this world. You want them to feel the anger they have for you reflected back at them through your animalistic expression. You bare even more teeth, if that's even possible. They grind against each other. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You hate them and your anger and your head hurts and you just want to close your eyes. You feel blood in your ears and you want them cleaned out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your father cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in his eyes that you'll never forget. It was fear. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> “Who are you talking to?” your father asks confused. They might not love you but that doesn't mean you want to inflict on them the kind of pain they do to you. You aren't like them and the last thing you want to do is make trouble. You're almost growling but you don't feel angry. You bare even more teeth, if that's even possible. They grind against each other. Your father comes up to you and grabs your shoulders. “What? What is it?” his fingernails dig deeply into your skin and he begins shaking you “what is it $name?! What's wrong with you?!“ he yells to your face. He's hurting you and you try to squirm out of his grasp but his hold is like steel chains. “Do you do these things on purpose? $name answer me!“ spits flies from his mouth as his cheeks flush and sweat accumulates on his forehead. He shakes you and shakes you, yelling at you to answer him and your shoulders hurt and your head hurts but you feel good that you have him like this. “Say something!“ he shakes too hard, too rough and you slip from his grasp, falling back and slamming your head against the hardwood floor. You feel a different ache this time. Not like //that// one. But a toothache type, the kind that makes you want to cry. Your vision blurs and the colour of the ceiling fades in and out. You hear vague commotion. Someone crouches near you on the ground and you make one last effort to lift your head up. It feels as heavy as a weight. Your vision swims so strongly you think you'll pass out but you hold on. Your parents are in double and it takes a few moments to see the scene clearly. Your father is leaning over you with a frantic expression, you could almost delude yourself into thinking he's crying. While your mother presses a stained cloth to your throat. She's yelling at Percy to call the ambulance. You don't want them near you but you also crave their attention, how odd. You feel blood in your ears and you want them out but there's too much of it rushing, you feel like you're underwater. Your father cradles your head. Both of your parents search all over your face and you see something in your father's eyes that you'll never forget. It was fear. <<set $mchead to true>> [[NEXT->Page 91]] </h3>

<h3> //September// You rub the back of your head. You hadn't thought of that day in so long. You feel the sting of your hand on her cheek as if it had happened only moments ago. These memories don't come because you look for them. They jump out at you, like a bogeyman and disorient you, like the feeling someone gets when they wake up from an afternoon nap. The man across from you lazily flips through pages of black text from the folder he brought in a few minutes ago. He has one of those handle-bar mustaches, big cheeks and his bald spots shine from the sweat of the overhead dangling ceiling light that does an awful job at providing visibility to this very small interrogation room. It's a formality they told you. They just want to ask you a few questions they said. Your eyes flick periodically to the clock mounted on the wall, it's six in the morning, and you've been here nearly all night since the police were called for that girl's body. You've been lowering your face to prevent your tired eyes from being assaulted by that horrid warm lightbulb. What a party. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“So Miss Crown you and your friends say you were outside, a fight broke out and Mr. Stark fell and found the body of the victim, is that right?” Detective Ringwald says in a nasally voice.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“So Mister Crown you and your friends say you were outside, a fight broke out and Mr. Stark fell and found the body of the victim, is that right?” Detective Ringwald says in a nasally voice.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 92]] </h3>

<h3>All four of you were brought in, without your guardians which Imre kept saying was illegal and Nia was struggling so hard she was almost handcuffed. Hours of the same questions. You actually didn't even know where the police station was since investigated crime is very minimal in this town and it's said by many residents that the police are here to stuff themselves full of the taxes with the mayor's blessing. Well, by the size of the station which is crammed between a coffee shop and a flower shop with its condition of dusty windows, cracked linoleum floors and mosquitoes dancing around any source of light you'd wager the tax money isn't going to the functionality of the building. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Miss Crown?” Dt. Ringwald asks impatiently.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mister Crown?” Dt. Ringwald asks impatiently.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Yes. As I've stated ten times before,” you say kindly.->Page 93A]] * [[“Yes. Like I've said about thirty times before,” you say in an annoyed huff.->Page 93B]] * [[“So what's the point in asking me the same questions over and over?” you ask.->Page 93C]] * [[“Yeah all that. Could you tell me more about the victim?”->Page 93D]] </h3>

<h3>“I hope my answers have helped you at all.” Dt. Ringwald shrugs, “they have established all of you have a clear timeline thought out.” He might believe that you're being overtly helpful so as to deceive him but truly you just want to aid the investigation in any way you can. Also, you hope he'll be open to sharing more information about the victim, that and let you leave. He keeps flipping through the pages you realize are about you. You catch a glimpse of your ninth-grade school yearbook picture. You remember smiling as widely as you could, it was your first high school picture and Nia had convinced you that you both needed to look nice. You wore something blue. You push that memory out of your mind, if you don't you'll get sucked into it for the next twenty minutes. You're very curious about the girl they found at the edge of your family's property. They brought you in here without telling you anything about her, how she died, if they have any theories on how she ended up by the manor nor how long she's been there for. You don't even know her name. You open your mouth to ask but Dt. Ringwald asks, “you just got back from a facility didn't you?” Your eyebrows draw together. He flips to a page and taps on it. It's your medical record. How did he get that? [[NEXT->Page 94]] </h3>

<h3> “Is there really any point to this or are you just that incompetent?” Dt. Ringwald shoots you a look, “kids are known to be liars.” You know that the more difficult you are the more he'll suspect you of something. You can't help it though, you've been asked the same questions for hours and the lack of sleep and the temperature of the room aren't helping. You just want him to let you leave. He keeps flipping through the pages you realize are about you. You catch a glimpse of your ninth-grade school yearbook picture. You remember smirking as sarcastically as you could, it was your first high school picture and Nia had convinced you that you both needed to look nice. You wore something black. You push that memory out of your mind, if you don't you'll get sucked into it for the next twenty minutes. You want to leave but you're also very curious about the girl they found at the edge of your family's property. They brought you in here without telling you anything about her, how she died, if they have any theories on how she ended up by the manor nor how long she's been there for. You don't even know her name. You open your mouth to ask but Dt. Ringwald asks, “you just got back from a facility didn't you?” You feel yourself scowl. He flips to a page and taps on it. It's your medical record. How the fuck did he get that? [[NEXT->Page 94]] </h3>

<h3>“I mean she was found by my house during my party.” Dt. Ringwald tsks, “you're the one being interrogated so I would suggest only speaking when asked.” You bristle at that. You don't like that the police seem not to want to tell you anything about the victim. You get that investigations are about keeping everything close to the chest but they have to eventually release her name publicly. You've been awake all night, but your curiosity has kept you from nodding off. He keeps flipping through the pages you realize are about you. You catch a glimpse of your ninth-grade school yearbook picture. You remember the neutral expression you gave, it was your first high school picture and Nia had convinced you that you both needed to look nice. You wore something gray. You push that memory out of your mind, if you don't you'll get sucked into it for the next twenty minutes. You hope they gave you something about the girl they found at the edge of your family's property. They brought you in here without telling you anything about her, how she died, if they have any theories on how she ended up by the manor nor how long she's been there for. You don't even know her name. You open your mouth to ask but Dt. Ringwald asks, “you just got back from a facility didn't you?” You cross your arms over your chest. He flips to a page and taps on it. It's your medical record. You have a feeling where this is going. [[NEXT->Page 94]] </h3>

<h3> He says it like it's a dirty word. Like instead of a hospital you just got released from maximum security prison for a heinous crime. He squints and reads slowly, “you were there for about two years?” he asks when clearly he's stating. “A little after your sister, Orla Crown, died right?” You feel a bit of pressure on your muscles. You have had bad experiences with people when they begin inquiring about your mental capacity. <hr>\ * [[☄ “I was. Does that have anything to do with this?”->Page 95A]] * [[☄ “Do you really need me to answer that?”->Page 95B]] * [[☽ You refuse to answer.->Page 95C]] </h3>

<h3>He quirks his eyebrow, “well you've been here for a few days. I don't think it's unfair to wonder if with your... issues you could have anything to do with this, don't you?” You feel a coldness pinch your heart. Of course. This was the logical theory they would come up with. It's not like you haven't been blamed for things others have done before. Everything from drawings on the classroom walls to who dropped an expensive plate at home. Doesn't make it hurt any less. “No, of course. It's just- well it's not great to be accused of something you didn't do,“ you say with an odd affect on your voice. The detective looks dispassionately at you and flips the folder closed. “People with your history are prone to be violent y'know? Just the other day a few towns over this guy killed his whole family, and said he was depressed,“ he relates the story as if he were telling an anecdote over lunch. Your stomach feels hollow and you know that it's no use in trying to debate something like this. People who think like this usually don't want you to change their opinion but to convince you of theirs. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“But don't worry Miss Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile as if you should be grateful to him. You feel nauseous.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“But don't worry Mister Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile as if you should be grateful to him. You feel nauseous.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 96]] </h3>

<h3> He massages the back of his neck, “of course I do. If you lied or didn't remember that would tell me that someone... like you could have done this, you understand don't you?” You feel a fire at the pit of your stomach like a hot black coal. For fuck's sake. It always comes back to this. Anytime anything ever happens the first person they look at is you because they think you're insane. All your life from whoever broke all the crayons in class to who walked indoors tracking mud at home. “Someone like me? Sorry it's hard to understand when people think you're crazy and so accuse you of murder,“ you say with a sharp edge to your voice. The detective looks bored at this whole conversation and flips the folder closed. “Lunacy is a disease y'know. Those mental hospitals are full of crazies who would throw shit at their mothers if they could that's why they're locked up,“ he says all this as if he were talking to a stupid child he wants to educate. Your veins burst with energy and all you want to do is pounce across the table and break his nose. But what's the point? People like the detective don't care to listen to whatever people like you have to say, you would be satisfying him by giving him what he wants. <<set $Worth += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“But don't worry Miss Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile like you should be thanking him. You want to kill him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“But don't worry Mister Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile like you should be thanking him. You want to kill him.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 96]] </h3>

<h3>He gives you an annoyed look, “answer me or not I still have all the information I need right here. People with your problems can't hide what you are, I hope you know that.” You feel your muscles tighten slightly but otherwise, you're calm, if a bit cautious. You expected this, you always do. After being accused of things over and over again it becomes normal. From the gums that were being stuck to the surfaces of desks in school to who's been picking at the expensive cupcakes for the fundraiser at home. “I do know that. I wasn't trying to hide anything. I just don't think it's worth my time trying to proclaim my innocence with a rap sheet like that,” you say with the most unaffected tone you can. <<set $Worthless += 1>> The detective doesn't even care to look at you and flips the folder closed. “You're quite right. Madness like that leaves a paper trail y'know? Yours is not as long as others I've seen in the past but that's probably because your daddy has cleaned up after you,“ he says this as if you weren't the person he was degrading. The tightness in your body lessens a fraction. He's just like the rest of his kind, it won't matter what you say or how you say it'll go in one ear and come out the other. It's better to just say nothing and let them think what they want. Maybe you should stop fighting it so much, perhaps there's some truth in what they say. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“But don't worry Miss Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile like you should smile back at him. You feel exhausted.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“But don't worry Mister Crown your brother told us you were at home this whole time. Otherwise, you would be questioned by more than just me,“ he says with a smile like you should smile back at him. You feel exhausted.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 96]] </h3>

<h3> The chair scrapes against the floor and he gets up, taking his jacket off the back of the chair and putting it on while saying, “I need to go see if there's anything else before I let you go.” You watch as he slips out of the room, closing the door with a loud bang. You think about what he said, that the reason they're letting you leave is because of what Sally told them. You don't know why that bothers you at first. You should be happy you have him to vouch for you, right? It must be a relief to know that in spite of all the changes that's still the same. But as you listen to the slow ticking of the clock you figure out why. It's incredible that even as a legal adult your word isn't taken seriously, that like always your big brother has to come into the rescue because he's more respected than you'll ever be. You're not enough but he is. You're not ready to think if you're angry at him, you or just the world. Your eyes flick to the folder. The detective left it. <hr>\ * [[You take it->Page 97A]] * [[You leave it->Page 97B]] </h3>

<h3> You slide your hand over and slide it back along with the folder. You flick it open and start going through your public life story told through medical records, legal records and school reports. Reports from more than ten doctors diagnosing you with various mental illnesses from depression to schizophrenia and everything in between and beyond, many of these reports contradict each other. None of them admitting they don't know what they're doing. Some of these doctors you don't even remember. Dr. Madorna is the last one of course. You move these reports aside. Then there are the charges of destruction of property, battery, assault causing bodily harm, vandalism and trespassing. You don't much remember these. Certain moments of your life are distorted as if looking through frosted glass. They're just words to you, you can't recall the memories that correspond to them. You don't really have an opinion of these. You push these away too. Your school reports aren't the most interesting. They're just grades throughout the years and comments your teachers have made with the worst saying: //$heshe is the devil incarnate// and the best: //$name was quiet and withdrawn but otherwise an easy student//. If they had gathered personal student testimonials you'd probably see meaner things. [[NEXT->Page 98]] </h3>

<h3> You decide better than to do something that could taint you further in the eyes of the detective and lean back in your chair with a sigh. It's not like you wouldn't know what would be in there anyway. You do have issues with recalling memories that might not be the most pleasant and even though that might not be the healthiest thing to do it prevents you from falling into rabbit holes of self-destruction which keeps you alive another day so you take all the chances you can to get a little relief. You already know your medical records are there, they probably chronicle all the types of illnesses you were labelled with which were a multitude; sometimes all at once. Then there's the legal record. Your rap sheet. It's longer than it should be for someone of such a family as yours. Mother and father have moved mountains every time you found yourself in trouble with the law, you were always let off from the destruction of property, the battery, the vandalism, and so on and so forth. They even had it sealed which doesn't mean anything when it's the police that need that information. Since you saw your high school picture they must also have some of the school activities as well. What could be said? You had okay grades, nothing to ever win you distinction. The choice words your teachers have had for you on the yearly reports, some being really hateful and others probably saying they don't even remember you that well. You can only imagine what would be said if they got student confessionals. [[NEXT->Page 98]] </h3>

<h3> You huff in intervals. You rub your eyes and try to make the steel chair more comfortable. You check the clock and somehow it's almost seven. Usually, nothing stops Sally and he would have gotten you out of here hours ago. However, a dead body is a serious crime. A dead body they haven't told you anything about. Maybe they don't think you're sane enough to tell information to, they're probably scared you'll go into a psychotic rage. You $habit to distract yourself from the thoughts and memories that are always waiting to invade your mind in moments of silence. You find that putting all your focus on something helps that. But your childhood habit is a very weak substitute. A thought jumps into the forefront of your mind about how Detective Ringwald mentioned //her//. Shaking your head you decide to think about the first thing that comes to your head... <hr>\ * [[Imre.->Page 99A]] * [[Nia.->Page 99B]] * [[Lorcan.->Page 99C]] </h3>

<h3> You were both driven here in the same police car. In the back of the cruiser, you were pushed near each other. His leg almost brushing against yours whenever the car turned. You could feel him looking at you often. His eyes would stay on you for minutes at a time and you expected him to talk but he never did. You had never been alone with Imre before. It's astonishing that knowing one another all your lives you had never actually been that close. You were both from the same social class, the Durans along with the Crowns, the Mirs were the first three established families in Croun. Your families had been interconnected for generations. Oddly enough there had never been intermarrying. <<set $Imrethought to true>> Imre was incredibly popular, as popular as your sister. He was known and liked by every person in town and you could see why. He was charming and he was pretty in a very old Hollywood way. Girls and boys would watch him when he walked down the halls. You knew that many people of your grade had gone on dates with him. He never had a serious girlfriend though. No one knew why. In the back of that cruiser, you were nearly assaulted by everything about him. His body heat making you sweat beneath your clothes, his cologne invading your nose and having your head swim with smells of leather and vanilla; just his sheer presence, knowing his dark blue eyes were on you made you feel like you were an ant under his microscope, a ray of sunlight cooking you alive. He was watching you and you kept yourself concentrated on the front of the car. At that moment you kept thinking of what he had said to you at the party. That he wanted to talk to you, that you were somehow someone he thought was interesting enough to engage in conversation. <hr>\ * [[♥️ You wanted to believe him.->Page 100A]] * [[♡ He was lying.->Page 100AA]] * [[You don't know what to make of him.->Page 100AAA]] </h3>

<h3> Her father had demanded that he be the one driving her to the station but Nia was irritated and didn't want to make things complicated so she slid in after you in the back of the police cruiser. She maintained her distance and kept her eyes on the scenery outside the windows. <<set $Niathought to true>> You had been best friends since you could remember, you had spent countless hours together and in that moment it felt like you were two unknowns forced to be in close proximity. You knew that The Mirs, along with the Durans had had close relations with the Crowns since the founding of the town, being the first three families to settle here and so your two families were expected to mingle. You never believed Nia became your friend for that reason but now you weren't so sure anymore. In truth, it didn't make sense that you two could be friends anyway. She hung out with the likes of Imre and your sister. Everyone was intimidated but equally fascinated by her. You had witnessed countless times boys and girls coming up to her trying to flirt and she would brush them off like annoying gnats. She would always look at you after she did this and give you a strange smile. If you didn't know you would think she was blushing. Even though she had made sure to be as far away from you as she could in the back of that cruiser you could steal //feel// her. She was imprinted on you like a birthmark and every muscle she moved you catalogued; you could smell her aroma seeping into your hair. She was everywhere like an airborne disease. You felt the need to shake her off and gather her close equally. She was looking away and you were looking at her. You knew she could feel your eyes on her. You thought of how she'd been with you all night. So unlike ever before, she couldn't seem to stand to look at you. You could only guess what emotion she felt in the brief moments she did. <hr>\ * [[♥️ Guilt.->Page 100B]] * [[♡ Disgust.->Page 100BB]] * [[Apprehension.->Page 100BBB]] </h3>

<h3> He had followed you when it was said that you all had to come in for questioning. He didn't say a word, didn't make a gesture and came in after you without so much as a scoff. You both had gone to the extreme ends of the backseat of the police cruiser and you both had immediately turned to the windows to prevent the other from starting a conversation, or in this case a fight. <<set $Lorcanthought to true>> Since he had dated your sister he spent a lot of your childhood around your house. The first few years you two had nothing more to say to each other but a passing greeting. If he hadn't been entangled with one of the members of your family you honestly would've never had any type of relationship. It was known that Lorcan's family was one of the poorest in town, as some people unkindly called them, the Starks were white trash. You've never thought this about him, even when he did begin hating you out of nowhere. You don't know when it began nor what started it but you knew that he didn't hate you because she did. His hate was something personal, something privately shared between only you two even if you weren't aware of what it was. She didn't like that, she and him had been dating for years, had never broken up and the fact that you and Lorcan had a relationship, even one built on hate caused problems. You didn't know this until very late. You and him had both tried to get away from each other but in the cruiser, you were so aware of him. You knew all the times he shifted in his seat. Your ears held onto all the little sighs coming from his mouth. His smoky tobacco smell hugged you as strong and as unyielding as a python. You were trapped by him and he wasn't even doing anything. You felt the warmth in his deadly embrace. For a second you chanced it and had discreetly glanced at him. You could see the edge of his irises and you thought of how those eyes looked as he taunted you and insulted you and lost his mind over someone who was long gone. If he hated you so much why did he insist on being so near? <hr>\ * [[♥️ Because of her.->Page 100C]] * [[♡ Because of you.->Page 100CC]] * [[Because he's sick.->Page 100CCC]] </h3>

<h3> You really do want to think that his honeyed words were true. That he wasn't spouting out reused lines he gave to whoever was around him out of habit. Why would he have any need to? Nia is friends with him. She once told you that Imre only says about five percent of what he means and that you should never take his words at face value. Of course, she doesn't trust anyone. Maybe Imre isn't as bad as that. He did come in between you and Lorcan and in his own way protected and defended you. There must be truth to that. It's odd. You've never spent that much time thinking about him. For some reason now, he... intrigues you. You don't why nor what prompted that but it's not the worst thing in the world to have him on your mind. But you do find it weird how he seems to be interested in you. You didn't think there was anything about you that could pique his interest. You also didn't know what nature that interest had. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> There's something about Imre that just doesn't birth confidence in you. Every word that comes out of his mouth seems to be in service of something he won't say. Which must benefit him so well. Nia has known him since forever. She always said that Imre was good at turning on the charm like a switch and how easy it was for him to become whomever he wanted someone to believe he was. You got the same feeling from when he talked to you. The fact that he came in as your knight in shining armour with Lorcan for no reason also raised your alarm bells. It's odd. You've never spent that much time thinking about him. For some reason now, he... bothers you. You don't understand why nor where it comes from and you wish you could push him out of your thoughts. Apart from your natural distrust towards him, you're also puzzled as to what he could want from you. You're not interesting, at least not like the people he commonly associates with and you have nothing to offer him. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> Maybe you're just seeing what you wanted to see but in the brief moments when you caught her eyes tonight, you thought you saw guilt. An unusual look on her. You're not a people person. You don't have friends. She was your only friend and even though you're not an expert at reading emotions you feel like if you knew anyone it's her. The Nia you know would feel bad that she ignored you for years, she loved you and you can't- You don't want to believe that just went away. All that time away she was one of the few people you thought of. But the way you think of her now is... different. Or maybe it's always been there in the words you never could say to her because you didn't understand what it was and you still don't. Maybe, in time you'll learn how to speak that language. There are so many questions you want to ask her. You might be willing to let bygones be bygones if she just showed you she cared to speak to you or at the very least hear what you have to say. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> What was it that had changed? What could have possibly been the shift in her mind towards you? You could see it clear as day, she couldn't stand to even look at you. Maybe what you most dreaded had finally come to pass. You always viewed the fact that Nia could ever want to be friends with someone like you as a miracle. She was the popular one, she had no shortage of friends but she chose you. But maybe you had just been blind, maybe she just used you to satiate some morbid curiosity as that could explain why all these years she had never once entertained the idea of inviting you to be with her other friends. Even if that's not the truth, now that you've thought it it's invading your mind. You're used to having Nia there but the way you look at her now is different. It's not only the friendship that hurts but something else... something that's been there for you for years that you never wanted to acknowledge because feelings are too confusing. Part of you doesn't want to have that confrontation that you feel is on the horizon because it's one thing to believe something and another to have it confirmed. But you also know there are things you're itching to say to her. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> She was his whole world wasn't she? You had never seen someone so in love with someone else and from lack of her, you were one of the closest things even if what he felt for you was completely polar opposite. Hatred was a strange thing. It pushed two people together even if all they wanted was to be apart. Lorcan had always been clear on what he felt for you and how he viewed you. But both of you had been so connected to her that you both knew without words that only you two could ever truly understand that obsession with her. How, even dead she had so much hold over you. The thing that... unsettled you was how he now seemed to be sticking himself into your mind in a way he hadn't been before. Hate is the instinct to care about something that repulses you. A care that doesn't come from kindness but the need to destroy. This connection that seems much more intense than before maybe because she's no longer in the way to block you from each other. Both of you are hurtling to an abyss and maybe it's the right of the things that you either fall over together or finally stop trying to push the other over. The risk almost makes it exciting. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> You knew that the hate Lorcan felt for you was consuming. More consuming than the love he could ever say he felt for her. It's strange how that works. How hate can be more powerful than love. Some hate is at a distance, maybe a glare there, an eye roll here but other hate is as passionate as a romance. Maybe that's one thing she hated you for. All the times you fought you remember how //alive// he became as if waking from a long slumber. You were the scourge of his existence and thus as strong as the pull of the sun. What kind of...irritated you was that you didn't care if he felt this obsessive hate for you but you did care that you felt it for him. You didn't want to waste a thought on him and yet you couldn't help yourself. Hate was like a plague that alighted every nerve in your body and molded you two into one singular being of spite. You couldn't breathe at times with how much hate you felt. It will end one day, you've always known there would be a final battle between you and you'd be lying if you didn't say you didn't anticipate with every part of you and you knew him well enough that he felt the same. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> He gently puts his arms around you and not being used to this level of affection you leave your arms limp by your side rather awkwardly. You can't help but want it to end even if it comes from your brother who adores you. He finally lets you go and places a hand on your cheek “let's go home.” With an arm around your shoulders, he escorts you from the room, down the short and poorly lit hall towards the lobby with its sleepy-eyed clerk at the front desk, its black plastic chairs in disarray against the walls, its yellow flickering light and its dirt white walls plastered with an array of posters detailing public services, fundraisers, events and an astonishing amount of missing persons posters. You pause as you try to see the pictures. Sally stops with you and looks at the wall too. Some posters go back decades, the pictures having been hand-drawn instead of photographed. All girls, none older than twenty. All of them smiling at the viewer. A wall of lost slyphs. The dates of disappearances at first are far apart between posters, usually only one per year but from at the very least last year that number has spiked with nine girls missing. “It hasn't been the best in this town since you've been gone“ your brother says. “Sally, why haven't people been talking about this? It goes back at least more than fifty years“ you ask incredulously. He grimaces “people in this town are... well they keep to themselves“ he says that as if it's a good enough explanation. You want to ask more but your brother tries to usher you out the door <<if $nickname>>“come $nickname neither of us has slept all night“<<elseif not $nickname>> “come $name neither of us has slept all night <</if>>. [[NEXT->Page 102]] </h3>

<h3> You give him a tired smile and say “hi.” He replicates your smile and says “hi.” Your family isn't used to physical affection and so the best Sally can offer you is this and you don't begrudge him. He moves aside to make room for you at the door and with a gesture he says “let's go home.” With a light hand on your arm, he guides you from the room, down the short and poorly lit hall towards the lobby with its sleepy-eyed clerk at the front desk, its black plastic chairs in disarray against the walls, its yellow flickering light and its dirt white walls plastered with an array of posters detailing public services, fundraisers, events and an astonishing amount of missing persons posters. You pause as you try to see the pictures. Sally stops with you and looks at the wall too. Some posters go back decades, the pictures having been hand-drawn instead of photographed. All girls, none older than twenty. All of them smiling at the viewer. A wall of lost slyphs. The dates of disappearances at first are far apart between posters, usually only one per year but from at least last year that number has spiked with nine girls missing. “It hasn't been the best in this town since you've been gone“ your brother says. “Umm ok, Sally why the fuck hasn't anyone said anything? The oldest poster here is from fifty years ago“ you ask shocked. He grimaces “people in this town are... well they keep to themselves“ he says that as if it's a good enough explanation. You want to ask more but your brother tries to usher you out the door <<if $nickname>>“come $nickname neither of us has slept all night“<<elseif not $nickname>> “come $name neither of us has slept all night“ <</if>>. [[NEXT->Page 102]] </h3>

<h3> It's not like its a dire situation anyway, there's no need to make a scene and the fact that you're running on no sleep but the brief moments you closed your eyes in between interviews doesn't give you incentive to be more sociable. He beams at you and with a sweeping motion says “let's go home.” With a hand on your shoulder, he has you follow him from the room, down the short and poorly lit hall towards the lobby with its sleepy-eyed clerk at the front desk, its black plastic chairs in disarray against the walls, its yellow flickering light and its dirt white walls plastered with an array of posters detailing public services, fundraisers, events and an astonishing amount of missing persons posters. You pause as you try to see the pictures. Sally stops with you and looks at the wall too. Some posters go back decades, the pictures having been hand-drawn instead of photographed. All girls, none older than twenty. All of them smiling at the viewer. A wall of lost slyphs. The dates of disappearances at first are far apart between posters, usually only one per year but from at least last year that number has spiked with nine girls missing. “It hasn't been the best in this town since you've been gone“ your brother says. “Yeah, I can clearly see that. Why has nothing been done to bring awareness to this Sally? It has been going for five decades“ you ask dumbfounded. He grimaces “people in this town are... well they keep to themselves“ he says that as if it's a good enough explanation. You want to ask more but your brother tries to usher you out the door <<if $nickname>>“come $nickname neither of us has slept all night“<<elseif not $nickname>> “come $name neither of us has slept all night“<</if>>. [[NEXT->Page 102]] </h3>

<h3> Before either of you can move someone comes out from the hallway into the lobby with a sigh. <<if $Imrethought>>Imre with a hand in his trousers, his blazer thrown over his shoulders and an energetic look in his eyes in spite of the lack of sleep greets the clerk and then noticing you're there swaggers lazily to your side. “$name, Sal,“ he says in a mellow tone.<<elseif $Niathought>>Nia with her arms wrapped around herself, looks around nonchalantly while rubbing her hands down her arms and following a yawn she notices you but her eyes quickly flash to your brother as she nods in acknowledgment, “Sally, is my father outside?”<<elseif $Lorcanthought>>Lorcan running a hand through his already tousled blond hair looks from the posters to you and back before seemingly deciding something and walking over to you, “Salvatore do you know if they're gonna keep bothering us?” he says with a sleepy tone.<</if>> <<if $Imrethought >>Sally stretches out his hand and Imre shakes it. Seeing them together reminds you how similar they are although Imre feels like he's much more comfortable with his place in the world. “Imre, I hope they didn't bother you too much. In cases like this the police can be cumbersome,“ your brother says.<<elseif $Niathought >>Sally gestures a thumb over his shoulder, “yes he's been keeping me company while we waited for both of you.” Nia nods and actually offers him a small smile, these two have always gotten along well enough.<<elseif $Lorcanthought>>Sally sighs, “I really don't know. With the number of disappearances lately they've been taken this very seriously,“ and Lorcan hums in response. These two have never been anything but cordial to each other, a little bit cold but fine.<</if>> <<if $Imrethought >>Imre glances at you and says, “I'm sorry your welcome home didn't end as pleasantly as it started. I do hope you can still see the value of this town in spite of all this,“ he waves his hand at the wall. He says it as if it were a mild inconvenience and not the fact that tens of girls are missing and most likely dead.<<elseif $Niathought >>She once again seems to be doing her best to not look at you and instead looks at the wall, “instead of wasting their time asking the same stupid questions they should actually be out there doing real police work,“ she says with no real passion in her words.<<elseif $Lorcanthought >>Lorcan, without taking his eyes off you says, “no surprise there, people's daughters are missing but if I were them I would trust a lunatic to find them over any cops.” He says this clearly aiming to offend you.<</if>> <<if $Imrethought >>“Do you know anything about this?” you gesture to the wall. “That is if you care,“ you say neutrally.<<elseif $Niathought >>“Does anyone have any idea what could've happened to them?” you motion to the wall. “Do you?” you ask.<<elseif $Lorcanthought >>“This lunatic actually could try to do something, more than you ever done for anyone that wasn't yourself,“ you say defensively.<</if>> <<if $Imrethought>>He moves his tongue around his cheek and stares at the posters, “of course I care. You just grow desensitized after seeing it in the papers all the time. And to answer you, no I don't know anything about this, I wish I did it could help many grieving families,“ he says and looks to you with a placid smile that reminds you of a politician. He brings his wristwatch to his face and squints “well I should get going or else I waste the whole day sleeping,“ he nods to Sally and then to you adding a wink for good measure before stalking out as if he owned the very air around him.<<elseif $Niathought>>She slightly grimaces as if the mere sound of your voice directed at her gets under her skin and says, “it's really getting dangerous for us women in this shit-hole your <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>sister should take care<<elseif $spronouns is 'he'>>brothers and you are lucky<</if>>, my father is looking to give me a gun,“ her words being directed solely at your brother completely going out of her way to ignore you in such a natural manner it would seem she's never spoken to you before. She offers him a quick smile and saunters away as if she had no care in the world.<<elseif $Lorcanthought>>Lorcan exhales, if you were someone else he might've even laughed as if between friends, “I'd pay good money to see you trapezing around town like a little demented mini Sherlock $name it would really make my fucking year watching that shit-show. Just save it for another day when I'm not so tired,“ he shoots you a mocking smile and stalks out of the building satisfied that he won this round.<</if>> “Well,” Sally says, “your peers are really... special.” He then guides you out the glass doors and as you walk through the door frame you quickly turn your head to glance once more at the wall before it's obscured from view. [[NEXT->Page 103]] </h3>

<h3>“It just seems a bit reductive to waste your time with me, detective.” Dt. Ringwald chuckles, “I don't need investigating tips from a rich kid.” You weren't trying to butt in. But you just think it seems like they aren't exactly doing their job. Someone was found dead and the police seem more focused on trying to rehash teenage drama instead of looking at things that matter. If you weren't so tired you might even offer to help. He keeps flipping through the pages you realize are about you. You catch a glimpse of your ninth-grade school yearbook picture. You remember giving a close-lipped smile, it was your first high school picture and Nia had convinced you that you both needed to look nice. You wore something purple. You push that memory out of your mind, if you don't you'll get sucked into it for the next twenty minutes. In spite of your heavy eyelids, you have wondered about the girl they found at the edge of your family's property. They brought you in here without telling you anything about her, how she died, if they have any theories on how she ended up by the manor nor how long she's been there for. You don't even know her name. You open your mouth to ask but Dt. Ringwald asks, “you just got back from a facility didn't you?” You raise your eyebrows in surprise. He flips to a page and taps on it. It's your medical record. Why does he have that? [[NEXT->Page 94]] </h3>

<h3> <center>❖</center> You lean your head against the leather headrest of the car, mindlessly watching the scenery of trees blurring past the window in one of the many cars your family still has, this being a yellow Pontiac from the 70s. Sally decided to take the forest route home which in turn takes longer and to add to that he drives very slowly despite lack of speed signs so it gives ample time for conversation which your brother loves having with you. “I'm sorry the night ended so horribly. I could've never imagined that girl would be there, as if the fight between your friends wasn't enough bad luck,“ he says apologetically. You shake your head, “they aren't my friends.” “But Nia is?” he asks instead of stating since he's probably wondering why he hasn't seen you two have an actual conversation all night. You make a noncommittal noise. Sally is a fixer. He'll probably suggest inviting Nia over and setting up a whole heart-to-heart that although earnest will lose its potency due to how manufactured it will be. The warm air from the heater threatens to lull you to sleep. It's technically still summer but Croun's weather is mostly always the same. A tad bit chilly most mornings. It works like a small dose of medicine to get the townies used to the unbearable coldness of winter. You can feel Sally's gaze on you and you know he wants to dig deeper into whatever seems to be going on with you or with your so-called 'friends' or how you feel being back here after two years away. Or about //her//. She's a topic he's never asked you about. It doesn't seem prudent to talk about any of that when you don't have the mental capacity to bear it. So instead you think about that thought you had at the station. How Sally is very important if the police didn't want to tell you anything maybe he will. <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?” ->Page 104A]] * [[“Do they know how she died?” ->Page 104B]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?” ->Page 104C]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?” ->Page 104D]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?” ->Page 104E]] * [[“Did you know her?” ->Page 104F]] * [[But you say nothing ->Page 105][$notalk to true]] </h3>

<h3> Sally looks away and for a brief second you see something flash in his eyes but it quickly disappears. “I would've thought Detective Ringwald would've informed you,“ he says calmly. “He didn't which is why I'm asking you. Unless she was too disfigured to identify her,“ you reply.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He shudders slightly and reaches to turn up the heat, “are you sure you want to be talking about this now? It's a bit too early to start discussing dead bodies.” Maybe it's one of those things that separates you from other people but you've never understood the discomfort people have with the dead. It's a natural process that everyone will go through. It's especially important if said death happened on the familial premises discovered by you and others. “This one is important, Sally,“ you emphasize. Your brother taps his thumbs against the steering wheel and inhales, “ok,“ he says, “apparently her name is Stephanie Burrows. She's kind of the daughter of Mr. Wisteria.” That name sounds familiar. You think on it for a second. He was at the party, wasn't he? Yes. He's from one of the 'important' families. “Why 'kind of'?” you ask. “She's actually his cousin, her family died when she was very young and Mr. Wisteria took her in, raised her up as his own with his children,“ he responds. You try to think if you knew her. But your mind comes up blank. You didn't interact with many people anyway. <hr>\ * [[“Do they know how she died?”->Page 104B]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?”->Page 104C]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?”->Page 104D]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?”->Page 104E]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 104F]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> “It was too dark to see the body and when the police came they moved us away, I only saw the stretcher,“ you say. Sally rubs his cheek and then moves that hand to rub his mouth. You really never would describe your brother as queasy. He's always been very collected, always the one who held things together when they threatened to break apart like your family has for so long. But right now he seems unbalanced. “Um, she was- well you see-“ he abruptly stops and swallows thickly. He's never looked so sick. By the pinched expression on his face it looks like he's minutes from vomiting. You raise your eyebrows. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He huffs out a long breath and says, “they found her partially nude and mostly consumed.” He ends that last word curtly, not being able to fully pronounce it. That intense word floats up between you two in a car far too small to contain it. Lorcan had said something to that effect. That there wasn't much of her left. You $habit and pause before speaking, “was it an animal? Was her face eaten? Or was it there and that's how they found out it was her? What was missing the bottom half? The top half? Limbs?” Sally almost dry heaves “Jesus $name!“ he puts a hand to his mouth and breathes in and out. You shrug, “it's a logical line of inquiry.” Sally shakes his head quickly, “ok we're not talking about body eating at eight in the morning.” “So are you saying we can talk about body eating later?” “No.” “But-“ “NO.” <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?”->Page 104A]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?”->Page 104C]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?”->Page 104D]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?”->Page 104E]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 104F]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> “So many missing people for a town so small. It's strange, don't you think?” you ask. Sally's eyebrows draw together and he seems almost...hesitant to say anything. This isn't exactly new. Sally has the habit of trying to keep information from you since your childhood. You think it's an attempt to shield you from things he thinks might inconvenience you. It took you a few years to realize that's what he was doing but you've never thought about how you felt about it. “Well... it isn't entirely unexpected. This town is a bit strange itself, right? We're so used to it because we grew up here,“ he says with a chuckle that sounds a bit too hollow. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He's right. It's not a secret that this town is weird. The weirdness doesn't usually impede daily life so no one really pays attention to it. Some believe in otherwordly elements and try to get actual evidence, Nia once told you Imre liked to do that. Some believe that all of it is old world superstitions which shows how behind Croun is from the rest of the world like Nia. Others just ignore it because they care much more about their own personal things like Lorcan. “But those things don't really hurt anyone. I mean sometimes they do like whatever happens to the pets that are let out of the house and are never seen again but people? Usually people don't get killed here,“ you say with concern. Your brother's eyes flick to yours quickly, “usually allows for a margin of cases that contradict that,“ he says quietly. That makes your next line of questioning into this very specific aspect of the overall topic die on your lips. Yeah, there's contradictions. <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?”->Page 104A]] * [[“Do they know how she died?”->Page 104B]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?”->Page 104D]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?”->Page 104E]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 104F]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> “Done?” Sally asks puzzled. You quirk an eyebrow, “yeaaaahhhh, has the municipality done anything to protect any of the girls in town since they seem to be the only targets.” Sally seems to think for a moment “come to think of it, no, they haven't done anything.”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You look forward surprised. It's true that crime in the town isn't rampant and that the police force is seen as there for decoration but if people's children are being taken and if a girl is now dead there logically should be changes. Curfews, tips like walking home in groups and the sale of self-defence weapons, at least from the few movie nights you had at the hospital that's what they usually do in small towns when there's missing teens and murders. “Has anyone talked to the mayor about this?” Sally blows air out of his nose, “the mayor doesn't really do much of anything these days. You'll have more luck getting the governor.” Now that you think about it Mayor Duran doesn't really do much of anything. He hasn't in a very long time. He doesn't even go to social events as evidenced by the apologies Imre gave on his father's behalf last night. He's also been Mayor for longer than you can remember. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“In lieu of anything officially being done and you being a girl I want you to take precautions, never venture out to the woods late at night alone and instead of walking anywhere if possible have one of us drive you,” he says in a serious tone.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Even though only women are being taken I still think you should practice caution and so please try to be with someone always when you're out of the house whether it be one of your friends, me, Percy or even Arthur,“ he says in a serious tone.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?”->Page 104A]] * [[“Do they know how she died?”->Page 104B]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?”->Page 104C]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?”->Page 104E]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 104F]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> By the way you were treated by Detective Ringwald you wouldn't be remiss to say that you were a suspect for a brief moment when the police arrived and before your interrogation, until your brother vouched for you. But if you, who had only recently arrived in town were their suspect it must mean they don't have much to go on.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> <<if $nickname>>Sally blinks and says, “I don't know $nickname, contrary to what you seem to believe I don't know everything. I'm just a civilian.”<<elseif not $nickname>>Sally blinks and says, “I don't know $name, contrary to what you seem to believe I don't know everything. I'm just a civilian.”<</if>> He doesn't say this unkindly. He's never spoken to you in a tone that wasn't gentle but you can tell he doesn't want you to keep asking him questions. He must be caught off guard that you of all people would be talking about this. The matter of the fact is that you've always seemed divorced from the world, the goings-on of the exterior world never interested you as much as the interior workings of your own personal world that didn't go further than a few steps ahead of you. Of course that was before you knew someone who died. And now at your own party someone was found dead. It's hard to crawl back into the little covey in yourself that you've always lived in purposefully. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Sally pokes you and you find him looking at you with soft eyes, “you don't have to worry about strangers, sister, I'm sure it's just a hungry animal that will either leave or be caught soon enough.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Sally pokes you and you find him looking at you with soft eyes, “you don't have to worry about strangers, brother, I'm sure it's just a hungry animal that will either leave or be caught soon enough.”<</if>> You don't mention how the fact that the number of missing has shot up in the last year means that this animal — if it's an animal — doesn't seem to be wanting to leave soon nor does anyone seem to be in a hurry to catch it. <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?”->Page 104A]] * [[“Do they know how she died?”->Page 104B]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?”->Page 104C]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?”->Page 104D]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 104F]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> Sally doesn't answer. “Sally?” you ask. “Hmm?” he asks. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “I asked if you knew her.” “Oh,“ he says absentmindedly and shakes his head as a way of not only denial but also to clear his mind from whatever had distracted him. “No, the first time I ever heard of her was when the police had told me that she was the body they found. She didn't come to many social events,“ he says flatly. You look out the window and think about that girl. It's so strange how someone can come into your life after their death but that you never crossed paths in life. She's become an event, a pinpoint in the timeline of your life and you don't even know the sound of her voice, her dreams, her smile, her memories. But someone must have known her, the town really isn't that big after all, maybe her family could tell you more about her. That is if you're truly that interested in her. “She's in a better place now,“ Sally says gently. Your eyes widen slightly. “Didn't know you were religious.” Sally grins, “just a fraction. Don't tell Percy though or I'll never hear the end of that.” You hadn't even thought about that. Where that girl goes after she dies, where others that died young go to as well. You wonder if Heaven and Hell exist, where did //she// go? Do all sins get forgiven at the end? Would she repent? You shake your head, there's no point in going down that path. <hr>\ * [[“Did they tell you anything about the girl they found?”->Page 104A]] * [[“Do they know how she died?”->Page 104B]] * [[“What's been going on with all these missing people?”->Page 104C]] * [[“Is anything being done to protect potential victims?”->Page 104D]] * [[“Do they have any suspects?”->Page 104E]] * [[You have no more questions.->Page 105]] </h3>

<h3> Sally sighs. “I'm sorry if I couldn't help you as much as you thought. On one hand, I'm happy you seem to be taking interest in things but on the other I wish it were things that other kids your age worry about like school, friends, music,“ he says emphatically. Normalcy. That's what everyone wants from you. You've made half-hearted attempts before to please your family. You don't know what it means to be 'normal.' It's not because you think you're special but rather because your way of being is normal to you. You've never known any other way of being. People find you strange they say, they say they look into your eyes and see nothing reflected back at them as if you were one of those one-way windows, you can observe but no one can penetrate you. All this and you haven't done anything. Well...not that you can remember. To be fair you've been told these things in moments where you're just minding your own business so apparently in your natural state you bother people. You don't really know how to take that nor how to change it. But you do know if you pile all of this on your brother he'll worry too much. And he'll try to keep you from the world because he doesn't know any other way. That's one thing he got from your mother and father. <hr>\ * [[“I know brother, I'm trying.”->Page 106A]] * [[“I don't know if I can be who you want me to be.”->Page 106B]] * [[You say nothing.->Page 106C]] </h3>

<h3> You say that with as much muster as you can manage and your brother beams at you like you've gifted him a miracle. He lays a hand on your leg and squeezes. “I know you are, we just need to move on from things, it does no good to dwell on the past,“ he advises. Your family motto should be something like that, it's a natural talent that most of you have. Likely genetic. Or it's from the town itself. Whether or not you agree after the questions you've thrown his way it's better to just let things lie. So you tell him what he wants to hear as per custom, “you're right.” You try to return his smile and then lean your head against the window, the cold from outside spreading through your face by contact. Then the sleep that's been threatening to overtake you finally does and without warning you fall into a deep slumber sometime before you reach the manor. [[NEXT->Page 107]] </h3>

<h3> You say that without much emotion because it isn't really something you're looking to convince him of but rather a fact and because you've had this conversation before. He lays his hand atop yours and says slowly as if he were talking to someone he thinks doesn't understand, “I know if you try hard enough you can rise to the occasion, you're much more capable and determined than you give yourself credit for.” This ability to have hope regardless of everything pointing to the contrary is very Sally. Most of the family is more capable of giving up quickly, especially on people, especially on family. Try as he might, all of you have always had too little faith in each other. Even though you know he won't give up you still fetter out exhausted, “you have a better chance of seeing world hunger end.” Sally laughs and shakes his head lovingly at you. You turn away from him and press your face against the window, the cold from the outside seeping under your skin. Then the sleep that's been threatening to overtake you finally does and without warning you fall into a deep slumber sometime before you reach the manor. [[NEXT->Page 107]] </h3>

<h3> What could you say? You've heard this all before, you know what your brother wishes for you and you know whether you can accomplish it or not. He places his hand on your head and massages it lightly, “I know it's all overwhelming but I promise you that soon enough your life will be even better than your friends. You'll see a whole new world.” He has always talked this way. As if he's trying to prophesize by sheer desire alone that you will live an extraordinary life. He's thought more about your future than anyone has, the rest of your family probably thought you'd live at home in that room forever and you kind of do too. You don't know whether to believe him or not and for lack of a better response you just nod your head. Sally gives your hand a nice little shake and lets go. You settle your cheek against the window, the cold from outside cooling your warm face. Then the sleep that's been threatening to overtake you finally does and without warning you fall into a deep slumber sometime before you reach the manor. [[NEXT->Page 107]] </h3>

<h3> //JULY 1992 You wait, your breath in your throat as you hear her slowly opening the door. The old hinges creak painfully into the darkened house and you wonder if with that noise you two aren't the only ones awake. You can hear her tiny feet lean heavily on the hardwood floors as she takes three steps to cross the hallway. Your eyes move slowly to the side, not daring to move your whole body because she could hear you. If you have such good sound of her movements she must have them of yours. Usually, the thin slit under your door is opaque. The manor being in the woods with these kinds of trees prevents moonlight from ever really seeping through. But this night is different. This night the moon shines so bright it hurt your eyes when you stood hours ago by the window at the side of the house. The moon's rays seemed primed to expose everything and thus in the light of the night, you could see the dark mass of feet standing in the middle of the door. She didn't move. She stood there for what felt like so long. Why wasn't she doing anything? Was she waiting to see if you were asleep? Did she need you to be asleep for whatever she had planned? Your sister had never made an attempt to knock on your door late at night to talk. Nor did she like you at all, nor did you trust her so if she has anything planned you don't expect it to be good for you. Suddenly you heard a sound. It was low and it was muffled by the heavy door and it sounded off. It sounded like the squeak of a dying rat in the spider-webbed corners of a wall covered by a couch in a damp cellar. You couldn't place what it was because you had never heard it before. It was crying. Painful crying. The crying of someone who wanted to stifle it as much as they could in the quiet of the house. It was the type of agony that burrows deep and takes root and has been growing gnarled and brittle for so long. The crying stops promptly. There's silence again and then the hard, loud, echoing knock of the door like a gavel sentencing the sinner to death.// //[[NEXT->Page 108]]// </h3>

<h3>You awake with a start. Your hand rubs rapidly up and down your chest. Your laboured breaths escape quickly and forever into the air from your open and dry mouth. You wipe your drenched forehead and half sit up. You can feel the pulse of your heart in your ears and your mouth feels sickly warm. You press your eyes closed and try to close your mouth, and instead breathe deeply through your nose, trying to get oxygen to your lungs. You swallow a thick lump of nightmare from your throat and you swear you could almost feel it going down your esophagus and landing on the top of the pile in your stomach. A pile not too high. <<audio "crowny" loop play>> You look around and realize you're in your room. Squinting at the small clock on your nightstand you see that you spent all the day sleeping, it's late afternoon. From your bed, you can see the beginnings of the sweet pink and soft orange at the edges that will take over the usual color of the sky for sunset. You rub your eyes roughly trying to soothe down your swollen eyeballs. You try and catch the memory of that dream before it disappears forever. But it's already slipped from your mind. Your doctor had tried to get you to write a sleep journal but it didn't work if in the time it takes you to calm down you've lost any piece ― however fragmentary — of the dream. You've heard that sometimes people's brains purposefully forget something as a way for the brain to protect its sanity. Maybe your brain is protecting you from yourself, which would be a welcome change from it assaulting you. You get an impulse then. You knew you would want to. Under your bed. It's there, almost taunting. <hr>\ * [[You bite the bullet.->Page 109]] * [[You resist.->Page 109A]] </h3>

<h3> Counting to three you quickly reach down and move your arm around trying to feel for it. For a moment panic seizes you at the thought that maybe someone found it and took it. You had left it for so long. But your finger finally grazes the hardwood and you slide it out from under your bed. You lift it up and place it on your lap. You move your fingers along the top, tracing the carved relief that decorates the top of the box made from dark walnut. You found this box one day in the attic where all your family's belongings are kept, everything from the past generations stored away to accumulate dust and be ravaged by moths. The picture is of <<cycle '$carving' autoselect>><<option 'a mountain range.'>><<option 'the moon and the stars.'>><<option 'a tempest in the sea.'>><</cycle>>You don't know who it belonged to but you found it near the things belonging to the part of the family that lived here in the 1910s. You move your hands all over it, feeling the soft wood, caressing it as if it were a live animal that needed soothing. You gingerly lift the lid and look inside. Everything's still there as you left it. That doesn't mean no one has touched it but at the very least if they did they didn't take anything. After a full day's rest and with the soft gentle light of a setting day bathing your room in oranges and pinks it doesn't feel so daunting now. You wonder what you should look at first. <hr>\ * [[The knickknacks.->Page 110]] * [[The pictures.->Page 110B]] * [[The writings.->Page 110C]] * [[The newspaper clipping.->Page 110D]] </h3>

<h3> You rub your hands and clasp them together. It's better not to dwell on the past as your family believes. The whole point of being sent away and being allowed to leave is that you're trusted enough to not go back down the destructive path you were on two years ago. For that to happen you have to stop yourself from doing things and thinking about things that will cause you harm. But old habits are so difficult to release. You can picture everything you have there under your bed. Your mind goes immediately to that newspaper clipping you keep tacked on the bottom of the lid of your box. You can envision yourself ripping it off and unfurling it. You had read it more than a hundred times in those weeks after she died and before you were sent away. You can already see the words of the first paragraph forming behind your eyelids. ''Yesterday morning the body of 19-year-old Orla Crown, the daughter of Victor Crown and descendant of the town founder Josiah Croun was found mutilated, caught on a fish net in the town lake by a local fisherman. Miss Crown, voted spring queen of 1990 was last seen the night prior by her family members in the manor.'' You open your eyes and think about a specific detail you had never really thought of when reading that text. Her body was mutilated. Did anyone ever say how? Your father didn't allow any of you to see the body and the funeral was half open casket, her face being the only thing visible. You think about the dead girl. There wasn't much left of her. Could there be something there? Two girls found dead, their bodies tampered with and then add to that all these disappearances with other girls. Could your sister be included in that, of missing girls being the rare one that was found? Well, now you're playing detective. For all you know the girls that were never found might've just left town, be runaways or not be the victims of the same thing.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You do need to be careful though since you're a girl too. And if that wasn't enough, given how little you spend time with people you'd be an easy target.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You aren't really at risk for this because you're not a girl but you can't say it doesn't make you feel any better.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Before you can go further with your theories you hear a slight knock at your door. “Miss Crown? I've been sent to tell you it's time for dinner“ the maid says meekly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Before you can go further with your theories you hear a slight knock at your door. “Mister Crown? I've been sent to tell you it's time for dinner“ the maid says meekly.<</if>> You sigh and push your covers off. Your mind moving away this topic to the corner for a bit and focusing on what you're going to eat for dinner and what annoyances will Percy contrive to do tonight. [[NEXT->Page 111]] </h3>

<h3> You've picked up things throughout the years. One of the psychiatrists at the time told you to take a box and put in all your favourite things. You struggled at first because you don't really have things you like. You do things like watch films, TV, read, and listen to music but you wouldn't call those things your favourites, there are rather things you do to pass the time. And you decided to pick up things that looked interesting. You finger the smooth black rock you found at the shore of the lake when you were seven. Percy had thrown it at you and what you liked about it was how smooth it was and how inky the colour was. You touch the small little rag doll you found in the park in middle school. Sally had taken you but it had gotten too cold and so both of you sat on the bench waiting for Arthur to come pick you up. It had been left by someone, a little doll with small, brown eyes, red hair and a green dress. Then you pick a game called //Backgammon// that you got from Nia's Atari when she went through her gamer phase. You liked the colour of the game picture and it reminds you of all those nights for months you spent watching Nia playing for hours. A little glittery yellow star that Imre put on your test in sixth grade after he marked it because he sat behind you. You kept it because it was one of the only times someone marked your schoolwork and praised it. You fiddle with a small plastic bracelet you stole from Lorcan when you were in eighth grade. You had wanted to get back at him because that week he was being particularly annoying and so you took this bracelet that he had on him all the time. Your mother's diamond earring, she had lost the other one and just threw this one in her jewelry box and you had liked how shiny it was. Your father's silver cuff links shaped like dice that have dulled with time. Artifacts of a short and unremarkable life. <hr>\ * [[The pictures.->Page 110B]] * [[The writings.->Page 110C]] * [[The newspaper clipping.->Page 110D]] </h3>

<h3> You don't have many. Who knows what your mother did with the school pictures you brought home and your family wasn't the type to take a lot of pictures apart from the official family portraits hung in the foyer and the parlour room. You have some polariods thanks to Nia when she was in another one of her phases — well it's more accurate to say she was only interested in something just to be the best — and she had managed to convince you to sit for a few. In one you're sitting on a fallen log in the forest, it's been raining and you're drenched but you still manage to give the best tired smile you can. The next one is of Nia and you with your arms around each other in front of the town fair, the bright lights almost concealing both your faces. Both of you with your tongues sticking out. She had gotten Percy to take the picture by offering to buy him a candy apple. You find one of you sitting in between your brothers on the front porch of the house. You're all sitting on the ledge, your arms are crossed, Sally is pointing jovially at the camera and Percy is sticking up his middle finger. Nia said she thought all three of you should update the last picture you took together when you were all under the age of 10. It went without saying that when she said 'you' she only meant the three of you. The rest are just miscellaneous shots, one of the only blue skies Croun ever had, a leaf there, a trampled flower here and some random shots of some town residents. Photos are so odd to you. They feel so present, maybe if you stare at one long enough you can go back to that time. It might've been hard in some areas but your life made more sense than it does now. Crying over spilled milk. <hr>\ * [[The knickknacks.->Page 110]] * [[The writings.->Page 110C]] * [[The newspaper clipping.->Page 110D]] </h3>

<h3>All kinds of doctors examined you, prodded you, tried to figure out a solution. You went through so many types of treatments and exercises all to be done at home with an aim to sort out your feelings they said. //'To heal'// was another one they frequently used. One little trick that lasted longer was the writing. You would wake up, go through your day and write your feelings after anything happened. Whatever it was that came to you at the moment without thinking too much about it, just letting the pencil move with a mind of its own. You open a small little lined square and read what you wrote on February 29th 1988: //I had scrambled eggs for breakfast. It makes me feel fine. I think the cook puts too much salt in it, it's really salty. Sally told me it's a leap day, whatever that means. Maybe it has to do with frogs.// The musings of a 13-year-old. You wrote this December 17th 1985: //It's my birthday today. It's snowing a lot so we can't go out like Sally said we would. He says he can play board games. It makes me feel ok. I don't understand birthdays.// You remember that birthday specifically because your sister 'accidentally' dropped the cake. June 5th 1992: //She's been going out. Late at night I hear her creeping down the hallway and because I don't hear the grand creaking of the double doors at the front she must be going out the back through the kitchen. She's always back before I wake up. Probably going to see her awful boyfriend. It makes me feel nothing, it just wakes me up.// You pause and bring the paper closer to your face. You don't remember writing this. You don't even remember your sister going out the weeks before her death nor keeping track. You look through more of these small snippets to see if you can find more but there's no other mention of her. <hr>\ * [[The knickknacks.->Page 110]] * [[The pictures.->Page 110B]] * [[The newspaper clipping.->Page 110D]] </h3>

<h3> It's tacked on with tape on the bottom of the lid. You pull it and quickly unfurl it, moving the box aside you place the newspaper on your lap and smooth it down. For weeks after your sister's death you read this story, over and over again for no reason apart from a need to keep the details fresh in your mind. You don't remember much of the time between her death and when your parents sent you away but this. You hold the top to prevent it from curling in and read the fading words that were on the front page of the Daily Croun on July 18th 1992. A huge dulled picture takes up half the page and it shows the coroner lifting up a stretcher with a white sheet covering a body into a van. You read the same words you had read obsessively years before: ''Yesterday morning the body of 19-year-old Orla Crown, the daughter of Victor Crown and descendant of the town founder Josiah Croun was found mutilated, caught on a fish net in the town lake by a local fisherman. Miss Crown, voted spring queen of 1990 was last seen the night prior by her family members in the manor.'' You keep that word 'mutilated' at the forefront of your thoughts as you keep reading. ''The family has issued a statement declaring: //We are saddened by the loss of our sweet Orla. A beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her and it's an injustice that it has been cut short. We thank the police for their work, the coroner's office for their diligence and all our kind neighbors in town who have sent their condolences. All we would like now is to grieve our beloved daughter and sister and urge other parents to take care of their children, accidents can happen when we least expect it. Thank you.//'' Your eyebrows knit together as you take in those two words: mutilation and accidents. Mutilation implies a ravaging, a physical bodily harm that is deliberate, how can that be an accident? You sit back against your headboard and purse your lips. Now that you think about it... no one ever again mentioned the details of your sister's death. Not in this house. If any of you grieved it was hidden away from the eyes of the others. No discussion on what happened to her, no mention of the state of her body and now you recall that she had a half-casket funeral, her body obscured. You think about the dead girl. There wasn't much left of her. Could there be something there? Two girls found dead, their bodies tampered with and then add to that all these disappearances with other girls. Could your sister be included in that, of missing girls being the rare one that was found? Well, now you're playing detective. For all you know the girls that were never found might've just left town, be runaways or not be the victims of the same thing. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You do need to be careful though since you're a girl too. And if that wasn't enough, given how little you spend time with people you'd be an easy target.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You aren't really at risk for this because you're not a girl but you can't say it doesn't make you feel any better.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Before you can go further with your theories you hear a slight knock at your door. “Miss Crown? I've been sent to tell you it's time for dinner“ the maid says meekly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Before you can go further with your theories you hear a slight knock at your door. “Mister Crown? I've been sent to tell you it's time for dinner“ the maid says meekly.<</if>> You sigh and push your covers off. Your mind moving away this topic to the corner for a bit and focusing on what you're going to eat for dinner and what annoyances will Percy contrive to do tonight. [[NEXT->Page 111]] </h3>

<h3> <center>❖</center> The next few days before school begins you spend in wandering like you always did around the house, not really doing much. You pulled down the small stairs on the ceiling on the second floor to go up the attic that has accumulated far more dust than you thought possible. You spend time going through mountains of boxes that your mother commanded the help to order by date a few years back. The oldest section is from the 1860s and it is very scarce. A few dresses that have been eaten by moths, a picture of your ancestor Josiah sitting in a chair with his wife, son and daughters all standing around him. You look at the man who started your family line, trying to see if any physical characteristics managed to survive generations. You think you and your siblings all inherited his nose. You walk around the house inside and out, going in circles and running your hands all the walls. You catch the servants peeking in at you at different points, probably ordered by Sally to keep an eye on you while he's at work. He leaves early every day, always comes into your room before to check on you and then doesn't come back until dinnertime quite tired. You don't see your father at all. You hear one of the cars coming in late every night but he's gone before you wake up, Sally is the only one he speaks to apparently nowadays. You hear your mother through the thin walls, moving around her room, the maids leave a tray of food outside her door three times a day and sometimes she opens it to grab it and sometimes she doesn't. You would see her more if she didn't have a private bathroom in her room. Percy comes and goes like the wind. No one knows where but he's always back for all the meals, he eats quickly as if he wants to be out fast but not before shooting a mildly insulting joke your way. Honestly it isn't that bad the meals you two eat alone together, you barely talk. [[NEXT->Page 112]] </h3>

<h3>The days drag on while simultaneously flying by. At the hospital, there were times when you would be locked in one of the padded room,s for days on end for an infraction that you don't even think you did. After the fun went out of throwing yourself against the surfaces you would sit down and stare at a wall for hours, watching the sun rays slowly move along the white fabric. Sometimes you thought you could see the light trying to speak to you in code, sometimes you had convinced yourself you had telekinesis and this one time John Lennon came to give you a rendition of 'Imagine' in acoustic. You couldn't clap because of the straitjacket. Those were the good times. To prevent that same habit of shutting down and staring at the wall due to boredom you had developed a system. A hobby. One of the only few good pieces of advice Dr. Madorna had ever given you was that you had to keep your mind occupied because it's when it's idle that the problems begin. You had never had a hobby before. You didn't really know why people did them nor what they were expecting to achieve in the long run and so only when you needed to distract your brain from your thoughts and to your hands instead did you finally begin one. <hr>\ * [[You made paper flowers.->Page 113A]] * [[You exercised.->Page 113B]] * [[You read and wrote.->Page 113C]] * [[You drew.->Page 113D]] * [[You wrote down words.->Page 113E]] </h3>

<h3> At first they were just crumpled little messes that resembled upside-down mushrooms on stems. But since you had a lot of time to kill you would go on for hours and hours. You would keep going as the tips of your fingers ached and your hands cramped; you would go well into the night. <<set $hobby to 'flowers'>> You didn't stop to think about what you would do with the ever-growing pile in the middle of your room at the hospital, your mind was singularly focused. You were reprimanded many times for the mess but as a pile was thrown into the garbage you would immediately start a new one. And so after walking the house and its surroundings, after eating and with only the silence of the manor to keep you company you would sit down on the floor of your room and make flowers. Carnations meant fascination, peonies were happiness, lilies were purity and roses were passion. You sat there for hours just working and you gave specific instructions to the servants that you didn't want the pile cleared until the next morning. If they looked at you strangely probably thinking the hospital didn't help you at all and you came back crazier than before that was none of your concern. This kept darker thoughts at bay. It gave you a sense of calm even if not exactly happiness. And before you knew it it was Monday. It was the start of senior year. The real debut of $name Crown into town society, more accurately teen society. [[NEXT->Page 114]] </h3>

<h3> You weren't athletic. You had never done things like track, basketball, swimming and anything else people did in school. Then to make matters worse you had been stuck in a very sedentary place where large equipment was not allowed for fear the patients might hurt themselves or the others. <<set $hobby to 'exercise'>> But in the times when you threw yourself against the walls of the padded room,, you did get a mild entertainment out of it. Of course, the whole point of a hobby was not self-destruction but self-growth. At least that's what it said on paper. So you began working with what you had. And so after walking the house and its surroundings, after eating and with only the silence of the manor to keep you company you would run in place, you would do sit-ups, planks, push-ups, lunges, jumping-jacks and whatever else you came up with. You would go long after your body was screaming at you to stop. Which was a form of self-destruction in itself but it made you exhausted enough not to struggle to sleep. The servants could probably hear you through the floor and most likely thought you were doing some psycho things that the mentally ill do but they left you alone. This kept darker thoughts at bay. It gave you a sense of calm even if not exactly happiness. And before you knew it it was Monday. It was the start of senior year. The real debut of $name Crown into town society more accurately teen society. [[NEXT->Page 114]] </h3>

<h3> You had been a reader before the hospital if only for something to do since your parents didn't have a t.v. in the house. You barely paid attention to the words you ran through of the books stacked in piles around your room. You would forget the plot pretty soon after you finished the book. <<set $hobby to 'book'>> But life was so slow at the hospital. Every minute felt like ten and as you daydreamed about being somewhere else, about freedom, you got to thinking that the next best thing was living vicariously through others. That place had a pitiful collection of books on the shelf that passed for a library but you began making your way through the selection. And so after walking the house and its surroundings, after eating and with only the silence of the manor to keep you company, you would grab any book from anywhere in the house because Sally also read and had a habit of leaving books everywhere. You would walk around the house reading the book in your hands. You would read until your eyes blurred and the headache was too much. You would have a pen with you and underline lines and analysis sentences, you would fully immerse yourself into that imaginary world. Because of your constant walking around you often collided with the servants while they were doing their daily tasks. But they didn't say anything probably thinking your ability to reason was long gone. This kept darker thoughts at bay. It gave you a sense of calm even if not exactly happiness. And before you knew it it was Monday. It was the start of senior year. The real debut of $name Crown into town society more accurately teen society. [[NEXT->Page 114]] </h3>

<h3> You had never thought of yourself capable of producing art. You came from a family that valued appearance, class and conduct more so than a skill they deemed frivolous. Your mother also had a negative view of artists calling them insane and so never allowed you to draw. It didn't begin consciously. During therapy, you would just start moving your pen around and soon enough you were drawing things that actually looked like something. At first, the drawings were very elementary. They were ugly and a piss-poor imitation of the real-life thing. But you kept at it. Even as your hand ached from holding the pen so tight you kept going. Over time you switched to charcoal since they wouldn't allow you pens out of therapy.<<set $hobby to 'draw'>> And so after walking the house and its surroundings, after eating and with only the silence of the manor to keep you company, you would find something, anything whether it be pretty or mundane and sit down cross-legged to draw it. Your back would be pushing you to sit up straight but you wouldn't move until you were done. You had improved so much since you had begun and you would painstakingly spend most of your time redoing the smallest details until you got it right. The servants would step over you, go around you and generally just treat you like they had collectively decided to let you wallow in your madness. This kept darker thoughts at bay. It gave you a sense of calm even if not exactly happiness. And before you knew it it was Monday. It was the start of senior year. The real debut of $name Crown into town society more accurately teen society. [[NEXT->Page 114]] </h3>

<h3> You had never stopped writing the entries you had in your box under your bed. The practice didn't do any harm and it was a habit that had been constant for over half a decade. However, you modified it to work more efficiently and instead of describing what you felt in reaction to an event in the present you thought it better to randomly pick a word in the dictionary and use it in a sentence about your life. <<set $hobby to 'write'>> It began because you would randomly read the names of the books Dr. Madorna kept in her office and you found you didn't know many of the words and that this in turn meant you needed to expand your vocabulary because they'd never taken you seriously if you talked like a child. And so after walking the house and its surroundings, after eating and with only the silence of the manor to keep you company you go to your father's study and look for the dictionary he kept. You would randomly flip to a page and blindly point to a word with your eyes closed. //Orotund// meant loud and clear and you used that to write that your brother Sally spoke loud and clear. The majority of all the sentences you had ever written were never directly about you but of the things you observed about the people who impacted your life daily. You would talk out loud repeating the new word to remember it and even though the servants gave each other looks no one said anything. This kept darker thoughts at bay. It gave you a sense of calm even if not exactly happiness. And before you knew it it was Monday. It was the start of senior year. The real debut of $name Crown into town society more accurately teen society. [[NEXT->Page 114]] </h3>

<h3> Your alarm rang at 6:30 and after turning it off you rolled over and went back to sleep. That was your intention at least before Sally came in with a loud, “good morning!“ and went to the windows to push the curtains aside and let the gray of the day in. “Come on sleepyhead you don't want to miss the first day of school,“ he said gently and shook you until you did what he said. Sally apologized for not being able to take you to school since he leaves earlier but that Arthur would take you. He left you with a reminder to dress well, brush your teeth, eat enough breakfast to last you until lunch, money for said lunch and to have a good day. He kissed your head and you were left to go through your clothes. You never paid attention to what you wore. To you clothes were just layers to prevent people from paying more attention to you than you wanted and protect you from the chilliness of Croun's constant weather. You didn't care that much if what you wore was unflattering in size or colour. You would always watch your sister at school wearing the most prettiest flowy dresses meant for a cottage fairy than someone with her personality and you didn't understand why she cared so much. But she was gone. She wouldn't make fun of you if you decided to try something and maybe Sally might be right. Its senior year, you were isolated from the world for a long time and it could be nice to have a physical manifestation of change if not a mental one. Even if you're unbothered by sameness it doesn't mean it's the worst thing to change. You throw some of your clothes from the dresser onto your bed and bring down some boxes from the attic that dated to a much closer time period. You're sure some of these clothes were your father's and his late sister's. Fortunately most of the attic clothes are still intact and your father and aunt didn't go through hippie phases. You compile a set of outfits and styles, none too egregious or extravagant because this isn't a makeover. It's just a slight cleanup. //Note: choices that go against gender norms will not be noted as of yet.// <hr>\ * [[Pick through feminine styles.->Page 115A]] * [[Pick through masculine styles.->Page 115B]] </h3>

<h3> You haven't been keeping up with the trends and so have no idea what's in this year but from the people you've seen in passing lately and a basic idea of what was in style two years ago you feel like you can make a good effort. At least you won't look ridiculous. You have retained some tips from the conversations your mother and sister had. You pick... <hr>\ * [[A white t-shirt with a black mid-length spaghetti strap button-up dress, tights and boots.->Page 116]] * [[A graphic shirt with a flannel, white-washed ripped jeans and converse.->Page 116]] * [[A crop top with an oversized corduroy jacket, plaid trousers and Oxfords.->Page 116]] * [[A blue long sleeve turtleneck shirt with a white skirt, tights and below-the-knee boots.->Page 116]] * [[A gray sweater with denim shorts and closed-toe leather sandals.->Page 116]] * [[A long black button up dress that is open at the thighs with long sleeves that end in flares and Mary Jane's .->Page 116]] * [[An oversized beige linen long button up shirt with a leather jacket, high-rise black pants and tennis shoes.->Page 116]] </h3>

<h3> You haven't been keeping up with the trends and so have no idea what's in this year but from the people you've seen in passing lately and a basic idea of what was in style two years ago you feel like you can make a good effort. At least you won't look ridiculous. You recall the brief mentions of clothing your brothers have expressed interest in. You pick... <hr>\ * [[A band t-shirt with a green cardigan, ripped denim jeans and black converse.->Page 116]] * [[A white short-sleeved button up shirt with a studded leather jacket, black pants and boots.->Page 116]] * [[An oversized striped sweater with blue jeans and patches, and running shoes.->Page 116]] * [[A green flannel with black cargo shorts, leg warmers and boots.->Page 116]] * [[A graphic design sleeveless t-shirt with gray trousers and skater shoes.->Page 116]] * [[A black unbuttoned vest with a green shirt, baggy pants and white tennis shoes.->Page 116]] * [[A green utility jacket with a white t-shirt, rolled up pants and Oxfords.->Page 116]] </h3>

<h3> You look at your ensemble in the mirror, turning to the sides, turning away from it and looking over the shoulder. It looks fine. You still look like you but it actually looks like you made some effort. You move closer to the mirror and peer at your face. Nothing fixing those deep impressions beneath your eyes nor your eyes themselves that you've been told — tactfully and not — look lifeless. You look at your scar, the one on your $scar. You have so many scars that are all in different severity, depths and lengths. Your most recent acquisitions are the two nearly faded burn marks on your temples from the shock therapy. However, this one is the worst of all. The events surrounding this scar are fuzzy, you don't know how it happened but you do know you got it sometime around the summer of '92. You run your hands down your head and adjust yourself a bit before going to do everything else you need to do.<<audio "crowny" stop>> You hastily go through the rest of your hygiene practices when you notice you have about half an hour before eight o'clock. As you make your way down the hall towards the stairs you hear ruffling coming from behind the door of your father's study. Someone is in there and it can't be Sally. You twist the handle and push open the door. Stepping in the room you see the top of Percy's hair peeking out from behind the surface of the grand desk. By the rustling, you can tell he's looking through the drawers. In all the days that you've been here, he has never woken up this early. You usually beat him to it and he never goes anywhere but his room and the dining room. You're not dumb, it's very obvious what he's doing. <hr>\ * [[“What are you looking for?”->Page 117A]] * [[“Stealing from pop? What are you, sixteen?”->Page 117B]] * [[“If you're trying to take something you should be sneakier.”->Page 117C]] * [[You stare at him and knock twice on the door.->Page 117D]] </h3>

<h3> Percy jerks and hits something, groaning with an, “ow.” He rubs the top of his forehead and tilts his head up to look over the desk curiously. When he sees it's you, his facial features turn downwards, completely unbothered. He goes back to looking through the desk. You don't think he'll answer so you take a few steps further into the study. “Just some papers that belong to me,“ your older brother says lowly. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “why would father have anything of yours in his study? Important papers are with mother.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little sister with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little brother with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<</if>> You roll your lips and think for a second before walking over to the side of the desk and peering down at him. Percy groans as he begins to put back in the drawer all the scattered papers on the floor. “You can be rude all you want be clearly you're looking for something,” you say tonelessly. Percy throws his hands up dramatically, raising his voice, “why must I suffer so, god almighty?” he pauses in that position and then lets his arms fall, “why do you ''care''? Don't you have an AA meeting to attend to?” You click your tongue and say, “AA is for alcoholics. If you want to be more accurate you should've said a pejorative referring to a psychiatrist.” He grimaces at you and shoves the rest of the papers back in the drawer, slamming it shut. [[NEXT->Page 118]] </h3>

<h3 Percy jerks and hits something, groaning with a, “fuck.” He rubs the top of his forehead and tilts his head up to look over the desk curiously. When he sees it's you, his facial features turn downwards, completely unbothered. He goes back to looking through the desk. You don't think he'll answer so you move closer, making sure your footsteps are loud. “First of all what are you? Mother Teresa? And second of all you are never too old to be stealing from your parents,“ he says contently. You laugh mockingly and cup your chin, “you'll probably be saying that well into your 30s still living in this house.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little sister with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little brother with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<</if>> You tsk and you don't think twice before walking over to the side of the desk and grinning down at him. Percy groans as he begins to put back in the drawer all the scattered papers on the floor. “So how much are you stealing this time? Is it in cash or are you looking to pawn,” you tease. Percy throws his hands up dramatically, raising his voice, “why must I suffer so, god almighty?” he pauses in that position and then lets his arms fall “why do you ''care''? Don't you have an AA meeting to attend to?” You snort disdainfully and say, “AA is for alcoholics. Your losing your touch for prickness big brother. “ He shoots you the finger and shoves the rest of the papers back in the drawer, slamming it shut. [[NEXT->Page 118]] </h3>

<h3> Percy jerks and hits something, groaning with an, “oh god.” He rubs the top of his forehead and tilts his head up to look over the desk curiously. When he sees it's you, his facial features turn downwards, completely unbothered. He goes back to looking through the desk. You don't think he'll answer so you move closer, trying to not step on the loudest floorboards. “Who are you, Peter O'Toole? I can do my heists on my own thanks,” he says sarcastically. You snort and put on your hands on your hips, “who's Peter O'Toole?” “I meant Simon Dermott.” <<set $PercyBond += 1>> “Who's Simon Dermott?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little sister with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little brother with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<</if>> You purse your lips and calmly walk over to the side of the desk and regard this scene. Percy groans as he begins to put back in the drawer all the scattered papers on the floor. “I am trying to help you, y'now? If you're going to rob the family do it right,” you say half-serious. Percy throws his hands up dramatically, raising his voice, “why must I suffer so, god almighty?” he pauses in that position and then lets his arms fall, “why do you ''care''? Don't you have an AA meeting to attend to?” You press your tongue to your cheek and say, “AA is for alcoholics. Not only do you need my help in thievery but also comedy. “ He scowls and shoves the rest of the papers back in the drawer, slamming it shut. [[NEXT->Page 118]] </h3>

<h3> Percy jerks and hits something, groaning with an, “shitty shit-fuck.” He rubs the top of his forehead and tilts his head up to look over the desk curiously. When he sees it's you, his facial features turn downwards, completely unbothered. He goes back to looking through the desk. Since your knocking didn't deter him you move closer, not aiming to reprimand so you walk calmly. “Has anyone ever told you that creepy silent act makes you appear mentally challenged?” he says with a chuckle. You roll your eyes and clasp your hands in front you, “I'm confused. Do you want me to lecture you?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little sister with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy exhales annoyed and looks up over the desk again, “could you pretty please fuck off little brother with a bright red juicy shiny cherry on top,” he says not asking.<</if>> You roll your lips and hum while walking over to the side of the desk and scrutinizing your brother's actions. Percy groans as he begins to put back in the drawer all the scattered papers on the floor. “It goes without saying that whatever you're thinking of doing is a bad idea,” you say seriously. Percy throws his hands up dramatically, raising his voice, “why must I suffer so, god almighty?” he pauses in that position and then lets his arms fall “why do you ''care''? Don't you have an AA meeting to attend to?” You huff and say, “AA is for alcoholics. And given your lack of good judgment you could benefit from sitting in one of those. “ He begins to snicker but coughs violently instead and shoves the rest of the papers back in the drawer, slamming it shut. [[NEXT->Page 118]] </h3>

<h3> He stands up and pretends to dust himself off. He then shoves you aside and goes to the shelves of books behind you. “Ok. Fine. If your nosy ass must know I'm looking for dear papa's checkbook,“ he says cheerily. You lean against the desk and watch as he takes out book after book, flipping through them and sticking his hand in shelves. “He hides it from me but its always been in his study,“ he says as he angrily tries to force a book he took out, back in between two others. “You must be taking too much now for him to overlook it,“ you say hugging your belly as the shelf strains under the pressure your brother is attacking it with. “Fuck-“ he grunts and starts elbowing the book in, “it really isn't even that much, it's just the old man is just a fucking-“ the book finally slides in and Percy braces against the shelves breathing heavily “penny pincher,“ he says and turns around to look at you. You nearly forgot about the fight you had interrupted between your brothers the other day at breakfast, “there's money trouble?” you ask. Percy scoffs and rubs his collarbone as he moves to the other side of the room towards a cabinet your father has by the veiled window. “Are you blind? Of-fucking-course there's money problems. Just look at the state of this house,“ he gesticulates with one arm as the other is pulling on drawers. The dust everywhere, the peeling wallpaper, the stains of mold at the corners of the ceilings, and there's fewer cars now and the ones that are still here have seen better days. Now that you think about it there's even less staff. [[NEXT->Page 119]] </h3>

<h3> Sally had spent a lot of the time at 'your' party chatting up the important businessmen who hung around your father when you were growing up. You hadn't been paying much attention, you had been too preoccupied with trying to leave. “How long has it been this bad?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy gives out a frustrated sigh and slams the drawers shut, he walks towards you and raises his palms up, “who knows little sister,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, “the old man doesn't tell anyone anything... anyone but our big brother who also doesn't tell anyone anything but it's always been kind of shit in the past few years right?” he forms it like a question but he's stating a fact.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy gives out a frustrated sigh and slams the drawers shut, he walks towards you and raises his palms up, “who knows little brother,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, “the old man doesn't tell anyone anything... anyone but our big brother who also doesn't tell anyone anything but it's always been kind of shit in the past few years right?” he forms it like a question but he's stating a fact.<</if>> He's right. Your parents weren't the most attentive in your childhood and so apart from any medical reason they didn't waste much money on their kids and that distracted you from seeing that at a certain point in the past your father started sewing his fraying suits and mother stopped ordering clothes from the catalogue. “Yeah it was bad but never this bad Percy. We've had the same food for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past three days and it all tasted as if it came from a can,” you say incredulously. Percy shrugs, “you shouldn't have come back then crazypants you would've been better off in the long run, our sister got off easy.” You don't say anything to that. [[NEXT->Page 120]] </h3>

<h3> The ticking clock on the desk reminds you what you were doing before this conversation. You stand up straight. “I have to go to school,” you say. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy reaches into his pocket and holds up his keys, “I'll take you sister.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy reaches into his pocket and holds up his keys, “I'll take you brother.”<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”->Page 121A]] * [[“Yeah, that's not gonna happen.”->Page 121B]] * [[“Why?”->Page 121C]] </h3>

<h3>“Either way I'll be late but if your driving, not that late.” Your brother raises his eyebrows for a second. “What?” you ask. He moves his tongue behind his lips before answering in a mocking tone, “I thought you would make more of a fuss since I'm not your dear sweet Sally who will literally lay down on a puddle and have you step on him to keep your precious self from dirtying your little delicate feet.” You exhale from your nose, “it's not like that.” You two walk out of the room, Percy makes sure to locket it like it was before, from a key he probably stole from your brother. As you walk down the stairs, Percy behind you he says, “please, Salvatore would light himself on fire to keep you warm.” <<set $PercyBond += 1>> You almost smile at that, “you don't have to feel bad he cares for you too“ you try to reassure him. You hear Percy snort derisively, “not to that level. He acts like he carried you for nine months and pushed you out.” Sally can go a bit overboard with the amount of care he has for you. It's like he was trying to make up for the lack of affection you grew up with, he tried for all three of you. “If you let him maybe he could do that for you,“ you suggest in a small voice. Percy doesn't answer and you push open the front door. [[NEXT->Page 122]] </h3>

<h3>“You drive like a goddamn maniac. I want to get to school alive not in three pieces.” Your brother rolls his eyes, “look it's late at least with me you'll get there as first bell rings and not fifteen minutes into first period like with Arthur.” You keep your feet planted and he huffs before grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, “hey I get it I'm not your dear sweet Sally who will literally lay down on a puddle and have you step on him to keep your precious self from dirtying your little delicate feet but I'm the next best thing crazypants.” Pushing you out of the room, Percy makes sure to locket it like it was before, from a key he probably stole from your brother. “It's not like that you prick,“ you say scowling. He grabs your wrist again and takes you down the stairs, “please, Salvatore would light himself on fire to keep you warm.” You shove him with one hand and he almost slips down the stairs. You smile at that. He clutches the railing and looks over his shoulder to give a dirty look. “Jealous?” you tease. You hear Percy snort derisively, “as if. That adoration he feels for you is borderline cultish if you ask me.” He's not entirely wrong. Sally can go a bit overboard with the amount of care he has for you. It's like he was trying to make up for the lack of affection you grew up with, he tried for all three of you. “Being insane, //I// at least have that you, can't even get a girl to call you,“ you tease. Percy doesn't answer and you push open the front door. [[NEXT->Page 122]] </h3>

<h3>“Since when do you care about my education?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Your brother pouts, “it actually hurts me that you think so horribly about me sweet sister,” he clutches his heart dramatically.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Your brother pouts, “it actually hurts me that you think so horribly about me sweet brother,” he clutches his heart dramatically.<</if>> He places a hand on your back and lightly shoves you in front of him. “Of course, we can't all be your dear sweet Sally who will literally lay down on a puddle and have you step on him to keep your precious self from dirtying your little delicate feet but I'm the next best thing crazypants.” Percy makes sure to lock the room like it was before, from a key he probably stole from your brother. “You know there's a difference between adoration absolute and rash rudeness,“ you sigh. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>With his fingers pressing in between your shoulder blades he casually forces you down the stairs, ”love that alliteration little sister they touch you English in the looney bin? Anyway at least you don't deny that he goes overboard with you.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>With his fingers pressing in between your shoulder blades he casually forces you down the stairs, “love that alliteration little brother they touch you English in the looney bin? Anyway at least you don't deny that he goes overboard with you.”<</if>> “I'm not //that// blind Percy but it feels better to be loved than to be hated in my eyes,“ you say. Percy chuckles, “that's what lack of parental love does to you then huh?” You try to ignore that. Obviously, you've talked about this in therapy, obviously Sally's treatment of you has been a big influence on your life and obviously it has a lot to do with your parents. You ask, “and what did it do to you big brother?” Percy doesn't answer and you push open the front door. [[NEXT->Page 122]] </h3>

<h3> Both of you walk down the porch and see Arthur diligently leaning on the hood of the car, presumably waiting for you. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Mister Crown and Miss Crown,” he greets you with a lift of his cap.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mister Crowns,” he greets you with a lift of his cap.<</if>> Percy gives him a quick smile, “Arthur old sport! Don't worry you don't have to sacrifice yourself by taking this one,” he points at with you with his thumb, “to school I got you covered.” Arthur's smile slips for a second but then returns and he says, “yes of course Mister Percy. Will you want to take this car?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy shakes his head, ”nope, no offence old sport but even I'm not that evil to take my sister go to school in that piece of shit it's setting her up for more bullying than she probably already gets.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy shakes his head, “nope, no offence old sport but even I'm not that evil to take my brother to school in that piece of shit it's setting him up for more bullying than he probably already gets.”<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>If Arthur's offended in any way he doesn't show it and merely tips his hat again, “well then I'll leave you to it, have a nice first day Miss Crown,” he says to you kindly and passes you to go into the house.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>If Arthur's offended in any way he doesn't show it and merely tips his hat again, “well then I'll leave you to it, have a nice first day Mister Crown,” he says to you kindly and passes you to go into the house.<</if>> You follow Percy to where your family parks most of the cars which is a barren open area near the house. Percy slides into the car and turns it on and you quickly follow thinking he's enough of an asshole to lock the door on you and make you beg to get in. Once you're in he lowers down the top and pulls out before you can get your seatbelt on properly. Out of all the cars your family owns his is the most impressive. His pride and joy a '87 dark green Mustang that he keeps in such good care that it looks brand new. Father gave him a black eye when he found out he had stolen his money to get it. The wind flies through your hair, making it dance wildly as your brother speeds down the dirt path. [[NEXT->Page 123]] </h3>

<h3>Despite the fact that Percy drives like he's being chased by the cops at all times, he's skilled and you barely feel the swift turn he makes at the end of the path to the long paved road that leads into town proper. Percy turns a knob and a song by one of those British boy bands starts playing. It's actually quite peaceful. It's a warmer day, the air feels nice on your skin and the vibrant colours of the leaves make for a nice view in a very nice car. Percy actually isn't the worst when he isn't talking. “Sooooo,“ the problem is when he starts. “Like really how was it?” he asks. You click your tongue. “You're still that curious about the mental hospital?” He shrugs and moves a lock of hair covering his eye, “c'mon it sounds very //Shock Corridor// if you ask me. And before you ask that's a movie.” You sigh, you're not that much in a hurry to speak. He could use whatever you say to make neverending cracks about and it's not like you relish retelling things that you have a hard time remembering anyway. Of course, you could get something out of it. People seem not to want to help you so you could take matters into your own hands. <<if $notalk>>\ Although, you had a chance to ask Sally and you didn't. Why would you be thinking of this now? <<else>>\ If you answer his questions he might answer yours. Sally wasn't much help but Percy doesn't care to spare you from any details you couldn't handle. <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[“Ok, I guess I could help you and you could help me.”->Page 124]] * [[“Say, let's play a game.”->Page 124A]] * [[Refuse him.|Page 124B]] </h3>

<h3>He looks you up and down “meaning?” You smile pleasantly. “Meaning that you answer my questions and I'll answer yours.” He looks straight ahead and contemplates for a second before shrugging, “fine, no I haven't had a threesome but not because I didn't want to.” “What?” your eyes open wide like saucers. He looks at you and then looks forward, “I thought we were asking personal questions crazypants quid pro quo and all that.” You open your mouth, close it and open it again, “even if that were the case, which it's not why would you think I'd want to know anything about your sex life?” Percy swats the lock of hair constantly trying to blind him, “I don't know maybe you're a pervert or maybe since you have no sex life you're trying to live it through me.” You make a face, “whether I have one or not isn't for you to know and if I were trying to live vicariously I would choose to know about anyone's sex life even old Ms. Winston who smells like feet's sex life over my brother's.” Percy begins to laugh at that but quickly covers it up with a cough, “whatever. What's the topic of discussion then?” “The girl that died.” Percy quirks his nose, “oh that business. Stephanie Burrows, she's dead what more is there to say?” By his tone and completely bored face, it seems he doesn't care at all about that girl nor that she died which means he'd really be willing to tell you everything he knows. “Please just answer my questions, Percival.” He scowls at your use of his government name. <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3>He narrows his eyes, “that sounds ominous.” “Didn't know you knew that word Perc.” “Shut up.” You grin for a second and say, “just answer my damn questions and I'll do the same.” He looks straight and contemplates for a second before shrugging, “fine, no I haven't had a threesome but not because I didn't want to.” “What is wrong with you?” you say in disgust. He looks at you and then looks forward, “I thought we were asking personal questions crazypants quid pro quo and all that.” You groan loud enough for him to hear it, “look even if I gave a shit about your life which is debatable why the hell would I want to know about your sex life?” Percy swats the lock of hair constantly trying to blind him, “I don't know maybe you're a pervert or maybe since you have no sex life you're trying to live it through me.” You shoot him the finger, “that's none of your fucking business and if I were trying to live vicariously I would choose to know about anyone's sex life even old Ms. Winston who smells like feet's sex life over your sex life dear brother.” Percy begins to laugh at that but quickly covers it up with a cough, “whatever. What's the topic of discussion then?” “The dead girl.” Percy quirks his nose, “oh that business. Stephanie Burrows isn't it? She's dead what more is there to say?” By his tone and completely bored face it seems he doesn't care at all about that girl nor that she died which means he'd really be willing to tell you everything he knows. “Answer the damn questions, Percival.” He scowls at your use of his government name. <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3> He takes a moment to answer. “I hadn't heard anything.” You sigh, “well I couldn't expect you to answer that you don't really pay attention to anything else around you.” Percy says, “no, because no one has ever mentioned her.” “What do mean?” you ask.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “As in there wasn't this grand campaign to tell anyone she was missing. And if there was anything in the newspapers it must've been something small and easily forgettable,“ he responds. You raise an eyebrow at that. “I'm serious. No one was talking about it, even if I'm as airy as you think I am I would've at least heard something in passing at Alice's because drunks there love to talk about conspiracies and crime but either people didn't know she was missing or didn't care,“ he lets out a slight growl when he has to shove the lock of hair away from his face again. You think about that. It's true that people in this town keep their noses down and just preoccupy themselves with their own lives but you don't know what it says about this town and its people that no one seems to give a shit. Maybe it's because so many have disappeared that people have grown too used to it? “Anyway it's my turn,“ your brother clicks his tongue a few times before landing on a question, “seriously though how were the drugs? Like good-good?” <hr>\ * [[“By good do you mean strong? Because they were.”->Page 126A]] * [[“They were a-may-zing Percy!”->Page 126AA]] </h3>

<h3>“As far as I know she wasn't found whole, that likely means something got to her and I prefer to think it was an animal,” you say so flatly it sounds as if you were discussing different types of fungi. Percy makes a gagging noise, “you're such a fucking weirdo, you do understand that don't you?” You ignore him and press on, “I want to know if you know if her missing pieces were either cut off with a knife or something like that or... if it was bite marks.” He shakes his head in such an exaggerated motion you think he'll lose focus and veer off the road. “Lovely conversation this early in the morning, I haven't even had breakfast“ he angrily pushes the lock of hair away from his eye and tries to comb it back with his fingers, “look I was never told anything like Sally was but from the brief snippets of conversation I did manage to hear they didn't specify, all I know is that it was a lot of her that was missing like a lot a lot like the only way they could tell it was her was because of a tattoo she had on her ankle.” Your stomach churns at the thought. Percy was right this wasn't the most pleasant conversation to have this early in the morning. The town was weird, there were things that didn't exactly make sense but the problem is even if you wanted to think about what //thing// could've done this to her you wouldn't have much to go on. Children didn't learn about the occult or any sort of creatures here. Until recently the movie theatre didn't even play movies that had any supernatural, or as many adults in town would call 'demon-worshipping' element. Apparently the church didn't even have Bibles. They do allow Halloween as there would be an outcry if they didn't. “...anyway... onto less disgusting topics did you ever see someone get a lobotomy?” You rapidly blink at Percy, “how is that less disgusting?”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He rapidly blinks at you in turn,“is it not less gory to talk about a relatively clean procedure than it is about eaten corpses? Keep your priorities straight sister.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He rapidly blinks at you in turn, “is it not less gory to talk about a relatively clean procedure than it is about eaten corpses? Keep your priorities straight brother.”<</if>> You roll your eyes, “lobotomies haven't been done since the 60s you genius. Where do you get all your medical knowledge from, soap operas?” “Ok fine has anyone ever gotten the shit beat out of them?” <hr>\ * [[“This girl called Beatrice Ray,” you say sadly.->Page 126B]] * [[“This guy named Mark Doherty,” you snort.->Page 126BB]] </h3>

<h3> “Do I look like I'm an overweight balding man who reeks of onions left out in the sun for too long that spends most of his days at work because that's the only place where he's respected?” your brother asks. “What are you talking about?” you question him. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Do I look like a cop?” you open your mouth to answer but he lifts up a finger, “if you say 'yes' I'm pushing you out of this car and can walk your limping ass to school.” It might sound like he's joking but by the absolute seriousness in his eyes you can tell he would. Percy likes to think of himself as a very handsome boy. “You like gossip, you probably know more than the entire police station because you hang out with drunk people and you don't look like a cop,“ you raise your hands in surrender. Your brother calms down and thinks for a second before replying, “she died before the... chunks were taken out her. Not long before mind you. Since she has missing body parts they don't know exactly how she died but they are blaming it on satanists.” You snort thinking he's being sarcastic but his neutral expression doesn't crack, “satanists? Really? I thought that craze ended years ago when all of the time it was just random serial killer men instead of the kid who listens to Alice Cooper and draws pentagrams on his notebooks.” “Yeah well this town is always about a decade behind other places so they've been eyeing those kids that smoke by the bleachers at your high school, they've even taken some in for questioning,“ he swats his hair. They're probably looking at all the kids who they deem abnormal, kids who don't fit in with the rest, that's why you were questioned. “Do you happen to know where Orla's locket is?” <hr>\ * [[“Why do you care to know?”->Page 126C]] * [[“Lorcan asked me the same question.”->Page 126CC]] </h3>

<h3> “Are you trying to pin this on me?” he asks. Your eyebrows push together “why is that your first reaction?” “Don't answer a question with a question.” “You just did!“ you exclaim. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He shakes his head as if he were talking to a petulant child. “Cause I heard the police had thought you had done it for a second and you're evil enough to try and divert their attention to me to save your murderous ass,“ he honks at a chipmunk that's standing in the middle of the road that the car is quickly approaching. You roll your eyes and bite back all the words you want to say to him, “no I'm not asking to blame you, I haven't even thought that there was a connection that deep between you two to warrant you possibly murdering her... unless?” you leave the rest of your words suspended in the air and look at him with a question in your eyes. He honks louder as the car is seconds away from running over the chipmunk, when you think the wheels are just about to flatten its little body the creature runs to the other side of the street as the car barrels past. Percy lets out a sigh of relief and flicks his eyes to you, “I didn't know her. I always saw her at school. I think she was a grade below me which would actually make her around your age.” You $habit as you try to think if you had ever heard her name spoken by anyone you knew. That was easy. It's not like you knew many people but Nia. As you recall she had never mentioned a girl by the name Stephanie Burrows. “You know who might've known her? Orla,“ Percy abruptly adds. “Why would you think that?” you try not to show your interest peeks at the suggestion that that name could be involved in all this as you previously thought. He runs his hand through his hair that matches the colour hers was, “according to my sources at Alice's the girl was on the cheerleading team and we both know who was cheer captain don't we?” You don't answer him while you try to figure out what you could do with that information. [[NEXT->Page 127]] </h3>

<h3> “A lot of them would make me loopy for hours on end, others would knock me out for days and most of them didn't work,“ you answer. Percy thinks about this for a second, “so like... do you have any?” You turn in your seat and give him a quizzical look, “and for what reason would you like to know that?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He looks at you at what you think is an attempt at looking innocent which fails miserably, “can you blame a brother for wanting to know if his sister is taking care of herself?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He looks at you at what you think is an attempt at looking innocent which fails miserably, “can you blame a brother for wanting to know if his brother is taking care of himself?”<</if>> You stare and he looks back and forth from the road to you and sniffs, “I'm not saying I'm gonna take them ok? Although I wouldn't mind at least one pill for me but I could sell the rest and give you some of the profit.” You stare. Your brother rolls his eyes, “didn't take you for a goody-two-shoes type crazypants and I never thought you could not like money.” You turn forward and reply, “there's a difference between being a goody-two-shoes and not wanting to go to prison for drug trafficking and I'm not like you I've never needed that much money.” Percy mumbles something under his breath you don't hear. <hr>\ * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3> “I was soooo fucked up all the time! A non-stop party twenty-four-seven like you think you've been to parties? The ones at a mental hospital will leave you naked with a butt plug in your ass and a nipple ring,“ you try to candidly say with a grin. “Really?” your brother asks with a smile. Your grin falls instantly, “no you idiot. Most of the medicine there left me sick for days and some fuck you up for life and not in a Vegas way but in a 'I have short-term memory' way.” Percy pouts, “how is it that you manage to make everything depressing?” “It's a god-given talent.” “I see that. Anyway if they fuck you up as much as you say and I don't want to get fucked up like that then maybe we could sell them to some poor dumbass?” he suggests. You glare at him, “so in your eyes it's okay to fuck some unsuspecting person potentially for the rest of their life just for some bucks?” He exhales annoyed and says, “I didn't know I was chauffeuring mother Teresa.” You snort, “basic human decency it's a quality of sainthood and speaking of decency that woman was bitch.” “So that's a no?” You don't answer and he says something under his breath that sounds like 'muppet thumb itch.' <hr>\ * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3>“It happened the very first week I was there, I didn't even know her that well but it was awful,“ you sigh. You don't speak for a few moments and your brother rolls his hand gesturing you to continue. “Apparently from what another patient told me she was homesick and wouldn't stop crying, refused to take anything to calm her down and if the orderlies hadn't gotten to her first after she threw her food in a fit the other patients would've,“ you finish with a distaste in your mouth. Percy, on the other hand, looks like he's a six-year-old at Christmas. His cheeks flush and almost looks giddy. “How bad was it?” You make a noise at the back of your throat, this seems to get you more uncomfortable than the partially eaten victim found near your family home which you don't know if that's supposed to be the order of things. You rub your eyes and try to remember what exactly you saw happen to that girl. “I don't know. It's all-“ you motion your hands around your head “-jumbled. At times blurry, other times it's like looking through a funhouse mirror I don't even know if she ever came back after that, maybe her parents took her back or maybe she ran away.” Percy expression deflates a tad, “remind me to never expect you to tell a titillating story ever again and remind me to never ask you if you remember where I left something actually scratch that, you might not even remember that I told you any of this I question how you can function day to day.” You shoot him an odd look, “are you telling me that you get off to stories of violence?” He waves that away, “I didn't mean it like that and I don't want to talk about that so ask me your next question.” <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3> “I had been there for six months give or take and this kid always had the chocolate pudding, every day at breakfast that's what he most looked forward to. He refused to eat anything else on his plate if there wasn't any pudding there,“ you reminisce with a sigh of nostalgia. A half smile dances across Percy's lips, he's nearly as into the story as you are. “Go on,“ he says ,“let me guess, one day someone stole his pudding or there wasn't any?” You shake your head and feel a smirk spread to your cheeks, “not at all, it was there like every day but it wasn't chocolate pudding. You see they had just run out that day, the patient before him had gotten the last chocolate pudding and so they gave him vanilla pudding instead.” Your brother lets out a snort and he does permit himself a quick laugh, “as someone who is not insane I would get pissed if anyone ever gave me vanilla over chocolate like it's not the same thing.” “You can only imagine how insane he got, started throwing his food and other people's foods around, said that they had given him snow because it was snowing outside and smacked a tray on an orderly so hard I think he broke his nose,“ you continue on. “And then?” he asks. “And then nothing. He got the shit beaten out of him for being a whiny little bastard,“ you shrug and look at the road. You hear Percy shift in his seat “really? Did no one ever teach you how to tell stories? You can't reach the climax and fall halfway through? Tell me about the fight.” You exhale deeply, “it's obviously what you can imagine. They punched him and, and, and, restrained him and we didn't see him for like a week.” You don't feel the excitement you felt when you began this story. Your memory like always is a hard thing to grasp with your hands, even memories that don't directly have anything to do with you become faint outlines of a once vibrant drawing. “That was the most disappointing story I ever heard. You suck,“ your brother pouts. <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“Do they know exactly how she died?”->Page 125C]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] </h3>

<h3>Your brother mirrors your questioning look as if what you just said was the oddest thing he's heard all morning. “Why wouldn't I want to know?” You roll your lips for a moment, “I didn't peg you for a sentimentalist.” He smiles, “what can I say? I loved our sister. I want something to remember her by in the long decades I'll spend without her,“ he touches a hand to his chest but quickly slides it back to his forehead to keep his pesky lock in place. You inhale in response as the car comes to a stop at a red light. You're in the heart of town now. It's too early for many people but the shopkeepers are sweeping the sidewalks in front of their stores, turning over the closed signs and those who have outdoor areas are moving the tables and chairs out. A child skips along, feet barely touching the ground as his mother holds his hand above him as they cross the street. He glances at you and smiles. Your brother honks loudly in response, his impatience glare demanding they move faster. “I don't know what happened the weeks after her death, I would think her personal things were left in her room? Or do you think she was buried with it?” you ask as you watch the child and his mother turn a corner by town hall. The light turns green and your brother slams his foot down, pushing you back against the seat. “Given that her creepy dead face with that bright gaudy makeup was distracting I didn't notice but mom said she didn't have it on when they interred her so I thought if her boyfriend who gave it to her didn't have it you might've taken it.” You were barely paying much attention until the last part of his words make your head snap at attention, “Lorcan? Lorcan gave Orla that necklace?” He looks from the road to you with confused features, “didn't you know?” You fold into yourself and think about his reaction the other night. He was so desperate to get it, you had thought it was because he missed her. It could still be that but it could also be something else? Why didn't he tell you that? “And I'm guessing you want to see how much you can get for it?” you reply. He gasps, “how dare you? You honestly think me that heartless?” he asks in faux shock. You throw him a look and he quickly lets up and chuckles, “it looked expensive, ok?” <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] * [[You have nothing more to ask.->Page 127]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother nods not in agreement but as if saying 'yeah I thought he would do something like that.' “He's been really fucking annoying coming over all the damn time asking for that thing, is that why you were with him at the party?” he asks. “Yeah, he got all insane because I said I didn't know where it was, and you say I'm crazy you should've seen him. Hyperventilating, pulling his hair out, crying,“ you say irritated. Percy lets out a breath of air that sounds like a laugh, “that little freak's obsession with Orla is a sight to behold especially if you imply she was anything less than a perfect goddess.” You smirk in response as the car comes to a stop at a red light. You're in the heart of town now. It's too early for many people but the shopkeepers are sweeping the sidewalks in front of their stores, turning over the closed sign and those who have outdoor areas are moving the tables and chairs out. A child skips along, feet barely touching the ground as his mother holds his hand above him as they cross the street. He glances at you and waves. Your brother honks loudly in response, his impatience glare demanding they move faster. “You already know how shit my memory is anyhow so you can't be surprised when I tell you I have no idea where the fuck that thing is. Has no one had the brilliant idea to check her room or ask our parents if she was buried with it?” you ask as your eyes follow the kid and his mother until they turn a corner near town hall. The light turns green and your brother slams his foot down, throwing you back against the seat. “Obviously genius I've checked her room and I even asked mom if they burned her with it but she said she didn't even know where it was herself so that's a dead-end. If he wasn't asking around for it so much I would've thought her boyfriend had it, it was his in the first place.” You were barely paying much attention until the last part of his words make you shift to look at him fully, “you mean that idiot gave it to her?” He looks from the road to you with confused features, “I would think a genius like you would know.” You shove him and cross your arms as you think about his reaction the other night. He was so desperate to get it, you had thought it was because his obsession for her was at serial killer levels. It could still be that but maybe he needs it for something else? Why didn't he say anything? “With you getting your degree in bloodsuck-ery I'm guessing you want to pawn it,“ you reply. He gasps, “crazypants how could you think so low of me? You think I'm that much of a monster?” he asks in faux shock. You give him a disbelieving look and he quickly lets up and chuckles, “it looked old, something worth a couple hundred.” <hr>\ * [[“Did people know she was missing before they found her?”->Page 125A]] * [[“In what condition was her body in?”->Page 125B]] * [[“Did you know her?”->Page 125D]] * [[You have nothing more to ask.->Page 127]] </h3>

<h3> Before anything else can happen you see the tall building you recognize so well peeking out from behind the leaves of the trees planted in front of the big grass plot that is laid in front of the school entrance. Your brother swerves the steering wheel sharply to the right and with skill aligns the car perfectly perpendicular to the sidewalk but stomps the brake too quickly and the car lurches you forward so that the seat belt digs into the crook of your neck. You lean back and unbuckle yourself. Grabbing your <<cycle '$holder' autoselect>><<option 'backpack'>><<option 'purse'>><<option 'satchel'>><<option 'tote bag'>><</cycle>>, you hoist it over your shoulder and open the car door. You glance at your brother who's staring straight ahead and you open your mouth to say something but he's quicker and says, “just get out of the fucking car crazypants I have shit to do.” You grimace and step out of the car, no sooner do you slam the door shut that Percy jerks away from the sidewalk and speeds down the street. You watch the retreating car for a moment and then begin walking towards the front doors. The perfectly trimmed grass flattens with a gentle noise under your feet and you hoist your things up again, as you feel a strap slipping down your delicate shoulders. The building itself is old, the first high school was built in the spot that now holds the town library and this one was built in the early 1910s. It has suffered a long history of misfortune from fires, infestation, murder-suicides, disappearing teachers, translucent students, headless mascots, moving lunch soup and bureaucracy. It always gets rebuilt the same way though. Red bricks, white trims, a flat roof bathed in gravel, four floors, long awning windows scratched to absurdity and a gigantic circular track behind the school. The white rusted bell in its little home at the pinnacle doesn't ring anymore. You pass the large billboard mounted on the grass that says in proud yellow lettering: 'CROUN HIGH: HOME OF THE KINGS' and below it an announcement in black text saying 'WELCOME ALL FRESHMAN AND RETURNING STUDENTS FOR THE NEW SCHOOL YEAR OF 94-95!' You slowly climb up the long concrete steps and when you do reach the large imposing wooden doors you hesitate for a second as your hand hovers near the handle. This is your first time truly out in the world without your brother or the familiarity of your family home to aid you. You feel... <hr>\ * [[Excited.->Page 128A]] * [[Nervous.->Page 128B]] * [[Bored.->Page 128C]] </h3>

<h3> You don't know him that well to say his intentions are either good or malicious. It does raise your alarm bells that he would be so kind to you but it might just mean he's a kind person. <<set $Imre_relationship to 41>> You and Nia never really spoke that much about him. He was part of her other life and that topic was never broached by either of you for reasons you can't articulate. She would say that although she adored him he always put himself above others and that he had no qualms about lying to those closest to him. He has never been a person on your immediate radar. Always just a classmate who people would flock around as if he were a celebrity. But now he's on your radar and you don't know what that will mean. You're also on his radar and that is something to keep at the back of your mind because you have a feeling you'll be seeing much more of him. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> Nia is the type of person to conceal her feelings even from you. You'd think being her friend all your life would give you an easier read on her but it doesn't. If you could take a guess, maybe she's being cautious. She had seen you in bad times and had heard bad things about you but it never seemed to bother her before. She would even defend you when someone tried to be cruel, she once got into an altercation with your sister in your name. She wasn't scared of anything, did being away from you and near others convince her of their prejudices? She has always been one of the most important people in your world but that's a double-edged sword because it means that now that she doesn't like you it's a constant topic swirling around in your mind. You wonder... what are the things she now thinks about you? What are the things she now believes? Would she flinch away if you laid a hand on her shoulder? Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> His hate for you has crossed into psychotic obsession and no matter how much time passes, how little you see of each other it still persists. You were sent away when he's the one who's insane. Well, you can't entirely say it's one-sided. You two have gotten into infamous rows for years, you have antagonized him in retaliation. You could have never imagined that you could loathe someone more than your sister when his bullying wasn't as horrible compared to hers. There is much you don't know about the world but hating him is giving him your time, your life, but you can't help it. You don't know what you expected when you would come face to face again, to be honest you hadn't thought much of him while you were gone. The hate turning into cold remembrance. It just makes you realize that years can pass and a relationship remains unchanged. You see no resolution in sight. All you know for certain is that he will never extend an olive branch and you don't know how to begin untangling years of war. Before you can go further with your thoughts the door opens and next to the detective stands Sally. You rise and go to him. <hr>\ * [[You let him hug you.->Page 101A]] * [[You greet him.->Page 101B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 101C]] </h3>

<h3> //How could you believe things would remain the same after all this time? Haven't you learned better? Did you not experience enough?// They had never dared to say it to your face. With your sister's death, with what everyone had whispered about you in the weeks after her death it had made them bold and even two years of difference didn't change that. James laughs behind you, then his buddies follow and then you hear a girl's laugh and another one and another and two, then three and more follow until it's once again that roarous behemoth, that monster they were minutes before. The laughs you hear aren't nervous little things but true amusement. They're enjoying themselves, at you and at the concept of killing. As cruel children do. You... <hr>\ * [[Sigh and say, “hi James, hi everyone.”->Page 132A]] * [[Smile and say, “you have a way with words James, pass fourth grade english yet?”->Page 132B]] * [[Clench your teeth and stick up the middle finger.->Page 132C]] * [[Roll your eyes and say nothing.->Page 132D]] </h3>

<h3> You turn around on your heels and try to smile as pleasantly as you can. “For the curious yes I am back, yes I'll be here every day and I hope I can get to know all of you better,“ those words feel like acid going down your throat. You want to be gracious, to be the bigger person but it's hard when James looks at you incredulously, looks towards his friends then bursts out laughing. “As if anyone would want to spend time with you! No one wants to catch the crazies or end up floating face-up in the lake,“ he says in between chuckles. You imagine what it would feel like to slice him open. You're about to respond when you catch locks are curls at the edge of your vision. Nia stands by her locker, surrounded by her friends with her eyes glued on you. She looks from James to you and both and there's a slight quirk in between her eyebrows but the rest of her face is passive. She mouths something that looks like 'stop trying.' She slams her locker shut and maneuvers to seamlessly walk past you without contact in such a small space. Her posse aren't as tactful and shove you from left to right as they pass you by. Did she laugh too? You huff and turn around, words of 'freak,' 'weirdo,' 'lunatic,' 'killer,' all audible enough now that your back is turned as you slip out of their sight. [[NEXT->Page 133]] </h3>

<h3> You tensely move the muscles of your neck to shoot him a glare over your shoulder while maintaining your finger proudly up. You weren't the type to get into physical fights nor were you unaccustomed to insults but this specific insult had aimed true to your chest and you were bleeding out. James smugly gave you the finger back and directed his friends to do the same. “Aw is that the best you can do? Get back to me when you can talk like a man“ he laughs at his own wit. You could just about stretch out his entrails. You're about to respond when you catch locks are curls at the edge of your vision. Nia stands by her locker, surrounded by her friends with her eyes glued on you. She looks from James to you and both and there's a slight quirk in between her eyebrows but the rest of her face is passive. She mouths something that looks like 'calm down.' She slams her locker shut and maneuvers to seamlessly walk past you without contact in such a small space. Her posse aren't as tactful and shove you from left to right as they pass you by. Did she laugh too? You huff and turn around, words of 'freak,' 'weirdo,' 'lunatic,' 'killer,' all audible enough now that your back is turned as you slip out of their sight. [[NEXT->Page 133]] </h3>

<h3>You do twist your body around to show how little interested in his comments of you are. Of course the mere act of needing to show him that does negate your point but he's not smart enough to know that. You don't want to volley cruel banter between you two, you don't want to incite violence either, be the bigger person is overrated. You want him to see how beneath you he is. James twists his mouth a bit at your dispassionate gaze. “What? To cool to answer? Like any of us care what someone like you thinks about us anyway,“ he tries to confidently muster and his goonies all assent. You don't move your eyes away, thinking of keeping this going for a moment longer when you catch locks are curls at the edge of your vision. Nia stands by her locker, surrounded by her friends with her eyes glued on you. She looks from James to you and both and there's a slight quirk in between her eyebrows but the rest of her face is passive. She mouths something that looks like 'just go.' She slams her locker shut and maneuvers to seamlessly walk past you without contact in such a small space. Her posse aren't as tactful and shove you from left to right as they pass you by. Did she laugh too? You huff and turn around, words of 'freak,' 'weirdo,' 'lunatic,' 'killer,' all audible enough now that your back is turned as you slip out of their sight. [[NEXT->Page 133]] </h3>

<h3> You twirl around like a dancer and viciously smile with your teeth as the words slip pleasantly from your lips, “or is the word simile still giving you a hard time? I could help you if you want it would look good on my transcript to help mentally underdeveloped football players.” It's not in your nature for you to be kind. The high road is for those who give up before they even tried. James snorts and chuckles and when his friends don't follow suit he elbows one of them until he starts chuckling too and the others follow. “You think you're so fucking smart don't you? Just because your sister's dead doesn't mean you'll take her spot,“ he says with a grin and a slight hiss. What would it feel like to scoop out his eyes? You're about to respond when you catch locks are curls at the edge of your vision. Nia stands by her locker, surrounded by her friends with her eyes glued on you. She looks from James to you and both and there's a slight quirk in between her eyebrows but the rest of her face is passive. She mouths something that looks like 'don't be stupid.' She slams her locker shut and maneuvers to seamlessly walk past you without contact in such a small space. Her posse aren't as tactful and shove you from left to right as they pass you by. Did she laugh too? You huff and turn around, words of 'freak,' 'weirdo,' 'lunatic,' 'killer,' all audible enough now that your back is turned as you slip out of their sight. [[NEXT->Page 133]] </h3>

<h3> As you go along, trying to refamiliarize yourself with the structure of your old high school with its identical classrooms, overabundance of bathrooms, one medium-sized gym that has always smelled faintly of uneaten food left out in a teenage boy's room, its basement that became prohibited to enter after a cult formed there in the 70s to a dead rat, you endure more and more looks. Some outwardly stare and follow your movements until you're out of their field of vision, some do a double take and fearfully look away and some don't directly look but do their best to scatter from you like bottom fish do to great white sharks. Those that don't look away either give you a scowl or if they're among friends they point, whisper fervently to each other, and then fall into a hysteria of giggles and snickers as if you had a big red clown nose on. You wonder if it wouldn't been best if they had shown their contempt and mockery so directly before you went away so that this would be a regular Monday to you. Although there is something to having to put up with being made a spectacle of. Usually, if you're not it's because you're not seen as damaged goods. It all makes you feel... <hr>\ * [[sad.->Page 134]] * [[angry.->Page 134B]] * [[pleased.->Page 134C]] </h3>

<h3> It's been eighteen years of this. Well, no... the problems didn't start into well into your childhood but fair to say that its been years of being viewed through the eyes of ridicule, suspicion, fear and loathing. The only solace you had ― that they weren't as brave at school as they were at home ― was now taken from you. What to do? How are you going to survive the next nine months of this until graduation? Why can't you exist in a world where there's more compassion? Better yet, why you? You don't even have Nia here to reassure you in her special way anymore. She belongs to them now. Your sister's place has been taken up by the entire student body. In this moment you allow yourself to feel sorry for yourself, a rarity. They say there are others like you in the world but when it doesn't feel that way when you're alone in your head. You come into this world alone, live alone and die alone. Your philosophical musings are cut short when you arrive at the door marked room 241. Luckily there aren't many students here yet as only first bell just rang. The few who are do glance at you as you decide to sit <<cycle '$seat autoselect'>><<option 'at the front'>><<option 'in the middle'>><<option 'at the back'>><</cycle>>. If they have an opinion they don't voice it just continue reading or staring weary at the blackboard. You stare at the board too for lack of something better to do, the ticking of the clock and shifting of pages go along with the hum of the radiator. Mrs. Paulson your English teacher walks in noisily with her tall heels, cradling a big mug of coffee. Eyes drooping under the weight of her downturned eyebrows and curly mousy brown hair falling down in sad thin trickles down her shoulders. She sets down the mug by the table in front of the room and looks tiredly at the students in front of her, her eyes momentarily widen when she sees you. Second bell rings and she takes a big gulp of steaming coffee without flinching. [[NEXT->Page 135]] </h3>

<h3> It's been eighteen years of this. Well, no... the problems didn't start into well into your childhood but fair to say that its been years of being viewed through the eyes of ridicule, suspicion, fear and loathing. The only fucking reprieve you had ― that they weren't as brave at school as they were at home ― was now taken from you. It's not fair that everyone else can walk around here and no one bats an eye but some much as breathe and by lunchtime there'll be a rumour you have halitosis. You don't need any goddamn special treatment but a little fucking courtesy won't hurt. What the hell are you paying? Even Nia. Allegedly the girl who called herself your best friend can't even say a word in your defence. Coward. You're not really rid of your sister, everyone in this school took her place. In this moment you feel a boiling rage at the pit of your stomach, this current of anger so easily summoned by you, always. You've always been told to control but it's easier said than done when people outside of your control deliberately provoke you. Your spitfire ranting is cut short when you arrive at the door marked room 241. Luckily there aren't many students here yet as only first bell just rang. The few who are do glance at you as you decide to sit <<cycle '$seat autoselect'>><<option 'at the front'>><<option 'in the middle'>><<option 'at the back'>><</cycle>>. If they have an opinion they don't voice it just continue reading or staring weary at the blackboard. You stare at the board too for lack of something better to do, the ticking of the clock and shifting of pages go along with the hum of the radiator. Mrs. Paulson your English teacher walks in noisily with her tall heels, cradling a big mug of coffee. Eyes drooping under the weight of her downturned eyebrows and curly mousy brown hair falling down in sad thin trickles down her shoulders. She sets down the mug by the table in front of the room and looks tiredly at the students in front of her, her eyes momentarily widen when she sees you. Second bell rings and she takes a big gulp of steaming coffee without flinching. [[NEXT->Page 135]] </h3>

<h3> It's been eighteen years of this. Well, no... the problems didn't start into well into your childhood but fair to say that its been years of being viewed through the eyes of ridicule, suspicion, fear and loathing. It almost feels delightful that this neutral zone ― where they were once not so brave as they seem to be today ― is now taken from you.<<set $evilmeter +=1>> Is it not better to be feared than loved they say? People are fickle and they bring you down as easily as raise you up if they say they love you. Humans are flawed but god forbid you're revered because they won't accept that. But, fear? Hate? No one expects anything from you. You're free from the shackles of demand and can do whatever you want, be whoever you want to be. Nia doesn't love you anymore? That's fine. That's perfect, one less person around sniffing at all your shortcomings, waiting to give you that look of disappointment when you fail them. You feel a rumbling in your throat, you could truly almost laugh at how fun this all is. The Phantom of the Opera became a nightmare because they treated him as such. Anything you do against anyone, they have it coming. You're just trying to defend yourself. Your inspirational self-motivation is cut short when you arrive at the door marked room 241. Luckily there aren't many students here yet as only first bell just rang. The few who are do glance at you as you decide to sit <<cycle '$seat autoselect'>><<option 'at the front'>><<option 'in the middle'>><<option 'at the back'>><</cycle>>. If they have an opinion they don't voice it just continue reading or staring weary at the blackboard. You stare at the board too for lack of something better to do, the ticking of the clock and shifting of pages go along with the hum of the radiator. Mrs. Paulson your English teacher walks in noisily with her tall heels, cradling a big mug of coffee. Eyes drooping under the weight of her downturned eyebrows and curly mousy brown hair falling down in sad thin trickles down her shoulders. She sets down the mug by the table in front of the room and looks tiredly at the students in front of her, her eyes momentarily widen when she sees you. Second bell rings and she takes a big gulp of steaming coffee without flinching. [[NEXT->Page 135]] </h3>

<h3> The majority of the class comes in after second bell and they all repeat the same thing everyone is doing to you. Some you encountered in the halls, their looks of surprise having to do with the fact you're in their class. No one sits near you, preferring to to take the outer seats that complete this seating square. “Miss, I don't know where to sit“ a freckled-faced girl says. Mrs. Paulson sighs and points in your general direction “I see about three spots over there Bailey.” The girl, Bailey gives her a dismayed look and edges closer to whisper to your teacher. Mrs. Paulson closes her eyes in frustration and looks to the ceiling. She shoots you an annoyed glance as if it were your fault she's being bothered with this. She gestures vaguely to the back wall “sit or stand I don't care, I'll ask for another desk for tomorrow.” Bailey smiles pleasantly and marches to the back, your eyes follow her as she leans against the radiator. She notices your eyes, twists her mouth unpleasantly and pretends to read her notebook that has no notes because it's the first day. For the next hour, Mrs. Paulson babbles on uninspired about 12th-century Italian poetry and you try to ignore the looks you feel against your face and at your back. But in lieu of interesting topics, you're the best thing. They look, they turn away, they write notes to each other and pass them around, each adding things to them, each smiling privately to themselves as they read what the other person wrote. You do catch a glimpse of what looks like you with clown makeup on in a bloody straightjacket. You... <hr>\ * [[ignore them.->Page 136]] * [[give them the finger.->Page 136B]] * [[scare them.->Page 136C]] </h3>

<h3> You feel your heart thumping rhythmically beneath your chest, your ears are perked and you can sense all the nerves in your body alight as if a match has lit them. Why do you feel this way? It's hard to know, the fact that your brain doesn't quite grasp why your body seems to have a mind of its own doesn't help matters. You swear you can hear your blood running through your entire body, the surface of your skin tightens and rises in goosebumps and the muscles of your thighs flex making to almost jump you'd think. Maybe it's the thought of a challenge. You know going in there will not be pleasant, people are not pleasant. They will stare, they will laugh, they will whisper things about you that they can't say to your face. No one will be happy to have you back, and no one will go out of their way to talk to you. You know all this, don't you? That still doesn't stop the intensity of the energy waking up your ligaments, the cold breeze of the day aiding in cooling down your warming face. This must be what those characters in action movies feel when they sense a fight is coming. It's not like you imagine yourself going in and throwing punches left and right, you aren't the type ― well haven't been in the past ― but to think of going in there and being met with antagonism does require some psyching up as it will. You could be exaggerating of course. It could be like your party was. No one was really there to see you, and those who spoke to you were less interested in you as a person but more curious to have satiated any burning questions they had before figuring out you weren't that scandalous and growing bored. Due to past treatment maybe you just inflate your importance because it's better than to hope for normal treatment from people who have never shown you that mercy. You don't know yet whether it's better to treat the world with a rock in your hand before allowing it the time to gather one itself. “Fuck it“ you say to yourself and push open the door. [[NEXT->Page 129]] </h3>

<h3> You can hear a loud cascade like a waterfall rushing by your ears, blocking everything else out and it reminds you of a similar buzzing you've heard before but can't recall when. But this is different, this is a sound that frays your nerve endings unpleasantly. An uncomfortable state of being that makes your stomach hot and aching, threatening to heave up whatever it can find. You don't understand the exact nature of anxiety. You can read the definition and nod your head along but you can't make your brain understand why your body reacts this way to certain things. It's rare that you get like this, the palms of your hands and the folds between your fingers feeling sticky and warm. You want to turn around. You want to walk home and never come back. You know how these kids are like... they will stare, they will laugh, they will whisper things about you that they can't say to your face. No one will be happy to have you back, and no one will go out of their way to talk to you. How can you believe it'll be any different? You feel odd in the clothes you wear. You aren't dressed like someone else but it still feels like you're wearing a costume and the clothes feel too tight, did they shrink? This must be what it feels like to look over a cliff and feel the pull of the waves. It seems like your dormant masochist tendencies have finally surfaced because you know you won't leave, you'll go in there and suffer all they have to give. A shaky breath is swallowed by your mouth. This could all be in your head. You thought the party was going to be bad and it wasn't. No one was really there to see you, and those who spoke to you were less interested in you as a person but more curious to have satiated any burning questions they had before figuring out you weren't that scandalous and growing bored. You've been treated like this all your life, of course this is what you come to expect. To hope for normal treatment from people who have never shown you compassion is folly and goes against your rationale. You can't tell if there's any good in treating the world as if it has a rock at all times hidden behind its back for you. “Fuck me“ you say to yourself and push open the door. [[NEXT->Page 129]] </h3>

<h3> It's usually what you feel about everything. Your life has been until this point a series of interconnected events that you flow through as if it wasn't your life but a play you are watching based on it, the action is happening to someone who is playing you and thus you have nothing to lose, //and nothing to gain either// a small voice says. You could call it an out-of-body experience if you weren't acutely aware of your body. The problem is that somewhere along the line an important component either malfunctioned or wasn't added and that's the thing that connects your body to the thoughts of your brain. You know how it all works, you know your arm moves because your brain wills it to you just can't seem to understand why your body does things at times that you haven't ordered your brain to do. You once thought everyone was like this, that they weren't in step with their emotions. That didn't go over well in therapy. But fortunately for you right now wasn't one of those moments. In this moment your brain was in sync with your body and both of your components felt at ease, so at ease you could almost yawn. Sure you knew what awaited you; they will stare, they will laugh, they will whisper things about you that they can't say to your face. No one will be happy to have you back, and no one will go out of their way to talk to you. You've never cared before, why change now? It will do you no good to overthink and torment yourself with how you'll be received. The party was fine. No one was really there to see you, and those who spoke to you were less interested in you as a person but more curious to have satiated any burning questions they had before figuring out you weren't that scandalous and growing bored. It's easy to predict things when they have always gone in solely one direction, to hope for normal treatment from people who have never shown you any other reaction. The only thing you can't predict is whether treating the world the way you preemptively expect it to react will backfire on the off chance it changes its tune. “Ugh whatever“ you say to yourself and push open the door. [[NEXT->Page 129]] </h3>

<h3> The first thing you notice is the noise. Distinctly so because it's so all-encompassing. Like being in a stadium surrounded by thousands of cheering fans who are exulted in ecstasy over what they see. This choir, this cacophony of voices neither noticeable female or male, but rather genderless and monstrous hit your eyes like a car horn before you can even gather what you're looking at. The sound draws a line so pronounced between what is //you// and what is //them//. As you stand at the threshold between what feels like your world and theirs you can make out the shapes of all the people that power this monster you hear. Girls smiling at each other while touching each other so freely and friendly, the boys playfully punching each other in the arms, people here and people there, the laughs, the screams, the yells, the slamming of lockers all the way day the corridor which itself is dripping with red and white, the words that don't sound like English in this cave that mutilates sound. They're speaking a language you can't comprehend because they never taught to you. You grip the door handle so tightly your fingernails start breaking into the skin of your palm but that's like a commotion from farway. The colours all so bright under the cold and emotionless fluorescent lights, hot pink nails, jangling bracelets, acid-washed jeans, Kurt Cobain on a t-shirt, letterman jackets, Doc Martens, stomps and stomps against the floor, papers on the floor, bags thrown against someone's feet, mullets, mohawks, pixie cuts, long dyed hair, pink eyeshadow, dark stubble, shiny buttons that reflect in your eyes as the light bounces off of them, and the smell, oh the smell, its a nauseating menagerie of cheap perfume and cologne that smells like the inside of a car on a hot day. Underneath that the prevalent smell of gym lockers. All squeezed together so tightly some have to roughly elbow through the other sardines. You feel a drop of sweat trail down your chest and your heart is beating so quickly beneath it, your legs feel like jelly, and you're constricted, you're too small, the air isn't enough, and your stomach feels like it's going to fall down to your feet and oh god the cold air of the outside feels like it's pushing to stay here. Quick and short breaths start sputtering out of your trembling mouth and you realize this all so much. There's too many people and there's only one you. You should've asked your brother to homeschool you. All the sensations mix together and you can't tell what if that is smell or if its sound, is that a person or a locker and any minute now if you don't die where you are these colourful moving figures that make up this loud monster will swallow you first. But you can't feel touch, you can't cling to something and your tongue is paralyzed like a dead worm in your unreliable mouth. You think this will never end and your punishment for being what you are is to stay forever in this spot when a loud bang pulls you back into your reality. [[NEXT->Page 130]] </h3>

<h3> There are two types of ways a door can close. The first is a gentle swing, the door as it should fitting itself back into its default position. This type brings no dramatics and it goes as inconspicuous as the person who closed it. The second one is like a loud and definite decision that proclaims someone's descent into hell. Of course, you get the latter. You examine your hand, four little crescents decorating it and you don't remember letting go of the door. When you look back up you see that you're not the only one who heard this. Have you ever been stared at by more than twenty pairs of eyes? Do you know what it feels like to suddenly have the scorching look of the sun upon you? No, you don't, never like this. It's finally so quiet. The monster is no longer carefree in its natural habitat. It has finally found its prey. Pin drops everywhere. You inhale deeply, set your shoulders back and hoist your $holder up. As you make your journey down the hall you can feel their scrutinizing gaze travel all over your body as if little insects were burrowing into your skin and using your veins to through your body. Students begin moving aside, not caring if they step on someone's shoes all in the effort to create a space in the middle of the hall. By the shifty looks in their eyes you know this isn't done out of a sign of decency. They can't bear the thought of you touching them. You step on textbooks and papers that are surely important but that your peers would rather leave them where they are to not catch your attention. As if just by looking and walking forward you couldn't see them. As you part the red sea you see how some eyes crinkle at the ends, some eyes are wide and unblinking, and others look away as soon as you see them but quickly look back when you seemingly look away. You can practically hear their emotions all floating through the air like dust mites. Your steps, their breathing, and the rustle of their clothes as they move aside fill the space like an odd religious hum. Your back is so stiff from the eyes clearly roaming it you swear if you touch it you'll feel an iron rod embedded under your skin and clinging to your spine. You almost think this will be fine. Their apprehension will be stronger than their cruelty but as you reach the end of the end of your Odyssey a singular, petulant, crisp and clear voice rings out, decimating the quiet truce the monster and their prey had. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Fucking murdering bitch,“<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Fucking murdering bastard,“<</if>>, James Hewitt hisses. [[NEXT->Page 131]] </h3>

<h3> If you do anything it'll just make them act up more. They want you to do something because then they'll have something to tell their friends later. You close your eyes and sigh deeply, wishing for this day to be over. You focus on writing down whatever Mrs. Paulson writes and try to think only of the structures of poetry. “For a few weeks we'll be focusing on Dante's Divine Comedy, specifically Inferno so I suggest to buy or borrow your own copy as the school board didn't give me enough for the class this semester“ Mrs. Paulson lifts up her tattered copy, bandaged in tape that has a strong-jawed man with flowing black hair and an exposed chest that looks more like a cover for a harlequin novel than it does high-brow literature. She drops the books on her desk and leans over the desk with her arms and squinty eyes “if any of you have issues with the material“ her eyes sweep across the room “you can come to me but I warn you there's not much I can do for 'special' students“ her eyes land on you and so does the rest of the class. You roll your lips and look down at your pencil, counting the seconds. “For tonight I want you to read cantos one and two...” she continues on and you don't hear the rest. Special help for 'special' students. There are laws about that, acts and such that were created to help kids with disabilities in school, when the school first suggested it to your parents they unequivocally said no. That you were just like the other kids. Ultimately it doesn't really affect anything as those systems are just smokescreens, there isn't much education in this country or town do to aid kids like you in learning. The kids you've met in the hospital would say their teachers would still pass them with failing grades just to make them someone else's problem. You're sure your father has paid off some of your teachers to clean up your grades. Eventually, after droning on for more than thirty minutes, Mrs. Paulson's uninspired teaching is interrupted by the bell which she sighs in relief for. You wait until the majority of the students leave before getting up yourself. [[NEXT->Page 137]] </h3>

<h3> After another round of giggles that they try to maintain under the radar, you start flipping them off one by one. Some of the more decent ones get embarrassed and quickly go back to writing down notes, the others who are less shameless roll their eyes and continue whispering amongst themselves. Annoyingly enough Mrs. Paulson scowls only at you and tells you to pay attention to her poetic musings. “For a few weeks we'll be focusing on Dante's Divine Comedy, specifically Inferno so I suggest to buy or borrow your own copy as the school board didn't give me enough for the class this semester“ Mrs. Paulson lifts up her tattered copy, bandaged in tape that has a strong-jawed man with flowing black hair and an exposed chest that looks more like a cover for a harlequin novel than it does high-brow literature. She drops the books on her desk and leans over the desk with her arms and squinty eyes “if any of you have issues with the material“ her eyes sweep across the room “you can come to me but I warn you there's not much I can do for 'special' students“ her eyes land on you and so does the rest of the class. You bite your lip hard to prevent a series of curses to come flying out at her and everyone else. “For tonight I want you to read cantos one and two...” she continues on and you don't hear the rest. Special help for 'special' students. There are laws about that, acts and such that were created to help kids with disabilities in school, when the school first suggested it to your parents they unequivocally said no. That you were just like the other kids. Ultimately it doesn't really affect anything as those systems are just smokescreens, there isn't much education in this country or town do to aid kids like you in learning. The kids you've met in the hospital would say their teachers would still pass them with failing grades just to make them someone else's problem. You're sure your father has paid off some of your teachers to clean up your grades. Eventually, after droning on for more than thirty minutes, Mrs. Paulson's uninspired teaching is interrupted by the bell which she sighs in relief for. You wait until the majority of the students leave before getting up yourself. [[NEXT->Page 137]] </h3>

<h3> Every time you catch a set of eyes you roll your tongue, cross your eyes and do jazz hands by your ears. You got a mixed bag of reactions, there's weirded-out looks and confusion and one person jumps in their seat. Mrs. Paulson catches you in one of your many different face morphs and tells you to save the theatrics for drama class, that maybe the poetry you're so ignoring would do you good with your facial acting. “For a few weeks we'll be focusing on Dante's Divine Comedy, specifically Inferno so I suggest to buy or borrow your own copy as the school board didn't give me enough for the class this semester“ Mrs. Paulson lifts up her tattered copy, bandaged in tape that has a strong-jawed man with flowing black hair and an exposed chest that looks more like a cover for a harlequin novel than it does high-brow literature. She drops the books on her desk and leans over the desk with her arms and squinty eyes “if any of you have issues with the material“ her eyes sweep across the room “you can come to me but I warn you there's not much I can do for 'special' students“ her eyes land on you and so does the rest of the class. You grin sarcastically and wave it off as if to say you're fine. “For tonight I want you to read cantos one and two...” she continues on and you don't hear the rest. Special help for 'special' students. There are laws about that, acts and such that were created to help kids with disabilities in school, when the school first suggested it to your parents they unequivocally said no. That you were just like the other kids. Ultimately it doesn't really affect anything as those systems are just smokescreens, there isn't much education in this country or town do to aid kids like you in learning. The kids you've met in the hospital would say their teachers would still pass them with failing grades just to make them someone else's problem. You're sure your father has paid off some of your teachers to clean up your grades. Eventually, after droning on for more than thirty minutes, Mrs. Paulson's uninspired teaching is interrupted by the bell which she sighs in relief for. You wait until the majority of the students leave before getting up yourself. [[NEXT->Page 137]] </h3>

<h3> “$name?” Mrs. Paulson calls before you get out the door. You take a step back and look over to where she stands looking down at the sheet of papers at her desk. “Yes?” you say flatly. Without even looking at you, she moves her papers around, “kids can be cruel. It isn't much a reflection on you as it is on them.” She doesn't speak to you with any warmth to her words, better yet it sounds like she's rehearsing a line she read from a pamphlet the guidance counselor gives out for bullying. You nod and answer, “thank you,” before leaving as quickly as you can. The other part is left unsaid... //kids learn cruelty from their adults//. The next few hours are just more of the same, you go anywhere, to class, to the bathrooms, the halls, at your locker, ― which is across the school from all your classes and in the oldest part of the building where the locker doesn't even close properly ― you're watched like a hawk. Even people who have seen you already can't help but not stare. “Do you think <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> she has lice? Those people are disgusting they don't bathe when they're all locked up,”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> he has lice? Those people are disgusting they don't bathe when they're all locked up,”<</if>> a girl who sits behind you says to her friend. “I dare you to talk to $himher“ a boy whispers to his friend while you're walking in front of them. “So $heshe can kill me with those crazy eyes? Fuck off,” the other boy answers. A series of never-ending comments going through your ears that you can't even hear yourself think. You don't even have time to think whether it's better or worse than your own thoughts. [[NEXT->Page 138]] </h3>

<h3> You don't notice at first because you're being bombarded with everyone's opinion about you but somewhere along the way you began getting a headache. You pinch your nose frequently to try and lessen the pounding between your temples to no avail. It's probably stress. Miraculously you make it to lunch without major incidents. School policy allows people to leave the premises but most food joints are way down the road and if you don't have a car you'll waste all of lunch getting there and back. After struggling with keeping your locker door shut you end up arriving late to the cafeteria. On going in you find it just like you remember it. It's a fairly big place with round tables instead of rectangular ones, most people press them up together if they're part of a big friend group. Like every room in this school, its color scheme is red, yellow and white. The lights are kept much lower here as the wall facing the field track is an entire window made from unbreakable glass, a recent addition as because ten years ago a kid named Samy Wiley on a bet ran full speed at it and broke through falling from the second story to the pavement below. His face never recovered. As you get in line for the lunch queue the people in front of you do look and the people behind you do back up a fair distance. But the rest of the students eating at the tables are too busy chatting and roughhousing to pay you mind. The lunch lady Mathilde grunts at every student that comes up the line with their trays in way of saying 'what would you like?' A seemingly always-lit cigarette that never decreases shoved in her painted mouth that creates a cloud of smoke around her. She has been reprimanded a few times by the principal but she just does it again. She grunts at you and you ask her for... <hr>\ * [[today's special.->Page 139]] * [[something healthy.->Page 139B]] * [[something artery clogging.->Page 139C]] </h3>

<h3>Mathilde sticks a large spoon into a brown-gray substance and plops it on your tray, sending specks of liquid on your face and clothes. You grab a handful of napkins and mumble a quick, “thanks,” which she answers by grunting again. You pause as you stand in front of all the tables. There's the goth table, where various kids of dubious gender dressed all in black with gelled spiky coloured hair have pushed their trays aside to talk in hushed voices as they congregate around a cassette tape in the middle that's picture is of that band who has that song about boys not crying. Then there's the quiet table where the only few kids who have skin darker than tan in the whole school sit. It's not really the quiet table, they talk it's just that every time someone who speaks English comes up to them they switch to another language, you don't blame them. Then there's the slushie circus table, and they're called that because they hang around the local gas station emptying out the machine and smoking cigarettes. Then you got your regular geek table, your wannabe actors table, your flunkie table, your Madonna impersonators and finally the loudest and biggest table is the middle, taken up by the richest and most popular kids in school. Or what everyone else calls them, “noname brand Hapsburgs.” You look around trying to see where you could sit because you're not new enough to go to the bathroom but you're not liked enough to just sit anywhere. <hr>\ * [[You sit at the far end.->Page 140]] * [[You sit somewhere in the middle.->Page 140]] * [[You sit closest to the window.->Page 140]] </h3>

<h3>Mathilde jams her big spoon into some small carrots, then some peas, some deli meats and some fruit. All mixed together and haphazardly thrown onto your tray to make a big gooey mess. You grab a handful of napkins and sarcastically say “thanks“ which she answers by grunting again. You pause as you stand in front of all the tables. There's the goth table, where various kids of dubious gender dressed all in black with gelled spiky coloured hair have pushed their trays aside to talk in hushed voices as they congregate around a cassette tape in the middle that's picture is of that band who has that song about boys not crying. Then there's the quiet table where the only few kids who have skin darker than tan in the whole school sit. It's not really the quiet table, they talk its just that every time someone who speaks comes up to them they switch to another language, you don't blame them. Then there's the slushie circus table, and they're called that because they hang around the local gas station emptying out the machine and smoking cigarettes. Then you got your regular geek table, your wannabe actors table, your flunkie table, your Madonna impersonators and finally the loudest and biggest table is the middle, taken up by the richest and most popular kids in school. Or what everyone else calls them “noname brand Hapsburgs“ but never to their face. You look around trying to see where you could sit because you're not new enough to go to the bathroom but you're not liked enough to just sit anywhere. <hr>\ * [[You sit at the far end.->Page 140]] * [[You sit somewhere in the middle.->Page 140]] * [[You sit closest to the window.->Page 140]] </h3>

<h3>She throws a dry slice of pizza onto your tray, then throws a bag of chips, some licorice, and a can of pop directly at you so have to quickly try to catch it all with your tray in hand. You grab a handful of napkins and just shake your head at her which she answers by grunting again. You pause as you stand in front of all the tables. There's the goth table, where various kids of dubious gender dressed all in black with gelled spiky coloured hair have pushed their trays aside to talk in hushed voices as they congregate around a cassette tape in the middle that's picture is of that band who has that song about boys not crying. Then there's the quiet table where the only few kids who have skin darker than tan in the whole school sit. It's not really the quiet table, they talk its just that every time someone who speaks comes up to them they switch to another language, you don't blame them. Then there's the slushie circus table, and they're called that because they hang around the local gas station emptying out the machine and smoking cigarettes. Then you got your regular geek table, your wannabe actors table, your flunkie table, your Madonna impersonators and finally the loudest and biggest table is the middle, taken up by the richest and most popular kids in school. Or what everyone else calls them “noname brand Hapsburgs“ but never to their face. You look around trying to see where you could sit because you're not new enough to go to the bathroom but you're not liked enough to just sit anywhere. <hr>\ * [[You sit at the far end.->Page 140]] * [[You sit somewhere in the middle.->Page 140]] * [[You sit closest to the window.->Page 140]] </h3>

<h3> As you pass around the sea of tables heads turn your way, even the goths stop talking for a moment to watch you pass by. Imre, who's holding court at the head of the tables falters for a second in his story when you walk right next to him but continues on like nothing happened. Nia sits next to him looking very bored at what he's saying but probably does it to not cross eyes with you. When you reach your table, there's only one person there, a girl named Amanda Thompson who infamously gave birth on the dancefloor of the ninth-grade formal. She's been a pariah ever since. When you sit down across from her she gets up and goes over to sit with the computer nerds. You rub your aching forehead and in doing so you look up to see Lorcan casually leaning against the window, arms crossed, chewing on something. Unlike everyone else today he doesn't look at you with mockery, fear or curiosity. His stare is blank, interrupted with a few blinks. You look down at your tray and swirl your food around, trying to see where you can tackle it from. You set aside a piece that seems to be breathing. A loud yell interrupts your work and you watch as a random cheerleader is thrown over the shoulder of a big buff boy. She's laughing delightedly at Imre's table. You observe Imre's hand gestures, he's gesticulating about something and everyone laughs in turn. Nia has her cheek leaning against her fist and she watches all her friends around the tables with a disdainful look in her eyes. A few kids come up to Lorcan and discreetly pass him folded bills and he shakes their hand, a flash of something green passes between them. And the lunch hour passes as you try to eat. [[NEXT->Page 141]] </h3>

<h3> You don't eat much when the bell rings and everyone begins shoving each other out of the way to throw out their half eaten food. Not wanting to be late for class you get with the rest and try to maneuver your way through the masses without directly touching anyone. You're passing Imre's table when someone sticks their foot out and you slam hard against the floor. Your tray squishes its contents onto your chest and the rest of it flies off in different directions throughout the floor. You catch a pair of pink Mary Jane's by your face. Your nose hurts and the pain spreads throughout your face. You struggle to get up and a pair of hands assist you. Disorientated you look over your shoulder at a pair of deep brown eyes. She slides her arms from your arms to your shoulders and there's a burning look in her eyes. You're about to say something to Nia when the laughing violently crushes through your pulsing ears. To look over at her table to see all her friends loudly jeering at you. The boys laugh so hard they lean on each other, one boy presses his face to a girl's arm, his own shoulders shaking. The girls are furiously whispering in each other's ears with big plastered smiles and red faces. At the head Imre smiles around the table, the edges of his mouth sharp and his eyes lifeless. he glances at you and you look away before seeing what they hold. “Birdie, are you ok?” Nia whispers gently by your ear. A flash of cold pain runs through your nose and you bend your head and see those pink shoes again. You follow them up to a pair of tan legs, a white skirt, a pale pink top and no- Your innards plummet as you look into that cold cruel smile. “//Orla//?” you rasp, the name coming out unwanted like blood in your mouth. [[NEXT->Page 142]] </h3>

<h3> Your sister chuckles and throws her head back like you've seen her do thousands of times before. “What did you say?” Nia asks. You shake your head and violently shrug her off. She steps back and raises her hands in a gesture of peace. Nia's stoic face cracking for a second in worry. You look from her, to Imre who has a curious expression, to their friends, to all the students who stopped what they were doing to all look at you. Students by the Trash cans with their trays in hand looking shocked not knowing whether to laugh or not. Strange quick breaths come tumbling out of your mouth and it feels like you're choking on something. You look at the girl again and her face is different now. The smile is no longer familiar. You clutch your chest, you feel your heart pounding loudly against your palm. “What the fuck is wrong with $himher?” someone says. You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut. She's dead. She's dead. Her name comes out over and over from your mouth. You can't help it. “Guilty conscious much. Didn't think a murderer would have one,” a voice says from somewhere in the room. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“...probably going to cry to her boyfriend Sally.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“...probably going to cry to his boyfriend Sally.”<</if>> <<if $nickname>> “$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> Nia's voice says from behind you. Your eyes snap open and whip around to look at her. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Please leave me alone, Nia,” you sigh.->Page 143]] * [[♡ “Stay the fuck away from me, Nia,” you hiss.->Page 143B]] * [[⟡ “Now I'm your birdie?” you ask.->Page 143C]] * [[You don't say anything, just shake your head at her.->Page 143D]] </h3>

<h3>She opens her mouth to speak and closes it grimly. She shrugs her shoulders and schools her face into a mask of indifference as is her speciality. You turn and stalk out of the cafeteria, fervent whispers follow you. Once the doors slam behind you, you take a moment and begin almost sprinting to wherever your feet take you. People follow your movements as you fly by the halls and that attracts more whispers. //Why can't they all just die?// An electric current runs up and down through your body, igniting a heart that hasn't been used to pumping so hard in daylight. Mrs. Paulson is walking out from her classroom when you bump into her and send her coffee crashing against the floor. You don't stop and her voice calling your name barely registers in a mind that's overloading on too much. <<set $Nia_Rfriendly to 1>> //She isn't supposed to be here. She died.//<<audio "hopeless" loop play>> You shoulder through a door and your legs quickly give out from under you. You land painfully on your knees, your arms shoot out to prevent your face from hitting the ground again. Your suppressed gasps come out in full force and it sounds like an animal is in pain. Your head hangs heavy in between your arms and you for a moment you think of just laying on the floor. Reality always trumps over illusion. The longer the seconds pass the more your gasps come out like you're being strangled. Your whole body shakes violently. The beat of your heart pumps through your shoulders, in your throat and all over your face. You feel like you can't move. Maybe you stay like this forever, stuck in this supplicating position like a disciple praying to their God for sweet salvation. Your teeth press down against each other and they ache so badly you fear you'll break them all. You need to do something. You need to stop this. Someone can't find you like this. They'll send you away again. This time for the rest of your life. A freak an ab//omination a monster that's all they'll see you as. That's all you'll ever be. You think someone will help you? You don't deserve it.// A fast strangled yell comes from your unreliable mouth. //Note: choice of vice// <hr>\ * [[You pull out your packet of cigarettes from your pocket.->Page 144]] * [[You pull out a flask from your pocket.->Page 144B]] * [[You lift up your hand and punch the floor.->Page 144C]] * [[You take out a bottle of little pills from your pocket.->Page 144D]] * [[You bear it.->Page 144E]] </h3>

<h3> Her look of concern quickly turns to scorn and she scoffs. She looks away and her face turns dispassionate, she goes back where she was. You turn and stalk out of the cafeteria, fervent whispers follow you. Once the doors slam behind you, you take a moment and begin almost sprinting to wherever your feet take you. People follow your movements as you fly by the halls and that attracts more whispers. //Why can't they all just die?// An electric current runs up and down through your body, igniting a heart that hasn't been used to pumping so hard in daylight. Mrs. Paulson is walking out from her classroom when you bump into her and send her coffee crashing against the floor. You don't stop and her voice calling your name barely registers in a mind that's overloading on too much. <<set $Nia_Rantagonism to 1>> //She isn't supposed to be here. She died.//<<audio "hopeless" loop play>> Your shoulder through a door and your legs quickly give out from under you. You land painfully on your knees, your arms shoot out to prevent your face from hitting the ground again. Your suppressed gasps come out in full force and it sounds like an animal is in pain. Your head hangs heavy in between your arms and you for a moment you think of just laying on the floor. Reality always trumps over illusion. The longer the seconds pass the more your gasps come out like you're being strangled. Your whole body shakes violently. The beat of your heart pumps through your shoulders, in your throat and all over your face. You feel like you can't move. Maybe you stay like this forever, stuck in this supplicating position like a disciple praying to their God for sweet salvation. Your teeth press down against each other and they ache so badly you fear you'll break them all. You need to do something. You need to stop this. Someone can't find you like this. They'll send you away again. This time for the rest of your life. A freak an ab//omination a monster that's all they'll see you as. That's all you'll ever be. You think someone will help you? You don't deserve it.// A fast strangled yell comes from your unreliable mouth. //Note: choice of vice// <hr>\ * [[You pull out your packet of cigarettes from your pocket.->Page 144]] * [[You pull out a little flask from your pocket.->Page 144B]] * [[You lift up your hand and punch the floor.->Page 144C]] * [[You take out a bottle of little pills from your pocket.->Page 144D]] * [[You bear it.->Page 144E]] </h3>

<h3> She looks like she wants to answer you but she just annoyingly sighs at either herself or you and goes back to her place next to Imre. You turn and stalk out of the cafeteria, fervent whispers follow you. <<set $NiaP += 1>> Once the doors slam behind you, you take a moment and begin almost sprinting to wherever your feet take you. People follow your movements as you fly by the halls and that attracts more whispers. //Why can't they all just die?// An electric current runs up and down through your body, igniting a heart that hasn't been used to pumping so hard in daylight. Mrs. Paulson is walking out from her classroom when you bump into her and send her coffee crashing against the floor. You don't stop and her voice calling your name barely registers in a mind that's overloading on too much. //She isn't supposed to be here. She died.//<<audio "hopeless" loop play>> Your shoulder through a door and your legs quickly give out from under you. You land painfully on your knees, your arms shoot out to prevent your face from hitting the ground again. Your suppressed gasps come out in full force and it sounds like an animal is in pain. Your head hangs heavy in between your arms and you for a moment you think of just laying on the floor. Reality always trumps over illusion. The longer the seconds pass the more your gasps come out like you're being strangled. Your whole body shakes violently. The beat of your heart pumps through your shoulders, in your throat and all over your face. You feel like you can't move. Maybe you stay like this forever, stuck in this supplicating position like a disciple praying to their God for sweet salvation. Your teeth press down against each other and they ache so badly you fear you'll break them all. You need to do something. You need to stop this. Someone can't find you like this. They'll send you away again. This time for the rest of your life. A freak an ab//omination a monster that's all they'll see you as. That's all you'll ever be. You think someone will help you? You don't deserve it.// A fast strangled yell comes from your unreliable mouth. //Note: choice of vice// <hr>\ * [[You pull out your packet of cigarettes from your pocket.->Page 144]] * [[You pull out a little flask from your pocket.->Page 144B]] * [[You lift up your hand and punch the floor.->Page 144C]] * [[You take out a bottle of little pills from your pocket.->Page 144D]] * [[You bear it.->Page 144E]] </h3>

<h3> That makes a flash of anger run through her eyes and she sets her mouth into a scowl. She waves you off and goes back to talk to her friends with a smirk on her face. You turn and stalk out of the cafeteria, fervent whispers follow you. Once the doors slam behind you, you take a moment and begin almost sprinting to wherever your feet take you. People follow your movements as you fly by the halls and that attracts more whispers. //Why can't they all just die?// An electric current runs up and down through your body, igniting a heart that hasn't been used to pumping so hard in daylight. Mrs. Paulson is walking out from her classroom when you bump into her and send her coffee crashing against the floor. You don't stop and her voice calling your name barely registers in a mind that's overloading on too much. <<set $Nia_Rantagonism to 1>> //She isn't supposed to be here. She died.//<<audio "hopeless" loop play>> Your shoulder through a door and your legs quickly give out from under you. You land painfully on your knees, your arms shoot out to prevent your face from hitting the ground again. Your suppressed gasps come out in full force and it sounds like an animal is in pain. Your head hangs heavy in between your arms and you for a moment you think of just laying on the floor. Reality always trumps over illusion. The longer the seconds pass the more your gasps come out like you're being strangled. Your whole body shakes violently. The beat of your heart pumps through your shoulders, in your throat and all over your face. You feel like you can't move. Maybe you stay like this forever, stuck in this supplicating position like a disciple praying to their God for sweet salvation. Your teeth press down against each other and they ache so badly you fear you'll break them all. You need to do something. You need to stop this. Someone can't find you like this. They'll send you away again. This time for the rest of your life. A freak an ab//omination a monster that's all they'll see you as. That's all you'll ever be. You think someone will help you? You don't deserve it.// A fast strangled yell comes from your unreliable mouth. //Note: choice of vice// <hr>\ * [[You pull out your packet of cigarettes from your pocket.->Page 144]] * [[You pull out a little flask from your pocket.->Page 144B]] * [[You lift up your hand and punch the floor.->Page 144C]] * [[You take out a bottle of little pills from your pocket.->Page 144D]] * [[You bear it.->Page 144E]] </h3>

<h3>With shaky fingers you hold the squished pack in your hand. You lean back and sit on the floor. You open it and take out the small lighter you stuffed in there. You've been holding onto this since the hospital. If you do the right favours to the right people it's easy to get something smuggled in there. Luckies. What your father smokes. You tap the end on your wrist and shove it in your mouth. It takes you a few tries to turn on the lighter because your fingers refuse to do what you want. You finally manage to get a flame going and bring it to the cigarette. You inhale deeply, the taste of tobacco fills your mouth and you find yourself leaning back to rest against the floor. You take the cigarette in between your fingers and blow out a steady stream of smoke to the ceiling. A sense of peace invades your being and you close your eyes to force your bones to rest. Huh, smoking a lucky and you're having the most unlucky day of your life. Or at the very least it cracks top ten. You touch your nose and a spike of pain rushes to your head. Fuck. The last thing you need is a broken nose. Especially if it's due to falling flat on your face. In all that commotion, second bell probably came and went. You think you're supposed to be in biology right now with Mr. Brown who hates your guts for an incident involving a dissected frog. <<set $vice to 'smoking'>> You tap the ash next to you on the floor and take long pleasant drags. You almost smile when you think about what Sally would think if he saw you smoking. A long lecture about cancer and healthy coping mechanisms. Percy would probably ask to bum one. You don't know how long you stay on that dirty floor but by the movement of the clouds and when the bell rings one, twice, thrice, four times it's fair to say you skipped the rest of your classes for the day. A perfect end to a perfect day. You eventually pull yourself up, dust yourself off and go look at yourself in the cracked mirror on the wall. You noticed you ran to an old bathroom. [[NEXT->Page 145]] </h3>

<h3> Clutched tightly in your hand you stare at the steely material. You push yourself back and sit properly on the floor. You try to twist the small cap off but your fingers aren't cooperating so you use your teeth. You got the flask from a discharged patient and the alcohol from the bottle in the orderlies' office. It's brandy. Your sister's favourite. You put the tip to your mouth and throw your head back. The burning liquid goes down your throat so quickly and so agonizingly good that you find yourself laying back on the ground and after a few deep gulps you lazily move it away. You swallow and feel a nice ache in your throat. <<set $vice to 'drinking'>> You lick your lips and the nerves at the tip of your tongue ignite with the bitter flavour. A sense of peace invades your being and you close your eyes to force your bones to rest. Funny, this brand is named Courage something when you've been less than courageous today. You make that crying lady from Alien look like a hero. You touch your nose and a spike of pain rushes to your head. Fuck. The last thing you need is a broken nose. Especially if it's due to falling flat on your face. In all that commotion, second bell probably came and went. You think you're supposed to be in biology right now with Mr. Brown who hates your guts for an incident involving a dissected frog. You take another swing, less hurried this time and truly try to savour what you're tasting. You laugh to yourself when you think of what Sally what think if he saw you day drinking. A long lecture about the dangers of alcoholism and cirrhosis. Percy would tell you not to hog it. You don't know how long you stay on that dirty floor but by the movement of the clouds and when the bell rings one, twice, thrice, four times it's fair to say you skipped the rest of your classes for the day. A perfect end to a perfect day. You eventually pull yourself up, dust yourself off and go look at yourself in the cracked mirror on the wall. You noticed you ran to an old bathroom. [[NEXT->Page 145]] </h3>

<h3> Your knuckles hit the ground hard and you bite your lip from screaming. A little gasp escapes your lips. Your already shaking fingers rattle painfully. You wait a few seconds and slam your fist down on the ground again. A small cry rolls out from your tongue. You've done this since the hospital, that's why you at times they would make you wear mitts. The way you punch reminds you of Percy. You hit the ground again and scream internally. You lift up your hand and see a splotch of blood on the floor. You move yourself back and sit cross-legged on the floor. You cradle your hand and look at the ripped skin on your knuckles. You press your knuckles down against the floor and roll them around to maximize the pain. <<set $vice to 'punch'>>\ After making sure you sufficiently opened up your wounds you gently rub your bleeding knuckles, mesmerized at the movement of red ruby blood smearing all over your hand. You blow air out of your nose, you can't even say you got these from defending yourself. No stories about your bravery to tell at dinner tonight. You touch your nose and a spike of pain rushes to your head. Fuck. The last thing you need is a broken nose. Especially if it's due to falling flat on your face. In all that commotion, second bell probably came and went. You think you're supposed to be in biology right now with Mr. Brown who hates your guts for an incident involving a dissected frog. You halfheartedly punch the floor again and even that sends a spike of pain up your arm. You grin when you think about the look on Sally's face if he saw what you were doing. A lecture about the horrors of self-harm and proper ways to release your anger. Percy would try to compare knuckle scars. You don't know how long you stay on that dirty floor but by the movement of the clouds and when the bell rings one, twice, thrice, four times it's fair to say you skipped the rest of your classes for the day. A perfect end to a perfect day. You eventually pull yourself up, dust yourself off and go look at yourself in the cracked mirror on the wall. You noticed you ran to an old bathroom. [[NEXT->Page 145]] </h3>

<h3> An unstable grip on the dented bottle. You sit back with your legs splayed in front of you. You try to pull off the cap but no matter which way to twist it, it won't open. You bite around the cap and it plops open. The pills Dr. Madorna gave you. You've been taking them for days, not even to sleep. They've stopped making you sleep but they do give you a nice little buzz. Your mother's method. You shake out a small little white pill onto your palm and throw your head back, you barely feel it as it slides down your dry throat. You decide to relax, your body lays down slowly on the floor. You wait the minutes it takes for the pill to do its work and you sigh relieved when you feel your head start to swim. <<set $vice to 'drugs'>> You think about taking another but not only do you have to wait until you can go to the pharmacy to get a refill but the hazy look of your surroundings gives you enough to not need it. Responsibly, that's what your doctor told you, to take them with caution not to abuse them. Everyone's threshold for caution is different. You touch your nose and a spike of pain rushes to your head. Fuck. The last thing you need is a broken nose. Especially if it's due to falling flat on your face. In all that commotion, second bell probably came and went. You think you're supposed to be in biology right now with Mr. Brown who hates your guts for an incident involving a dissected frog. Your stomach does a nice little jump, the pill is very effective at making itself known. You smile lazily up at the ceiling imagining what Sally would say if he knew you were drugging yourself. A lecture about D.A.R.E and the perils of addiction. Percy would bribe you for a few. You don't know how long you stay on that dirty floor but by the movement of the clouds and when the bell rings one, twice, thrice, four times it's fair to say you skipped the rest of your classes for the day. A perfect end to a perfect day. You eventually pull yourself up, dust yourself off and go look at yourself in the cracked mirror on the wall. You noticed you ran to an old bathroom. [[NEXT->Page 145]] </h3>

<h3> You grunt and try to recall all those tips you were given about situations like this. Most of the things you were told at the hospital were bullshit but you found that if you focused on physical sensations you could overcome whatever these episodes were. You hear your own voice directing you coldly on what to do. A solution Sally would do. It takes all the strength your trembling body has to lift your head up and focus on your surroundings. Light, there's light from a dusty window. You think about how the light feels on your eyes. You move your fingers against the floor, feeling how the smoothness rubs against your fingers. You inhale deeply the smells around you. <<set $vice to 'relax'>> It smells like sawdust, mold, sweat and old. You listen carefully to the silence in this room with you. The only undercurrent to it is the slowing down of your heartbeat. Unfairly, you're in control here the way you haven't entirely been throughout the day. It's not easy to master your reactions to external stimuli. You touch your nose and a spike of pain rushes to your head. Fuck. The last thing you need is a broken nose. Especially if it's due to falling flat on your face. In all that commotion, second bell probably came and went. You think you're supposed to be in biology right now with Mr. Brown who hates your guts for an incident involving a dissected frog. You move your tongue around your mouth, it doesn't take like anything but it tells you that your mouth is there, you're here. You sigh as you can imagine what Sally would think if he knew this. He would be so proud but not understand why can't you just ignore the things that make you have to do this. Percy would crack a joke about how he always knew you were an alien trying to be human. You don't know how long you stay on that dirty floor but by the movement of the clouds and when the bell rings one, twice, thrice, four times it's fair to say you skipped the rest of your classes for the day. A perfect end to a perfect day. You eventually pull yourself up, dust yourself off and go look at yourself in the cracked mirror on the wall. You noticed you ran to an old bathroom. [[NEXT->Page 145]] </h3>

<h3>You wipe the grime off the mirror and peer into it. Your nose is red and clearly swollen but it doesn't look broken. Your eyes are dry, not unusual you've never cried for anything. But they look tired and sullen. You rub your cheeks and try to turn the sink tap. A weird noise comes from the spout and a trickle of brown liquid lands in the sink before nothing. Piss poor public school piping. You rub at the spot of stain on your clothes over your chest but it's dried. <<audio "hopeless" stop>> You tsk and leave that old bathroom with its horrible memory behind. Like it never happened. When you find a clock in the hallway it tells you it's half past 3, school's been over for more than an hour. The halls feel less like torture when no one is around to look at you like you've grown two additional heads. When you arrive at your locker you see a nice spray-painted word in yellow presumably for school spirit. 'KILLER.' A nice way to end the day. You try to rub it off but it just smears over your hands instead. You slam the locker open, roughly grab your $holder and slam it shut, not caring if it doesn't lock. You pass Mrs. Paulson's classroom and you remind yourself you need to go to the library to find a copy of Inferno. The school library is the nicest place in the school, all thanks to Imre's father who donated funds for it four years ago at his son's request. It even has a computer. A hulking thing you have no idea how to even turn on, and the concept of the World Wide Web alludes you. It's also the only place in the entire school that doesn't smell like mold or sweat. Nor does it have the harsh fluorescent lighting. When you used to go to school here, you would spend much of your time in the library since no one else did. Ms. Frida is snoring with her face down on the front desk when you enter. You quietly walk past her and to the stacks of books on the large mahogany bookcases. Under the section marked 'FOREIGN POETRY' you bend down to start searching from the bottom. [[NEXT->Page 146]] </h3>

<h3> As you finger through the books you see at the edge of your vision a pair of shoes, for a moment you get a flash of discomfort at the thought they could be those pink Mary Jane's. You take a fast peek and they're men's shoes. Italian leather you would say. The kind the men in your family wear. You sigh and keep browsing the books, “if you came here to kick me when I'm down do it quick because I need to get home soon.” “I think you've been kicked far too much today,” he says. You look up. He's smiling down at you. “Imre.” “$name.” You stand up and you both stare at each other directly in the eyes. The only sound being Ms. Frida's light snoring. You both observe each other, the type of observation between two predators circling each other, not yet ready to pounce but watching to see who makes the first move. His eyes travel down from your face to your chest and you're about to say something about his audacity but you look down to see he's looking at the big stain on your clothes. He catches you looking and he straightens up with a lazy smile on his face that for some reason you feel should be a frown. “You didn't go to biology,” he states. “How do you know I have biology?” you ask. “I'm in your class.” “Oh.” He doesn't say anything and you continue to stare at each other. His smile slips into an expression of neutrality. [[NEXT->Page 147]] </h3>

<h3> You don't know what he's doing. It's Imre's style to talk on and on, it's either he likes the sound of his voice or he hates silence. It seems like he's waiting for you to say something. You break eye contact and make a perfunctory effort to look at the spines of the books for Dante's name. “Looking for something?” his voice interrupts you. Without looking back you say “yes. Inferno by Dante or the Divine Comedy as a whole would be good too but I can't see it.” “Oh, that? Lorcan checked it out, I bumped into him as he was leaving the library“ he replies. You shoot him a look “and there's only one copy in this library?” He quickly raises his eyebrows up and down “it's not well stocked. Students deface the books and some just never bring them back. Doesn't your father have many books in his library?” “Yeah but he buys books in their original language to make people think he's a polyglot“ you explain. You make a humming noise and balance yourself on your heels “well... I guess I should be going now.” You turn to leave. “Wait $name“ Imre says. You look back and your eyes go down to his hand that's hovering over your arm. He looks down too and snatches it back. He crosses his arms and asks “are you still interested in the missing girls?” You slightly squint your eyes “why?” He nods “because I'd like to help you if I can.” [[NEXT->Page 148]] </h3>

<h3> You back up to truly get a look at him. His posture is relaxed and open. You don't know if that's by design. Of course, he mimics you. Examining you too. But his face remains the same as if he doesn't want you to know he knows what you're both doing. “Why do you need my help? You're Imre Duran“ you say to try and distract his wandering eyes. It's all cold, analytical. He chuckles “that's not as powerful as you think. The name Duran can only open so many doors, like Crown.” “These disappearances aren't new. Why haven't I heard you do more? Why haven't you talked to me before?” you inquire. He shrugs “they're not exactly on the front page are they? And with all due respect, you aren't the most sociable person.” You roll your lips and look at the shelves to give yourself time to think of what to say. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I guess some help wouldn't hurt.”->Page 149]] * [[♡ “I don't need you.”->Page 149B]] * [[⟡ “It doesn't sound like a bad idea.”->Page 149C]] * [[“I don't know.”->Page 149D]] </h3>

<h3> A little voice in your head protests this. A pinch of doubt courses through you reminding you that you don't know Imre that well and that no one has ever been so willingly nice and eager to help you without anything in exchange. But you push those thoughts away. <<set $ImreRF += 1>> His face breaks into a wide smile that crinkles his eyes. You never noticed this but he has dimples. He takes a few steps towards you until he's there's barely any space between your chests. “Good“ he says while maintaining his good mood “as a show of good faith I'll tell you something I know. Stephanie Burrows' family didn't file a missing persons report.” You try to not get distracted by his close proximity and focus on his words but it's a bit hard when the warmth of his body radiates toward you. It almost makes your head swim. You shake it off. “What? Why? How long was she missing for?” He laughs like you just said a joke “that's the problem, isn't it? Because they never filed one no one knows how long she was missing for, the closest consensus I've gotten from asking around the school is that she was supposed to go to a party a week before she was found but she didn't even call to say she wasn't coming.” You scrunch your nose up at that. You wonder how decayed her body was when they found her. Imre is paying close attention to your face, likely trying to figure out what you're thinking. For some reason, you can't name you don't tell him that you want to see her body. You watch as his blue eyes slowly climb down your face to your collarbone. He whispers something in Spanish. When you touch your collarbone his eyes slowly climb up again. “Ok“ you reply. “Ok?” You left up your hands in a question “it's ok. We'll just need to get organized and start digging. Maybe there's something in common with her and the other missing girls, and those that are not“ //like your sister.// [[NEXT->Page 150]] </h3>

<h3> There's something about him, in his smile, in his eyes, even in the way he stands that makes me suspicious. Why is it that while everyone else seems not to care about any of this he does? Why is he trying to get closer to you? A small part of you questions whether you're being fair but no one has ever been nice to you without a reason. His smile drops a bit on one end and he blinks several times as if not comprehending what you said. He saunters slowly and measuredly towards you until you're almost pressed chest to chest.<<set $ImreRA += 1>> His smile looks a bit false now and his sweet tone seems rather mocking “actually I think you do. Unless you know that Stephanie Burrows' family never filed a police report.” You grind your teeth together at that smug look on his face and your shoulders jerk with the impulse to shove him away from you. Though that would require you touching his chest. His broad chest that runs so warm it's heating yours up. You quirk an eyebrow “Why the hell not? How long was she gone for, for them not to do that?” He laughs like you just said a joke “that's the problem, isn't it? Because they never filed one no one knows how long she was missing for, the closest consensus I've gotten from asking around the school is that she was supposed to go to a party a week before she was found but she didn't even call to say she wasn't coming.” You scrunch your nose up at that. You wonder how decayed her body was when they found her. Imre is paying close attention to your face, likely trying to figure out what you're thinking. You don't want to tell him that you want to see her corpse. You find his eyes have wandered to your chest again, his eyes move from left to right and he mutters something in Spanish. You cross your arms and he almost smirks but hides it with a neutral expression and looks back into your eyes. “Ok“ you grumble. “Ok?” You roll your eyes “yeah 'ok.' Fine you know more than me. I can't stop you from digging into all this with me but don't think about withholding things from me.” [[NEXT->Page 150]] </h3>

<h3> You don't fully trust Imre Duran. There's something strange about him. You can't put your finger on it but whatever it is it prevents you from feeling entirely comfortable in his presence and accepting his help. But it'd be stupid to not take advantage of help when it's advantageous.<<set $ImreP += 1>> His expression softens and he takes a step toward you but not so close that he's invading your personal space. His kind face does look sincere at this moment at least. “I'm glad you agree $name“ he runs a hand through his hair “to start us off I think you should know that Stephanie Burrows' family never filed a missing persons report.” You start at that. You look towards the shelves and think about what that could mean. That makes no sense. Unless Stephanie's family hated her there would be no reason for them not to do anything. With a confused look, you say “why wouldn't they? Is she a habitual runaway and they thought would come back?” He clicks his tongue “apparently she was a normal girl. Because they never filed one no one knows how long she was missing for, the closest consensus I've gotten from asking around the school is that she was supposed to go to a party a week before she was found but she didn't even call to say she wasn't coming.” You scrunch your nose up at that. If you could only see her body, to see how decayed it's gotten being outside for god knows how long. You don't tell Imre your thoughts. “Ok.” “Ok?” You shrug “yes that's the best I can say. The two of us will need to keep at it then, maybe look into the other girls.” [[NEXT->Page 150]] </h3>

<h3> On the one hand Imre is a valuable ally to have and on the other, you're not used to working with strangers. Because that is what Imre is no matter if you two have known each other since childhood. Someone so popular wanting to help you does raise your alarm bells. He looks taken aback like he didn't expect that answer. He seems unsure and he seems to be thinking of what to say. “May I ask why?” he sounds a bit irritated when he speaks “if you need proof I can provide that.” You cross your arms over your chest “what proof?” There's a glint in his eyes and he stands tall, that momentary falter in his person gone “you can see why I can't readily offer that information if you're unsure about working with me.” You roll your eyes to the ceiling and weigh the pros and cons of saying yes before huffing and saying “alright. Fine. You win. I accept. Now tell me.” A smirk breaks out on his face “Stephanie Burrows' family never filed a police report.” Your eyebrows knit together “that's very strange.” He assents with his head “it is. Because they never filed one no one knows how long she was missing for, the closest consensus I've gotten from asking around the school is that she was supposed to go to a party a week before she was found but she didn't even call to say she wasn't coming.” You scrunch your nose up at that. There must be some way you could get a hold of her corpse. That sounds so weird you don't tell Imre. “Ok.” “Ok?” You give a tired look “we need more to go on. Try to figure out more and I'll do the same on my end.” [[NEXT->Page 150]] </h3>

<h3> You point your finger behind you, “so I need to go. If you have anything new to tell me just call my home telephone it's in the phonebook.” His eyes flick back to the stain and he looks up again, “you don't own a pager?” You make a face, “they don't really give us fancy new technology in the psych ward.” He nods and shoves his hands back in his trousers, “I'll be in contact in case of anything. Be seeing you $name.” His cheek quirks slightly. He looks triumphant and you've seen that look in his eyes with other people. This is what he wanted. You move to leave when he says, “would you like to come to my Halloween party?” Your eyebrows raise so far up your head you think they might be touching your hairline, “you're inviting me to your party?” “Of course I am. I've never had the chance to ask you. I know it's more than a month away but this gives you time to think of a costume, that is if you want to come,” he says jovially. You don't know what to say. Your first reaction is to decline but before you can move your facial muscles to say that he holds up a hand “you don't have to answer now, like I said it's still a while away but if it sways your answer in any way, I'd like you there and I know Nia would too.” You bristle, your doubt surfacing again with the idea that he's trying to manipulate you. He waves goodbye to you. You walk away and when you glance back through the glass window of the library he's messaging someone on his pager. [[NEXT->Page 151]] </h3>

<h3> When you walk out into the cool crispy air there's only a few cars parked in the parking lot and none in front of the school. It's odd that Sally wouldn't send Arthur to come for you since he's been so worried about you walking around town alone, especially by the woods. <<audio "gothic" loop play>> You huff and hoist your heavy $holder up. Might as well begin walking since it'll take you the better part of an hour to get home and the sunset is always a dark affair that starts early. There's three ways you can take home. The first being cutting through the woods. It's faster but it's the easiest place where whatever or whoever would take someone. You're not scared of death but you aren't actively looking for it either. The second option is through town which does take longer but it's safer. Although you'll run into a lot of people who will likely stare as much as anyone has today. Would you risk another option and possible death to not socialize? Lastly, it's going along the lake that surrounds the entire town. It's the middle road between the other two choices and while it's a safe bet because it's in view of other people the lake is a rather tricky thing. It likes slipping people. <hr>\ * [[Take the woods.->Page 152]] * [[Take the town.->Page 152B]] * [[Take the lake.->Page 152C]] </h3>

<h3> While the woods in most sections of the town seem claustrophobic, being so strong and packed closely together that many times one has to squeeze between two trunks, it's not all like that. Sometimes the trees allow you to breathe between them and even move their leaves to allow all the daylight to shine down on the ground. Ever since you could remember the townies have said to their children that they shouldn't ever play in the woods. Or at the very least keep themselves within the tree line. In the 40s people reported how between the hours of 6pm and 8pm a clown in tattered colourful clothing and running makeup would try to beckon children to come into the woods with him. About 15 years ago a little boy got lost in there and when he reappeared 5 years later he hadn't aged a day nor looked worse for wear. He said he had only been gone for an hour per his watch. For one day in 1907, the trees all turned white and anytime someone touched they were stuck to the trunk until the next day when they had reverted back to their original colours. Someone once placed bear traps along the treeline and Percy nearly lost his foot. Then there's the fact that if your pet runs into the woods you're never getting it back alive. If skin isn't found it's usually their collars. That's why strays aren't allowed to exist in this town. You walk as near to the road as you can, few cars passing you. Along the way, you pass Mr. Ewekes' house which you could only describe as a hut-like thing that always wafts a putrid smell of cheese. He sits in front of his house, rocking himself on his chair with a mug of steaming something balanced on his knee. He nods to you. [[NEXT->Page 153]] </h3>

<h3> Although it's true that not much money is going into public buildings, little family-owned businesses are still doing well for themselves. Main Street is the closest the town can get to a 50s picturesque postcard, there's no litter and the planted trees are always blooming with yellow flowers. The smell of freshly baked cookies prevails here. There's Darla's Dairy Kingdom which a series of Darla's has been in charge of since 1899. It's a two-storey white building with pink trimmings and painted windows of King Rocky Road eating ice cream would might be considered a form of cannibalism. Frederico's Pizzeria, a brick-and-mortar building that has burned down about 12 times but miraculously every 7th day after a fire the building is back up and running like new. No one works there and no one even knows who Frederico is, you just say your order at the counter and the second you look away from the table your order appears in front of you. The Candy store which is managed by a series of hooded figures with blue skin and long fingernails who stock the store with all kinds of careful candy from around the world, although some of it is so old spiders have made little homes. Dreams as required payment. You walk among the people sitting outside the coffee shops, riding their bikes, children roughhousing in the middle of the sidewalk. You do get the occasional glance, some whispers and in one instance a child freezes in his place as you come up to him. His mother drags him away, throwing you a resentful look. As you're passing in front of Tina's Taxidermy a woman almost glides into you as rushes out of the door screaming. Tina herself comes to stand in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. She sees you and sighs. [[NEXT->Page 153B]] </h3>

<h3> The lake has an odd history. The story goes that your ancestor, Josiah, first of a long line of Josiahs, was on the brink of death and that at the final hour, he stumbled onto this lake and that saved his life. It's said he was so grateful that he decided to build a town in the middle of it. At least that's one version of the story. The lake itself used to be a safer place to swim in but in recent years people find themselves getting easily tangled within its depths. Some say it's just plants that wrap around their ankles, but others claim they swear they felt icy-cold fingers dig into their skin. The surface of the lake is deathly still, you try to skip a rock in and it merely sinks into the darkness beneath. The water is so murky that merely holding your hand a few inches beneath the water makes it disappear. Oddly enough it's been tested and they say it's perfectly healthy water. There's a picture in the local library taken in 1929 of a dark and smudged figure standing upright in the water with a plaque above it saying it's a mermaid. Completely fictitious. If anything sirens are thought to be in these waters. There was a student who went to your high school and every day dipped back into the lake. As you walk near the edge, over green grass and the occasional fallen leaf you come upon Asia Finley, a regular fisherperson. The best in town, they sell their fish to the fish and chips place on Main Street. <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>Everyone looks at them weird because they correct people when you try to call them a woman. That's not the most common around here. There are those who call them, a girl out of spite.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>Everyone looks at them weird because they correct people when you try to call them a woman. That's not the most common around here. There are those who call them, a girl out of spite.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>Everyone looks at them weird because they correct people when you try to call them a woman. That's not the most common around here. There are those who call them, a girl out of spite.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>Everyone looks at them weird because they correct people when you try to call them a woman. That's not the most common around here. There are those who call them, a girl out of spite.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you have never thought that matters and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>Everyone looks at them weird because they correct people when you try to call them a woman. That's not the most common around here. There are those who call them, a girl out of spite. You remember when you heard their belief, you thought you were the only one.<</if>> Their eyes snap to you and then back to the water, their eyes peering in as if trying to see something. “Hey $name Crown.” You move to stand beside them and look at the direction they're looking at. “Their name is Anemone and they told me they never wanted to see me again.” [[NEXT->Page 153C]] </h3>

<h3> “Where have you been little Crown? I swear I haven't seen you since '92“ he says in a gruff voice. You stop walking and turn to face him, squinting to see him as the smell makes your eyes water. “That's because you haven't seen me since '92 Mr. Ewekes.” He nods and takes a sip of his mug. He makes a face and swallows thickly. “Do you know anything about mice?” he asks you. You shrug “just the basic facts of what anyone could know about mice.” You hear a banging sound from inside his house and he turns back to look into the ripped screen door. “Well I've tried to call that business of Barry's to come and see about them but they never answer, the taped message thingy always says they're backlogged“ he turns back to look at you. <hr>\ * [[“That sucks.”->Page 154A]] * [[“And why are you telling me this?”->Page 154B]] * [[You nod.->Page 154C]] </h3>

<h3> “I hope your mice problem is fixed soon.” “Do ya think you can come and help me?” Your eyebrows droop and you look from him to his door and the thought of actually going in there with that overwhelming scent of cheese makes your stomach turn. “I don't think I could do much, I've never dealt with a mice problem“ you say kindly. He takes another sip and makes the same disgusted face “two heads are better than one. All those other kids in this town are lazy, mean and selfish. They don't even say 'hi' when they see me.” You look at the sky, it's getting dark. “It'll think about it Mr. Ewekes“ you say unconfidentally. You say goodbye and quicken your speed, trying to outrun the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> “No offence Mr. Ewekes but what the fuck can I do about this?” “Well ya can help me kid.” Your growl beneath your breath and squint at the door to try and see anything inside that square screen but it's like a black hole. “I'm just a teenager, and I don't have aspirations to be the town exterminator“ you comment. His lip twists as he once again takes another sip “you should think more of your future little Crown. It'll put you above all these good-for-nothing kids who speed their days listening to that MTV.” The night is fast approaching. “Whatever you say Mr. Ewekes, I gotta bounce“ you say without much enthusiasm. You depart without a goodbye and quicken your pace to try and outrun the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> Unsure of how any of this has to do with you. “Kid, do ya think ya could come over one of these days and help?” Your tired eyes drag themselves to look into the darkness of the doorway that denies your vision access to see what's inside. “I don't- what? You think I could help you?” you ask entirely surprised someone would ask for your help. He gurgles on the hot liquid he keeps drinking “why not? You have two hands don't ya? Don't tell me you're like those other kids who spend their time listening to that loud screaming on the radio from those long-haired bastards in Seattle?” Instead of answering you take note that the sky is quickly changing colours. “Yeah, um, I'll see you later Mr. Ewekes.” You wave once and then power-walk your way down the road trying to see if you can outrun the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> To avoid being too near to the trees you walk in the middle of the road. Your ears are perfectly attuned to the sounds around you in case a car comes. The setting sun bathes you in warm colours but what feels like a comfort is actually a warning that you don't have much time. That's what you get for stopping and talking to people. Just when you think your day can't possibly get any worse from behind you you hear a short of clicking sound that sounds like the type of a bike makes when you let it move without pedalling. You continue to walk and keep your $holder close, hoping it's not someone here to rob you or worse. The person arrives next to you and slows down the back slightly. When you look at him in the dying light and you mumble, “so my day can get worse.” Lorcan slowly bikes alongside you, “did you say something?” “It's been a long day. Just say what you need to say and leave me be I'm running on fumes here,“ you reply. “Who shat in your cereal? Oh! Let me rephrase that. Who tripped you in the cafeteria at lunch?” he says with a sneer. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I really don't want to fight.”->Page 156]] * [[♡ “You shat in my cereal, Lorcan.”->Page 156B]] * [[⟡ You refuse to take the bait.->Page 156C]] </h3>

<h3> “Guess the rumours are true then? You're back. What more fitting way than hearing a scream as a welcome back“ she says annoyed. You look to see the screaming woman sprinting down the street, she elbows an older man in the face and just keeps running. “Yeah I guess.” She looks back inside, sighs again and closes the door behind her as she takes a step down onto the short cement stairs. “I did everything to prevent the disease from coming for them...” she trails off. You look through the storefront window and all you see are the taxidermy pieces strewn all about the surfaces. “To who?” you ask. She looks at you incredulously as if you said the most stupidest thing “the goddamn animals of course?!“ You look at the stuffed animals again and see nothing amiss. <hr>\ * [[“Ohhh. Sorry.”->Page 154AA]] * [[“What the fuck?”->Page 154BB]] * [[You give her a strange look.->Page 154CC]] </h3>

<h3> “I didn't know dead animals could still get sick.” “Yeah well they do. Since you're here I guess you could help.” You move your head down and squint hard, trying to see any signs of decay or movement but truly you don't know what a diseased taxidermy animal looks like. “I don't know anything about taxidermy Tina. I think someone in a similar field would be better suited“ you say nicely. She runs her hands through her hair and decides to gather it into a bun “you aren't my first choice but the veterinarian told me they couldn't do anything. I'm not asking for your help because I think you're an expert, I'm asking because you don't seem scared.” The sky being reflected in the window tells you, you should be going “I'll get back to you on that“ you say already walking away. You're sure you won't be able to outrun the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> “What the hell are you talking about?” “The. Animals. Are. Sick. $name. You know what? You're going to help me.” You scoff and move to stand closer to the window, you press your face near the glass and cup your eyes but it's not even if you know what you're looking for. “Well ''excuse'' me but last I heard I don't fucking work for you and since you haven't mentioned payment you're insane if you think I'm doing this for free“ you say rudely. She blows at a piece of hair that falls over her eye but all it does is momentarily lift to fall back to its original place “no offence $name but you here in an official capacity wouldn't be good for business. The reason I want your help is because you're the only person I know wouldn't piss their pants.” You move away from the window and see the darkening clouds of the sunset “yeah, yeah, yeah, I have no time for this“ and you leave her without another word. Fuck, you won't make it in time for sundown. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> You don't know how dead, clean things could get sick. “Well for lack of a better choice, I guess you'll do.” You look her up and down. You then tilt your head as your eyes roam the workshop, staring into all those beady eyes. They look ok to you but again you have no idea what any of this is. “Um. What? Why would I- I'll literally not do. How...?” you stutter, something that's rather inconvenient when you're trying to decline something. She grabs two long pieces of hair at the sides of her face and tucks them behind her ears “well you're a person, with working motor skills, it's really the most basic help I need. Additionally, I know you won't run out of here screaming like the others.” The top of the storefront window is bathed in the intense dying colours of the day “oh, shit. Um, I really need to go. Bye Tina!“ You throw a wave behind you and almost start jogging as a futile gesture to try and win against the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> They look at you, “ran into Arthur on his way out of town, and told me he was picking you up from Winchester.” Keeping your eyes trained on the obsidian coloured water you reply, “yes. I've been here for a few days. I'm coming from school.” You see them nod at the edge of your periphery. They bend down and lightly trace the surface of the water with their forefinger, “I can imagine how that's been. I've had a bad day too. Anemone broke up with me again.” You bend down to pick up a leaf and lay it on the water. Both of you watch as it slowly glides away. “I'm guessing they live down there?” you ask. They nod sadly and create a heart in the water, “we've been on and off for about four years now. They say this time it's definite.” The leaf sinks into the cold depths and Asia pulls their finger out of the water. <hr>\ * [[“Love is tricky.”->Page 154AAA]] * [[“Well don't look at me.”->Page 154BBB]] * [[You hum.->Page 154CCC]] </h3>

<h3> “That's what they say in the movies at least.” “Yes, it is. If it's not too much to ask, could you help with my tricky love?” You look at their face and although their profile is the thing only that's visible to you, you can see how their eyes glisten. “I don't really know anything about relationships, Asia. Also, I don't know how your partner would take it if I were to meddle,” you say politely. They bring their forefinger back to the water and trace a small 'A.' “They might not be happy about it but I just don't know what to do anymore and they don't know either so maybe we need an outsider's advice.” The scene around you is darkening. You stand up and dust yourself off, “I promise you I'll get back to you on an answer“ you nod to them and move further away from the edge of the lake as you pick up speed hopefully, you can still beat the sun. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> “I have no fucking clue how to seduce a... whatever your partner is.” “I don't think you do, that's not why I ask. I guess I just need some advice.” You stare at them but they're looking away from you. However, you can see their cheek tremble. “Look, do I look like a couples therapist? Do I give that energy off? Because please tell me I do because I'll have to make some changes,” you say almost annoyed. They hover their hand over the water, as if they were refraining themself from caressing the surface. “Please? I don't need you to play at being Ricky Lake. I think that maybe if someone neutral acts as a mediator it could help us.” The trees surrounding you are blurring together in a black mass. You stand up and adjust your $holder, “I have more important places to be and you should too,” without caring about their response you quickly walk along the lake. You're positive you have a likely chance to make it home before complete sundown. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3> You're not sure you're the best person to come for these types of things. “If it's not too much trouble, I would like your help.” You glance at them and they glance at you and you can see how wet the folds beneath their eyes are. You shake your head and graciously say “I really don't think that's a good idea. I don't know the first thing about relationships. What if I mess up?” They immerse both their hands into the water as if by that way they reach their lover and bring them forth “you can't say anything worse than what I've said and they said to me. Just tell me you'll think about it.” You see your breath blowing in front of your face “uh, Asia, I really can't stay. See you around!“ you throw out a random parting word and quickly step along the lake, you aim to make it on time before the sun does. [[NEXT->Page 155]] </h3>

<h3>“I've gone through enough today. I'm tired. My $holder is heavy. My feet kind of hurt. Could you reschedule this to another day?” you say graciously. He takes a peek at you and roams around all those areas of yourself you just mentioned. His bored expression makes you deflate slightly. You prefer when he's angry because at least then his eyes ignite when they land on you, “since when do I take requests from you? The whole point of me hating your guts is that I like to torture your existence.” You close your eyes and audibly sigh as you keep walking. “Anyway that isn't my only mission today, I actually came to show you this,“ he waves a book in front of your face and you lightly move it aside. “Given who you are I'm presuming you took that specifically to irritate me,“ you say to him. He shrugs, “maybe I just like Infairno.”<<set $LorcanRF += 1>> You side-eye him and bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, “what did you call it?” You must sound like you're about to laugh because he narrows his eyes, “one, you say you don't want to fight but you provoke me and two, shut up.” You manage not to smile by rolling your lips, “you're right, my bad. You just said it wrong is all.” He bristles at your attempt to be fair and tucks the book under his armpit. “So... do you have Orla's necklace yet?” <hr>\ * [[“I told you I don't know.”->Page 157]] * [[“Hamlet.”->Page 157B]] * [[You don't respond.->Page 157C]] </h3>

<h3>“You make it your fucking life's mission to shit in my cereal every fucking time you see me Lorcan. Today, tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that because you're a fucking loser,“ you spit. He side-eyes you hard and by the movement of his jaw, you can see he's grinding his teeth incredibly hard. You try to ignore the thrill tingling up your spine in knowing you can rile him up so easily. You won't admit that you might've missed this in the milieu of the hospital. “Me? A loser? I'm not the one everyone says is fucking my brother Crown.” You grip your leg tightly before you can smack him. “Whatever. I actually sacrificed my time to come and see you for this,“ he shoves a book in front of your face and you hit it away from you. “Oh you're soooo original. Whatever shall I do without a bookkk you reeealllyyy got me,“ you ridicule him. <<set $LorcanRA += 1>> He grunts, “for your fucking information I actually like infresno so I'll enjoy myself while you fail English.” A laugh rumbles up from your chest and you throw your head back as the sounds escape your mouth, “you goddamn idiot!“ He pushes you away from him with one hand, “go shove a broom up your ass Crown.” You keep laughing and have to wipe away your tears, “you know your stupidity actually made my day a whole lot better.” He inhales sharply through his nose and shoves the book under his armpit. “You got the necklace or not dumbass?” <hr>\ * [[“I told you I don't know.”->Page 157]] * [[“Hamlet.”->Page 157B]] * [[You don't respond.->Page 157C]] </h3>

<h3> You move your tongue in your mouth, underneath your lip and refuse to even look at him. You don't walk faster but you don't slow down to give him the idea you want to fight with him either. He peers at you and then looks forward, you can't see the exact expression on his face but knowing him he's probably irritated you don't seem to be interested in getting into it with him. “So you're not going to talk eh? I don't give a shit, not hearing your voice is actually good for me Crown.” You walk with determined but measured steps, your shoulders arm straight and set back. “Ugh, fuck you. I just came here to let you see something,“ he dangles a book above your head and you do your best to not react. You bit your tongue from saying anything even though a part of you wants to tell him either in a good way or a bad way that he sucks. “Yep, yep, yep I'm going to really have a good ass time reading Enfarno,” he says with a light tone. Your eyebrows raise and you shake your head, not even bothering to hide your reaction. He glares at you, “what's the fucking headshake for?” You sigh and just lift up your hands in a 'what can you do' look. He clenches his fist for a second before shoving the book under his armpit. “Since you're now practicing to be a mime could you signal to me if you have what I asked you for at that shitty party?” <hr>\ * [[“I told you I don't know.”->Page 157]] * [[“Hamlet.”->Page 157B]] * [[You don't respond.->Page 157C]] </h3>

<h3> “How many times... look in the Crown hierarchy I am below the servants, understand? I'm the last to know about everything and more when I've been away for so long“ you say fatigued. “Jesus calm down. It was only a question. Fine, you don't have it but you could make yourself useful and search“ he doesn't say this lightly. You snort and just shake your head. “At any point were you going to tell me you gave Orla that necklace?” He moves the steering handles around, parading around in a curling path, your question not showing any visible reaction “didn't think I need to tell you shit. Answer me this, if I had told you I had given to her would you have actually tried to look for it?” When you don't answer, he does, “fucking right.” You two walk in silence for a few minutes, the silence interrupted be the crunching of your shoes on the small debris on the road and the clicking wheels of Lorcan's bike. You once move to opposing sides when a car comes down the road. It's almost entirely dark now, the sky's only remnant of day being a minimizing line on the horizon. “You know I don't care if you live or die but it would look bad if you died after being seen with me so don't be stupid and go into the woods at this hour“ he says out of the blue. “I wasn't planning on it“ you reply and think before adding “by the looks of it the woods are more dangerous than ever, especially with what happened with Stephanie.” He glances at you, his eyes almost swallowed by the darkness. “You aren't slick. You wanna know if I know anything“ he snaps. <hr>\ * [[“Did you know her at all?”->Page 158]] * [[“How long have girls been dying?”->Page 158B]] * [[“Does that have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> “To quote the Danish prince in Act Three, Scene Three, line 87... no“ you answer with a shit-eating grin. “You're such a pretentious brat. No wonder you have no friends. Instead of reading books by dead white men, you should try to find it“ he orders. “Yeah sure and after that I'll give a foot massage, oh and maybe a nice little soup! Would you like that? What about-“ as you keep going down the list of all the things you'd do he mutters a series of murder methods. After you've explained in excuriating detail the spa house you'll build for him you switch topics and remark “so you want me to do you a favour and you weren't even planning to tell me you're the one who gave her that necklace.” He lets go of the steering handles, puts the book on his lap and lifts up his arms to try and balance himself, he acts as if hadn't heard you at all. “Ok and how is that important? Any talk about my relationship with Orla would get you to projectile vomit and the last I want is your stupid opinion on our relationship.” You stare at him when you realize he talks about his and Orla's relationship in the present tense. Oddly enough you both let the jabs and insults die and walk in silence along the road. The clicking of his wheels syncing with your footsteps. There's only one car that comes barreling down the road and you both separate to opposite sides of the road. Most of the sky is dark now, a sliver of orange light dying on the horizon. “I don't like to spend my fucking time talking to pigs so if could not go into the woods tonight after being seen with me that'll be great, do something nice for once“ he blurts out. “I'm not a dumbass“ you scoff and decide to blurt out “so... is everyone saying that because of that Stephanie?” His head snaps in your direction but you can't make out the look in his eyes in the night. “Yeah good one Sherlock. I can smell your bullshit from a mile away“ he hisses. <hr>\ * [[“Did you know her at all?”->Page 158]] * [[“How long have girls been dying?”->Page 158B]] * [[“Does that have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> You suck on your lip. Ridiculous that he asks you this after you've told him over and over again that you don't have it. Just a series of repeated questions and answers and the same cycle of conversations.<<set $pathfour to true>> “You're really not going to talk? Or you don't know how to because they fucked with your brain that much in psycho central?” he asks and when you don't answer that he grips the steering handles so hard you can hear the black plastic around them squeak. “You know what? Fine! I have better things to do than try to get anything useful out of a stupid nutcase“ he growls and quickly jerks the handles to the right, turning the bike around and riding back into town. ''Are you sure you don't want to go back? Pick another option? You're missing a book and some important information.'' ''It will also change the beginning of Episode 3. That isn't always a bad thing though.'' [[''If you're sure, press here to continue on.''->Page 160D]] </h3>

<h3> “I heard she was in our grade,“ you say by way of explaining your question. He maintains his attention forward on the road and a few beats pass before replying “I didn't know her that much.” You internally sigh as you reach another dead end with Stephanie. “But Orla did.” Your head snaps in her direction and a series of questions tumble from unbidden from your lips, “How? When? Where? Percy said she might've known her but I wasn't sure-“ Lorcan lifts up his hand, “woah! Calm your ass down! You're not going to Detective Ringwald me.” When you close your mouth he lowers his hand and then quirks his eyebrow at you, at least that's what you think without any light source “you talked to Percy about this?” You wave his question off and ask, “did she know her intimately? Or like just as teammates on the cheerleading team?” The darkness is so overwhelming you can only see the outline of his face, framed by his shaggy hair. It sends a discomforting feeling shooting through your chest. “Crown, she would come over to your house.” Now it's your turn to stare at him, “what? When?” He shrugs, “I don't know. A few times over the years. One time I got there and she was in Orla's room, talking about whatever girls talk about.” Your eyebrows press together and you try to shift through your blurry memories but can't seem to recall any singular one involving Stephanie. “You really don't remember her?” he asks. You shake your head at him and the memories. He probably has it wrong. <hr>\ * [[“How long have girls been dying?”->Page 158B]] * [[“Does this have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> “The posters all over that wall at the police station go back decades, and doesn't it seem really weird that it's only girls that are being taken?” you say. He clicks his tongue a few times to make a beat and moves his head in time, “you must be really naive if you think anyone in this town gives a shit about anyone else. Hey, at the very least it's all equal, a missing girl can be poor or rich and everyone ignores it the same.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood to hear about the rampant classism that pervades the town. Being rich or poor you'd still be plagued with the same issues you are now. “Though until two years something changed, more girls began disappearing but the weirdest thing is none of their parents ever reported them missing until like two weeks after they were gone and that was due to pressure from the school“ he adds. Just like Stephanie and her family. Did people care so little about anything that this also extended to their own children? “How do you know all that?” He rubs his hair to shag it out more, “on the poor side of town we all talk to each other. Many of us clean your people's houses, and we hear things. All we're hoping for is that none of our people are taken.” “If you care so much you should try to do something about it then,“ you suggest. Lorcan snorts derisively, “yeah right. I got my own shit to deal with, if their parents don't care I'm not going to.” You also got your own shit to deal with. Which begs the question, why do you care so much? <hr>\ * [[You're bored.->Page 158B1]] * [[You empathize.->Page 158B2]] * [[You don't.->Page 158B3]] </h3>

<h3> He comes to stop, the wheels squeak against the pavement and looks down at the ground. You can't see the expression on his face but you'd wager your question didn't make him happy. “Why do you think that?” he says in an odd tone of voice. You've both stopped in the middle of the road and somehow in spite of growing up in the dropping temperatures of nights in Croun, you shiver. You feel a prickling on your neck and you tentatively look towards the woods. But you see nothing just impenetrable darkness. When you look back at Lorcan he's at eye level with you and somehow despite the darkness you can the how wide his eyes are. Not the usual wide of surprise or shock but a wideness that looks angry. A wideness you could see in someone who doesn't have eyelids. You hug yourself and rub your arms, hopefully they won't go numb. “It's not out of the question, is it? She's gone, she's a girl just like the rest, she was found mutilated like Stephanie,“ you manage to say in a completely flat voice. He doesn't react just keeps staring at you expressionless. You have never seen him like this. You've seen him annoyed, you've seen him cruel but never this. You don't even know what to call it. The tops of the trees rustle with the wind. “...no. I guess it's not out of the question fuckface,“ he says casually and reverts back to his original state like nothing happened. He begins pedalling again and you walk after him. [[NEXT->Page 159]] </h3>

<h3>He waves that off. <<audio "wind" loop play>> In spite of him being a menace to your mere existence, his company distracted you from how solitary this area is. No animals to even keep you company down the path with trees surrounding you on both sides. You don't hear anything but for some reason... you can't shake off the feeling something is looking at you. Your pace quickens but you don't outright run. You don't know why but somehow you know that would be bad. It feels like it takes an eternity until you see the porch lights on your home. Arthur's car isn't here nor is Sally's or Percy's. You march up the front steps and twist the handle. The door opens and you're greeted by the yellow light of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling. You look over your shoulder at the darkness in between the spaces of the trees. You see nothing. [[NEXT->Page 161]] </h3>

<h3> You really have nothing better to do with your days. It's waking up, eating, going to school, being harassed, go home, eat, stare at the walls and go to sleep. This same routine for the foreseeable future. You don't do extracurricular activities and you don't have friends anymore. If you don't have anything to take your mind off yourself you could once again hurt yourself or others. That's why you're doing this. <hr>\ * [[“Did you know her at all?”->Page 158]] * [[“Does this have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> You know what it's like to be forgotten, discarded, treated like you don't matter over something that isn't your fault. Those girls didn't ask to have their lives ripped away from them no more than you asked to be born like this. Maybe in life they had a better environment than you do, maybe they were far more loved than you are but in death ― if they are all dead — you are the same. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> You're also a girl too. So there's that.<</if>> This is why you care. <hr>\ * [[“Did you know her at all?”->Page 158]] * [[“Does this have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> This all just fell on your lap, to be honest. You were minding your own business when those two idiots decided to get into a fight and fall onto a girl's body. The girl happened to be on your property, you were questioned by the police, they say they don't suspect you but if another body appears near your house you know they'll take you on. People already think you're a murderer. All this is merely chance and self-preservation. That's all there is to this. <hr>\ * [[“Did you know her at all?”->Page 158]] * [[“Does this have to do with Orla?”->Page 158C]] </h3>

<h3> You arrive at the gravel road that leads to the manor and you both stop to look at each other. Lorcan checks his watch and makes a face. <<audio "gothic" stop>> “Well this was a waste of my fucking afternoon. Thanks for that Crown,“ he moves his arm and throws something at your chest. Before you can say anything he swerves around and peddles quickly down the road. You bend down and pick up the book. You wipe away the dust and stare at the shiny golden lettering. You look up and watch Lorcan's retreating figure. <hr>\ * [[“Thanks!”->Page 160]] * [[“And fuck you too!”->Page 160B]] * [[You don't say anything.->Page 160C]] </h3>

<h3>He gives the finger. <<audio "wind" loop play>> Annoying motherfucker who's only joy in his miserable life is tormenting. Although he was at the very least useful here because you didn't need to pay much attention to how lonely this place is. No animals to even keep you company down the path with trees surrounding you on both sides. You don't hear anything but for some reason... you can't shake off the feeling something is looking at you. Your pace quickens but you don't outright run. You don't know why but somehow you know that would be bad. It feels like it takes an eternity until you see the porch lights on your home. Arthur's car isn't here nor is Sally's or Percy's. You march up the front steps and twist the handle. The door opens and you're greeted by the yellow light of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling. You look over your shoulder at the darkness in between the spaces of the trees. You see nothing. [[NEXT->Page 161]] </h3>

<h3>You watch until you can't see him anymore.<<audio "wind" loop play>> Even though it's hard for you to admit, you can't deny that having him accompany you all the way to the entrance of your home was of great help in keeping your mind off the fact that this place is so quiet. No animals to even keep you company down the path with trees surrounding you on both sides. You don't hear anything but for some reason... you can't shake off the feeling something is looking at you. Your pace quickens but you don't outright run. You don't know why but somehow you know that would be bad. It feels like it takes an eternity until you see the porch lights on your home. Arthur's car isn't here nor is Sally's or Percy's. You march up the front steps and twist the handle. The door opens and you're greeted by the yellow light of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling. You look over your shoulder at the darkness in between the spaces of the trees. You see nothing. [[NEXT->Page 161]] </h3>

<h3>You spend the rest of the journey speed-walking home, ignoring the aching in your thighs and calf muscles. It takes a bit but you finally arrive at the gravel road that leads to the manor, out of breath. <<audio "wind" loop play>> You're keenly aware of how deserted this area of the town is. No animals to even keep you company down the path with trees surrounding you on both sides. You don't hear anything but for some reason... you can't shake off the feeling something is looking at you. Your pace quickens but you don't outright run. You don't know why but somehow you know that would be bad. It feels like it takes an eternity until you see the porch lights on your home. Arthur's car isn't here nor is Sally's or Percy's. You march up the front steps and twist the handle. The door opens and you're greeted by the yellow light of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling. You look over your shoulder at the darkness in between the spaces of the trees. You see nothing. [[NEXT->Page 161]] </h3>

<h3> __ ''//LAST TIME ON WE WRETCHED CREATURES...//''__ //Your body is constricting, you feel like you're being pulled in tightly by this sensation. You don't know what this is but you feel as if something bad is about to happen.// °°°° //Sally stops with you and looks at the wall too. Some posters go back decades, the pictures having been hand-drawn instead of photographed. All girls, none older than twenty.// °°°°<<audio "wind" stop>> // “Come on sleepyhead you don't want to miss the first day of school.”// °°°° //Your innards plummet as you look into that cold cruel smile. “//Orla//?” you rasp, the name coming out unwanted like blood in your mouth.// °°°° //You look back and your eyes go down to his hand that's hovering over your arm. He looks down too and snatches it back. He crosses his arms and asks “are you still interested in the missing girls?” You slightly squint your eyes “why?” He nods “because I'd like to help you if I can.”// //[[THIS EPISODE'S SPONSOR->Episode 3 Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3> //Does your grandma just not die? Do you keep whispering every night for the Lord to take her? Do you envision running her over with your car? No matter what you do, the old lady keeps moving around her house, doesn't she? A house that's supposed to be your house after she died due to an unspecified illness. Is this you? Well you're in luck because Lucky's Matter Redistribution Centre is the best elimination service in town. If you don't know how much poison to use, how to cleanly behead with an axe or at what speed and angle you need to hit your relatives to effectively kill them, we're the people for you. We understand your plight. Human beings are resilient, no matter how hard you try to wipe them off the face of the Earth you can wake up tomorrow morning and they have set the table for breakfast. So call Lucky's Matter Redistribution Centre to fulfill all your familial desires today! For legal purposes the subject of your preferred elimination must have at least had one attempt on their life before you call us. LMRC is not liable if the service is completed but ineffective. This message has been brought to you by Lucky's Matter Redistribution Centre for inquiries please call 127-// [[NEXT->Episode 3: You'll See Him in Your Nightmares]] //Content warnings: mental health discrimination, dead bodies, gore, possible hallucinations, bullying// </h3>

<h2> S1 EPISODE 3: You'll See Him in Your Nightmares </h2> <h3> //The year 1989// <<audio "stephanie" loop play>> The sunlight reflects against the brown empty wall through the windows, slowly moving along its surface as the minutes pass. The grids interrupting the precise square to make wide ones. You have stood a few times and placed your hand near the wall, hoping to use your shadow to make some animals. Of course you've never learned how to do that. You can only manage a butterfly and a dog. Or was it a fox? Wolf? Your skull moves around the wall behind you as you try to stay awake because you know Father and Mother won't like that you fell asleep. Well, they did wake you up really early for this. They hadn't said a word about where you were going but it's such a familiar series of events that you don't need to be told where they're taking you to know. The doctor's muffled voice drones on from behind the white door that leads into his office, the one your parents went into about thirty minutes ago if the clock above your head is accurate. During his long talk he has been interjected by your father who in his quick and clipped way tells you without knowing what he's saying, that he's a bit pissed off. Your mother hasn't said anything. At certain times the doctor's voice has risen enough to make out what he's saying. Just like now. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Mr. and Mrs. Crown, we have been over this. Your daughter's psychological problems cannot remain hidden as you two wish them to be for long. Nor do I recommend them to be.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mr. and Mrs. Crown, we have been over this. Your son's psychological problems cannot remain hidden as you two wish them to be for long. Nor do I recommend them to be.”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 162]] </h3>

<h3>“They aren't hidden doctor. People already know. What my wife and I want is a way to be able to handle $himher at home. To minimize this. So we can have $himher out and about in public without anyone thinking that anything has gotten worse,” your father comments. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>There's a pause, you hear the screech of a chair and the doctor resumes talking “I don't believe Mr. Crown that that will soon be possible. It seems to me that since I last saw $name $hisher condition has devolved. It used to be that you could expect no more than four of these... episodes per year, with what you've told me in this year alone your daughter has had eight.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>There's a pause, you hear the screech of a chair and the doctor resumes talking “I don't believe Mr. Crown that that will soon be possible. It seems to me that since I last saw $name $hisher condition has devolved. It used to be that you could expect no more than four of these... episodes per year, with what you've told me in this year alone your son has had eight.”<</if>> You hear a familiar clicking and you can imagine with precision what your mother looks like lighting her cigarette. Long diluted pink nails, adorned with a simple golden band on her ring finger and a simple but tasteful sparking diamond ring on her pointer. “Not only that but the episodes have a shorter sober period between them and have increased in their duration and violence. It would be helpful if $heshe had any idea of what $heshe had done but all $hisher answers to my questions were unclear. I have no idea if it's purposeful or $heshe there is truly no memory of committing any of these acts,” the doctor says in an increasingly worried tone. In your mind your mother sucks in deeply, her bright red lipstick coating the filter of her cigarette. She maintains her arm up, the cigarette poised to be easily inhaled in a few seconds. She blows smoke through her perfect little nose. “Why does that matter?” your father asks. “It matters because it means we can hope for no progress with $himher. If $name can't retain the memories of what $heshe has done then $heshe can't accept responsibility. It prevents accountability and it blocks any attempt at trying to get $name to register any potential signs of an upcoming episode or any measures to calm $himselfherself while it's occurring,” the doctor answers seemingly exasperated at your father's inability to accept what is being said to him. [[NEXT->Page 163]] </h3>

<h3>“What the hell am I paying you for then?!“ your father angrily responds. “You're supposed to fix $himher, you've charged a pretty penny and my- $name is more sick than before.” You press your eyes closed and $habit. You don't know where this habit came from but you find you do this when you can't figure out what else to do. You never remember to do it before these 'episodes' they all say you have which don't retain their sharpness in your mind for long. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>There's a few seconds of silence before the doctor responds, “you pay me to give you answers. And I am doing that to the best of my ability. At first I thought your daughter had schizophrenia, then bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, all the classic and major options but apart from sharing a few of the symptoms, every time I've tried to treat them with the proper medication $hisher episodes don't change at all, they don't even have a disconcernable trigger.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>There's a few seconds of silence before the doctor responds, “you pay me to give you answers. And I am doing that to the best of my ability. At first I thought your son had schizophrenia, then bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, all the classic and major options but apart from sharing a few of the symptoms, every time I've tried to treat them with the proper medication $hisher episodes don't change at all, they don't even have a disconcernable trigger.”<</if>> Your father grumbles something you don't quite hear. No one ever actually told you that you were being treated for these things. You would get a prescription bottle and told you would need to follow the instructions to a T. All those pills did was make you nauseated and sweaty. How do you feel about these violent outbursts you don't have a clear memory of? <hr>\ * [[Worried.->Page 164A]] * [[Angry.->Page 164B]] * [[Disgusted.->Page 164C]] * [[Nothing.->Page 164D]] </h3>

<h3>In what world is it good to not remember things? Admittedly, sometimes you find yourself pushing unwanted memories from your mind but you never think they'll be gone forever. The thought that you can't even trust your own brain makes your heart beat quicker. Sally should be here. He makes everything less awful. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let her run wild? Give her a cookie every time she stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save her from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let him run wild? Give him a cookie every time he stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save him from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your daughter but your other children.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your son but your other children.”<</if>> Your blood runs cold. They want to have you committed. You remember once catching Percy watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and feeling a sense of danger for weeks afterwards once witnessing Jack Nicholson's character's fate. You shake your head. No they can't do this. Lost in your spiralling thoughts you're caught off guard when the door opens and your mother comes out followed by your father. [[NEXT->Page 165]] </h3>

<h3>Why is it that some people are blessed with so much fucking luck and others hit all the unlucky branches going down? You're angry at your parents for having children possibly knowing this could happen and at yourself for being so weak against your own damn self. Your hand curls tightly and shakes with the force of your mounting emotion. Why didn't Sally come? He has this talent to make a shitty situation less shitty. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let her run wild? Give her a cookie every time she stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save her from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let him run wild? Give him a cookie every time he stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save him from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch, “...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your daughter but your other children.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch, “...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your son but your other children.”<</if>> Your teeth gnash together. They want to have you committed. You remember once catching Percy watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and feeling a sense of danger for weeks afterwards once witnessing Jack Nicholson's character's fate. You shake your head. No they can't do this. Lost in your angry thoughts you're caught off guard when the door opens and your mother comes out followed by your father. [[NEXT->Page 165]] </h3>

<h3>They say self-love is a must for every human being but you look at yourself, truly look at who you are regardless of physical appearance and you're appalled at what you see. Exactly what dear old Mother and Father feel. You can almost taste the bile in your mouth. You need Sally here. He always acts as your biggest cheerleader with his sweet lies. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let her run wild? Give her a cookie every time she stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save her from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let him run wild? Give him a cookie every time he stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save him from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your daughter but your other children.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your son but your other children.”<</if>> Your stomach lurches. They want to have you committed. You remember once catching Percy watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and feeling a sense of danger for weeks afterwards once witnessing Jack Nicholson's character's fate. You shake your head. No they can't do this. Lost in your self-loathing thoughts you're caught off guard when the door opens and your mother comes out followed by your father. [[NEXT->Page 165]] </h3>

<h3>You thought this would eventually come here anyway. Classic story of a person too mentally deranged to be a functioning member of society. A thing to be shunned, hidden away from all the 'normal' people. Well, you were given your lot in life. No point in caring enough to fight against it. Although Sally would make this whole ordeal less uneventful. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let her run wild? Give her a cookie every time she stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save her from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“__Fine__. What do you propose we do then? Let him run wild? Give him a cookie every time he stabs someone? I already clean off the bloody knife every single time to save him from being sent to prison“ your father emphasizes<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your daughter but your other children.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You strain your hearing to pay close attention to what your doctor says, a curl in your stomach making you lose any appetite you could've had. You hear him speak but you can't make out the beginning, fortunately his voice does raise in pitch,”...as soon as possible. Proper twenty-four seven care in an institution will not only keep other people safe but prevent a tragedy befalling not only your son but your other children.”<</if>> You nod your head, obviously. They want to have you committed. You remember once catching Percy watching One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and feeling a sense of danger for weeks afterwards once witnessing Jack Nicholson's character's fate. You hum in tranquility. You can't do anything about this. <<set $sidefour to true>> Lost in your surrendering idleness you're caught off guard when the door opens and your mother comes out followed by your father. [[NEXT->Page 165]] </h3>

<h3> Your father sighs when he sees you and motions for you to stand up. His heavy hand on your back feels cold. Your mother doesn't even look at you. You both follow her clicking heels down the tiled hall. The car is waiting in front of the doctor's office, Arthur rushes out to open the back door for you. Your mother goes in first, then you and then your father. The car feels warm, opposed to the chilliness outside. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“How was the appointment little Miss Crown?” Arthur cheerfully asks you as he peels away from the building.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“How was the appointment little Mister Crown?” Arthur cheerfully asks you as he peels away from the building.<</if>> “Ok“ you mumble. “Arthur focus on the road,” your father says. Arthur makes an apologetic face and nods. You drive in silence for a while, occasionally looking to the windows as the fields zip by you. You had all gone out of town for this as you had exhausted all the doctors in town. “Arthur put on the radio and raise the volume“ your father commands. He does this, a song from that singer with long hair and a flower as his stage name plays from the speaker. The music is loud enough that you can't even focus on your own thoughts. “$name explain to me why the maid found roadkill under your bed this morning“ your father asks you without warning and in a bored tone. Your mother lowers her window and rummages through her purse. You roll your lips, not knowing how to approach an answer. “Hmm? Do you not know how to speak?” he questions. <hr>\ * [[“I don't remember.”->Page 166B]] * [[“Shut up.”->Page 166C]] * [[Keep your mouth shut.->Page 166]] </h3>

<h3> You shake your head. Your father sighs “what is that? Is that a yes? A no? I'm waiting for an answer.” Your mother lights another cigarette and blows out a stream of smoke through the window. This is very new. She used to smoke with the windows up because she would get cold. You $habit. “Could you stop doing that“ your mother grumbles as she looks out the window, cheek bones clenching. She isn't asking. You are always surprised by how aware she is of things. Every day she seems further away. Your father looks from her to you and loosens his tie in seeming frustration. “Is that all you have to contribute Prudence?” Your mother takes a sharp breath and seems to steel herself “what more do you want from me Victor? I came, like you ordered me to.” Your father snorts and shakes his head, as if disbelieving this woman is his wife. “The kid is hiding fucking dead animals in $hisher room and all you've done this morning is try to become a chimney.” “And all you've done this morning...” your mother begins to complain under her breath as your father simultaneously begins his tirade on your mother's behaviour. In one ear you have your mother's exhausted flat voice and in the other your father's irritated nasal one. The subject of you, entirely forgotten as your parents verbally assault each other. The echo of the doctor's words roll around like a coin in your head, washing away your parents' argument. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your daughter will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your son will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 167]] </h3>

<h3> <<if $pathfour>> Due to your previous choice of not securing the book from Lorcan you have forfeited the ability to do a side quest this episode. Worry not, there is another path to take here and you'll get a chance next episode. [[NEXT->Page 168D]] <<elseif not $pathfour>> Which path did you choose to walk home last episode? <hr>\ * [[Woods.->Page 168A]] * [[Town.->Page 168B]] * [[Lake.->Page 168C]] \ <</if>> \</h3>

<h3> //Late September// The cool breeze spreads along your neck and down your back, along your waist and back up your stomach. The higher up a person goes the chillier it gets. Currently, by sitting on your windowsill you feel that. If you don't even let the sky touch your face Sally will make a point to fuss about it. If you raise your leg you can touch with the point of your toe the big tree outside your window. If you had been more popular it could've been useful to climb down to go to parties. All its purpose now is occasionally rattling so hard in the rain that it hits your window at night. Someone wanting to get in. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>> Your nimble fingers work to make a Zinnia. You've never tried to before. Now that you have more books in your disposal you can try all kinds of paper flowers. Apparently it means you're thinking of a friend or a missing friend. Ironic.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>> The other day you were rummaging in the attic and you found these dusty five pound weights behind a mirror. You're doing a few sets with your left arm and then going to your right. Still no muscle gain.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>> You flip the thin worn pages of a book jammed into the shelves of your father's library. Older than you and a rather fitting subject. Carrie. Of course you wouldn't ruin your life for any of these people.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>> A bit unoriginal but you decided to sketch what you see from your vantage point. You rub the thin lines of the nebulous clouds. Your fingers almost always smudged black. Percy says you bathe with dirt.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>> The word of the day is //Chapfallen// which means depressed or lower hanging jaw. Two completely different things but you used the former definition for yourself. A constant feeling.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You lift the cigarette from the small teacup you use as an ashtray and quickly inhale, the crackling of the tobacco delighting your ears. You let the smoke rest in your throat before pushing it out.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Having refilled your flask with some bottles in the parlour you take a deep gulp of that burning and acidic liquid. You feel it flowing down your pipes.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You bite your tongue as you bring your fist from its position against the window frame. You examine your pink knuckles, the skin becoming stronger as evidenced by the lack of blood.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Your stomach does a little lurch as the pill you took about twenty minutes ago dissolves in your acid. Your bones feel like someone is massaging them. Your head rolls slightly atop your neck.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You take a deep breath in, seeking to get that cooling and fresh air in your lungs. You enjoy the physical space around you, trying to ignore the other stimuli near you that could pull you out of your state.<</if>> The rest of that week in high school wasn't as eventful as your first day was. People can get used to anything, even something they deem awful. Or maybe teenagers are just fickle. Either way there were still stares, mild jeering, the occasional word spray painted on your locker but no one ever called you out directly nor tripped you. Speaking of, oddly enough James Hewitt was the cause of most of the talk during that first week. Someone had photographed him in the boy's locker room and polaroids had been stuck all over the walls and in people's lockers. The problem? His penis apparently is no bigger than a pinkie. Apart from him dominating the front page of high school drama there was also that thing that happened to the girl with pink Mary Jane's that tripped you. She was sent to the hospital after someone had placed a standing nail in her cheerleading shoe. It went right through. Maybe karma doesn't entirely disregard you. [[NEXT->Page 169A]] </h3>

<h3> //Late September// The cool breeze spreads along your neck and down your back, along your waist and back up your stomach. The higher up a person goes the chillier it gets. Currently, by sitting on your windowsill you feel that. If you don't even let the sky touch your face Sally will make a point to fuss about it. If you raise your leg you can touch with the point of your toe the big tree outside your window. If you had been more popular it could've been useful to climb down to go to parties. All its purpose for now is occasionally rattling so hard in the rain that it hits your window at night. Someone wanting to get in. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>> Your nimble fingers work to make a Zinnia. You've never tried to before. Now that you have more books in your disposal you can try all kinds of paper flowers. Apparently it means you're thinking of a friend or a missing friend. Ironic.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>> The other day you were rummaging in the attic and you found these dusty five pound weights behind a mirror. You're doing a few sets with your left arm and then going to your right. Still no muscle gain.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>> You flip the thin worn pages of a book jammed into the shelves of your father's library. Older than you and a rather fitting subject. Carrie. Of course you wouldn't ruin your life for any of these people.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>> A bit unoriginal but you decided to sketch what you see from your vantage point. You rub the thin lines of the nebulous clouds. Your fingers almost always smudged black. Percy says you bathe with dirt.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>> The word of the day is //Chapfallen// which means depressed or lower hanging jaw. Two completely different things but you used the former definition for yourself. A constant feeling.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You lift the cigarette from the small teacup you use as an ashtray and quickly inhale, the crackling of the tobacco delighting your ears. You let the smoke rest in your throat before pushing it out.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Having refilled your flask with some bottles in the parlour you take a deep gulp of that burning and acidic liquid. You feel it flowing down your pipes.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You bite your tongue as you bring your fist from its position against the window frame. You examine your pink knuckles, the skin becoming stronger as evidenced by the lack of blood.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Your stomach does a little lurch as the pill you took about twenty minutes ago dissolves in your acid. Your bones feel like someone is massaging them. Your head rolls slightly atop your neck.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You take a deep breath in, seeking to get that cooling and fresh air in your lungs. You enjoy the physical space around you, trying to ignore the other stimuli near you that could pull you out of your state.<</if>> The rest of that week in high school wasn't as eventful as your first day was. People can get used to anything, even something they deem awful. Or maybe teenagers are just fickle. Either way there were still stares, mild jeering, the occasional word spray painted on your locker but no one ever called you out directly nor tripped you. Speaking of, oddly enough James Hewitt was the cause of most of the talk during that first week. Someone had photographed him in the boy's locker room and polaroids had been stuck all over the walls and in people's lockers. The problem? His penis apparently is no bigger than a pinkie. Apart from him dominating the front page of high school drama there was also that thing that happened to the girl with pink Mary Jane's that tripped you. She was sent to the hospital after someone had placed a standing nail in her cheerleading shoe. It went right through. Maybe karma doesn't entirely disregard you. [[NEXT->Page 169B]] </h3>

<h3> //Late September// The cool breeze spreads along your neck and down your back, along your waist and back up your stomach. The higher up a person goes the chillier it gets. Currently, by sitting on your windowsill you feel that. If you don't even let the sky touch your face Sally will make a point to fuss about it. If you raise your leg you can touch with the point of your toe the big tree outside your window. If you had been more popular it could've been useful to climb down to go to parties. All its purpose for now is occasionally rattling so hard in the rain that it hits your window at night. Someone wanting to get in. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>> Your nimble fingers work to make a Zinnia. You've never tried to before. Now that you have more books in your disposal you can try all kinds of paper flowers. Apparently it means you're thinking of a friend or a missing friend. Ironic.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>> The other day you were rummaging in the attic and you found these dusty five pound weights behind a mirror. You're doing a few sets with your left arm and then going to your right. Still no muscle gain.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>> You flip the thin worn pages of a book jammed into the shelves of your father's library. Older than you and a rather fitting subject. Carrie. Of course you wouldn't ruin your life for any of these people.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>> A bit unoriginal but you decided to sketch what you see from your vantage point. You rub the thin lines of the nebulous clouds. Your fingers almost always smudged black. Percy says you bathe with dirt.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>> The word of the day is //Chapfallen// which means depressed or lower hanging jaw. Two completely different things but you used the former definition for yourself. A constant feeling.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You lift the cigarette from the small teacup you use as an ashtray and quickly inhale, the crackling of the tobacco delighting your ears. You let the smoke rest in your throat before pushing it out.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Having refilled your flask with some bottles in the parlour you take a deep gulp of that burning and acidic liquid. You feel it flowing down your pipes.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You bite your tongue as you bring your fist from its position against the window frame. You examine your pink knuckles, the skin becoming stronger as evidenced by the lack of blood.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Your stomach does a little lurch as the pill you took about twenty minutes ago dissolves in your acid. Your bones feel like someone is massaging them. Your head rolls slightly atop your neck.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You take a deep breath in, seeking to get that cooling and fresh air in your lungs. You enjoy the physical space around you, trying to ignore the other stimuli near you that could pull you out of your state.<</if>> The rest of that week in high school wasn't as eventful as your first day was. People can get used to anything, even something they deem awful. Or maybe teenagers are just fickle. Either way there were still stares, mild jeering, the occasional word spray painted on your locker but no one ever called you out directly nor tripped you. Speaking of, oddly enough James Hewitt was the cause of most of the talk during that first week. Someone had photographed him in the boy's locker room and polaroids had been stuck all over the walls and in people's lockers. The problem? His penis apparently is no bigger than a pinkie. Apart from him dominating the front page of high school drama there was also that thing that happened to the girl with pink Mary Jane's that tripped you. She was sent to the hospital after someone had placed a standing nail in her cheerleading shoe. It went right through. Maybe karma doesn't entirely disregard you. [[NEXT->Page 169C]] </h3>

<h3> //Late September// The cool breeze spreads along your neck and down your back, along your waist and back up your stomach. The higher up a person goes the chillier it gets. Currently, by sitting on your windowsill you feel that. If you don't even let the sky touch your face Sally will make a point to fuss about it. <<set $side4 to true>> If you raise your leg you can touch with the point of your toe the big tree outside your window. If you had been more popular it could've been useful to climb down to go to parties. All its purpose for now is occasionally rattling so hard in the rain that it hits your window at night. Someone wanting to get in. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>> Your nimble fingers work to make a Zinnia. You've never tried to before. Now that you have more books in your disposal you can try all kinds of paper flowers. Apparently it means you're thinking of a friend or a missing friend. Ironic.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>> The other day you were rummaging in the attic and you found these dusty five pound weights behind a mirror. You're doing a few sets with your left arm and then going to your right. Still no muscle gain.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>> You flip the thin worn pages of a book jammed into the shelves of your father's library. Older than you and a rather fitting subject. Carrie. Of course you wouldn't ruin your life for any of these people.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>> A bit unoriginal but you decided to sketch what you see from your vantage point. You rub the thin lines of the nebulous clouds. Your fingers almost always smudged black. Percy says you bathe with dirt.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>> The word of the day is //Chapfallen// which means depressed or lower hanging jaw. Two completely different things but you used the former definition for yourself. A constant feeling.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You lift the cigarette from the small teacup you use as an ashtray and quickly inhale, the crackling of the tobacco delighting your ears. You let the smoke rest in your throat before pushing it out.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Having refilled your flask with some bottles in the parlour you take a deep gulp of that burning and acidic liquid. You feel it flowing down your pipes.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. You bite your tongue as you bring your fist from its position against the window frame. You examine your pink knuckles, the skin becoming stronger as evidenced by the lack of blood.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> Seeking to completely indulge yourself you've combined your occasional hobby with your more... destructive act. Your stomach does a little lurch as the pill you took about twenty minutes ago dissolves in your acid. Your bones feel like someone is massaging them. Your head rolls slightly atop your neck.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You take a deep breath in, seeking to get that cooling and fresh air in your lungs. You enjoy the physical space around you, trying to ignore the other stimuli near you that could pull you out of your state.<</if>> The rest of that week in high school wasn't as eventful as your first day was. People can get used to anything, even something they deem awful. Or maybe teenagers are just fickle. Either way there were still stares, mild jeering, the occasional word spray painted on your locker but no one ever called you out directly nor tripped you. Speaking of, oddly enough James Hewitt was the cause of most of the talk during that first week. Someone had photographed him in the boy's locker room and polaroids had been stuck all over the walls and in people's lockers. The problem? His penis apparently is no bigger than a pinkie. Apart from him dominating the front page of high school drama there was also that thing that happened to the girl with pink Mary Jane's that tripped you. She was sent to the hospital after someone had placed a standing nail in her cheerleading shoe. It went right through. Maybe karma doesn't entirely disregard you. [[NEXT->Page 169D]] </h3>

<h3> You know he won't like that answer. “What the hell do you mean by that? You dragged rotting crap to your room and don't remember doing so? For fuck's sake.” Your mother lights another cigarette and blows out a stream of smoke through the window. This is very new. She used to smoke with the windows up because she would get cold. You $habit. “Could you stop doing that“ your mother grumbles as she looks out the window, cheek bones clenching. She isn't asking. You are always surprised by how aware she is of things. Every day she seems further away. Your father looks from her to you and loosens his tie in seeming frustration. “Is that all you have to contribute Prudence?” Your mother takes a sharp breath and seems to steel herself “what more do you want from me Victor? I came, like you ordered me to.” Your father snorts and shakes his head, as if disbelieving this woman is his wife. “The kid is hiding fucking dead animals in $hisher room and all you've done this morning is try to become a chimney.” “And all you've done this morning...” your mother begins to complain under her breath as your father simultaneously begins his tirade on your mother's behaviour. In one ear you have your mother's exhausted flat voice and in the other your father's irritated nasal one. The subject of you, entirely forgotten as your parents verbally assault each other. The echo of the doctor's words roll around like a coin in your head, washing away your parents' argument. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your daughter will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your son will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 167]] </h3>

<h3> You expect the words to be loud but they come out as a whisper. “What was that? Speak up. Unless it's one of your useless answers, if so just shut up.” Your mother lights another cigarette and blows out a stream of smoke through the window. This is very new. She used to smoke with the windows up because she would get cold. You $habit. “Could you stop doing that“ your mother grumbles as she looks out the window, cheek bones clenching. She isn't asking. You are always surprised by how aware she is of things. Every day she seems further away. Your father looks from her to you and loosens his tie in seeming frustration. “Is that all you have to contribute Prudence?” Your mother takes a sharp breath and seems to steel herself “what more do you want from me Victor? I came, like you ordered me to.” Your father snorts and shakes his head, as if disbelieving this woman is his wife. “The kid is hiding fucking dead animals in $hisher room and all you've done this morning is try to become a chimney.” “And all you've done this morning...” your mother begins to complain under her breath as your father simultaneously begins his tirade on your mother's behaviour. In one ear you have your mother's exhausted flat voice and in the other your father's irritated nasal one. The subject of you, entirely forgotten as your parents verbally assault each other. The echo of the doctor's words roll around like a coin in your head, washing away your parents' argument. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your daughter will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Something the doctor said as your parents left his office. //One day your son will do something you won't be able to save $himher from.//<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 167]] </h3>

<h3> No one really talks to you. Imre hasn't called you to report anything, sometimes you cross eyes but he gives nothing away. All his friends have left you alone. Either they grew bored with you, or either he or Nia steered them away from you. Nia herself hasn't tried to speak to you. You find that sometimes she's near you with her friends. But she doesn't look your way. You caught Lorcan leaning against the front doors of the school as you leave, following you with his eyes before you leave his sight. It almost feels like they're waiting for something. You almost feel like you're waiting too. The clouds are accumulating before the storm rains down. It seems that all three of them knew to bring their umbrellas while someone broke yours. However, these weeks haven't entirely been a non-ending cycle of tedious mundanity. You kept thinking of Mr. Ewekes, how he has been the first person to ever have asked for your help. It's an odd feeling to feel needed when all your life you've been at the mercy of others. You were never taught to take care of yourself, you're also pretty sure legally you aren't considered an adult based on your hospitalization. Who knows why you decided to leave your house yesterday but after lunch, an event you slept through you squirmed your feet into your shoes and trudged all the way to his house. Sunglasses covering your dead-like and sleep-deprived eyes. Another gift from the attic. <hr>\ * [[Cat-eye ones.->Page 170A]] * [[Aviator ones.->Page 170A]] * [[Round ones.->Page 170A]] * [[Wayfarer ones.->Page 170A]] </h3>

<h3> No one really talks to you. Imre hasn't called you to report anything, sometimes you cross eyes but he gives nothing away. All his friends have left you alone. Either they grew bored with you, or either he or Nia steered them away from you. Nia herself hasn't tried to speak to you. You find that sometimes she's near you with her friends. But she doesn't look your way. You caught Lorcan leaning against the front doors of the school as you leave, following you with his eyes before you leave his sight. It almost feels like they're waiting for something. You almost feel like you're waiting too. The clouds are accumulating before the storm rains down. It seems that all three of them knew to bring their umbrellas while someone broke yours. However, these weeks haven't entirely been a non-ending cycle of tedious mundanity. Tina and her predicament kept returning to your mind. It's an odd feeling to feel needed when all your life you've been at the mercy of others. You were never taught to take care of yourself, you're also pretty sure legally you aren't considered an adult based on your hospitalization. Who knows why you decided to leave your house yesterday but after lunch, an event you slept through you squirmed your feet into your shoes and trudged all the way to her shop. Sunglasses covering your dead-like and sleep-deprived eyes. Another gift from the attic. <hr>\ * [[Cat-eye ones.->Page 170B]] * [[Aviator ones.->Page 170B]] * [[Round ones.->Page 170B]] * [[Wayfarer ones.->Page 170B]] </h3>

<h3> No one really talks to you. Imre hasn't called you to report anything, sometimes you cross eyes but he gives nothing away. All his friends have left you alone. Either they grew bored with you, or either he or Nia steered them away from you. Nia herself hasn't tried to speak to you. You find that sometimes she's near you with her friends. But she doesn't look your way. You caught Lorcan leaning against the front doors of the school as you leave, following you with his eyes before you leave his sight. It almost feels like they're waiting for something. You almost feel like you're waiting too. The clouds are accumulating before the storm rains down. It seems that all three of them knew to bring their umbrellas while someone broke yours. However, these weeks haven't entirely been a non-ending cycle of tedious mundanity. You saw the lake and that made you think of Asia and their heartbreak. It's an odd feeling to feel needed when all your life you've been at the mercy of others. You were never taught to take care of yourself, you're also pretty sure legally you aren't considered an adult based on your hospitalization. Who knows why you decided to leave your house yesterday but after lunch, an event you slept through you squirmed your feet into your shoes and trudged all the way to the part of the lake they fish at. Sunglasses covering your dead-like and sleep-deprived eyes. Another gift from the attic. <hr>\ * [[Cat-eye ones.->Page 170C]] * [[Aviator ones.->Page 170C]] * [[Round ones.->Page 170C]] * [[Wayfarer ones.->Page 170C]] </h3>

<h3> No one really talks to you. Imre hasn't called you to report anything, sometimes you cross eyes but he gives nothing away. All his friends have left you alone. Either they grew bored with you, or either he or Nia steered them away from you. Nia herself hasn't tried to speak to you. You find that sometimes she's near you with her friends. But she doesn't look your way. You caught Lorcan leaning against the front doors of the school as you leave, following you with his eyes before you leave his sight. It almost feels like they're waiting for something. You almost feel like you're waiting too. The clouds are accumulating before the storm rains down. It seems that all three of them knew to bring their umbrellas while someone broke yours. However, these weeks haven't entirely been a non-ending cycle of tedious mundanity. You needed that book for your class, the local library only had one copy that was lost in the early 80s and so you finally managed to overcome your reluctance to ask your older brother for help. It's an incredibly familiar feeling to always need him to help you. You were never taught to take care of yourself, you're also pretty sure legally you aren't considered an adult based on your hospitalization. So early enough yesterday you and your brother set off after your lunch, an event you slept through. You squirmed your feet into your shoes and trudged your way to the car. Sunglasses covering your dead-like and sleep-deprived eyes. Another gift from the attic. <hr>\ * [[Cat-eye ones.->Page 170D]] * [[Aviator ones.->Page 170D]] * [[Round ones.->Page 170D]] * [[Wayfarer ones.->Page 170D]] </h3>

<h3> //Yesterday// <<set $pathone to true>> When you come upon Mr. Ewekes house you find him standing on the grass in front, looking up at the sky with his warm hot mug that looks like the same mug he was drinking from when you saw him weeks back. He takes a sip, makes an appalled face and maintains his attention to the gray sky. Before you can get a word out he says “it looks like it's going to rain. We have ta clean the house quick before that happens or imma have to stay in that house during the rainfall and I don't relish that little Crown.” You look into the dark hole that is the open door frame of his house and brace yourself for when the smell finally hits your nostrils. Shit. Why do all good deeds come with a price? “You want some?” he holds out his mug to you. You shake your head and he shrugs as if thinking you're missing out. “Ok so what exactly is the problem?” you ask.<<audio "stephanie" stop>> He shakes his head and replies “just let me finish ma drink and we'll get down to business,” he takes a larger sip and makes a 'plegh' sound, his tongue trying to clean itself. Old people are strange. You both watch the clouds as you wait for him to finish. <<set $S31 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 171A]] </h3>

<h3> //Yesterday// <<set $pathtwo to true>><<audio "stephanie" stop>> When Tina's Taxidermy shop comes into sight you find her sitting on the front steps, holding a paperback out in front of her. You can't make out the words but by the glistening abs on the cover you figure it's a romance. She guides her finger along the sentences, moving her mouth silently to the words she's reading. “Tina?” you interrupt. She holds up a finger and keeps reading silently. By the way she folds the book it seems she's now past half way. Something not entirely difficult with soft core porn. Not looking away from her book, she says “took you long enough. You should've been here weeks ago. More pieces are sick than ever.” You roll your eyes. It's hard doing a good deed when the person who wants help is an asshole. “Have you ever read Johanna Lindsay?” Tina asks and when you say no she counters with “amazing writer. This woman understands love.” You nod quickly “cool. Soooo... are we getting to the problem or what?” Tina huffs in an annoyed fashion. “We will. Calm your horses. I'm at a very good part and I'm almost finished. Sebastian is seconds away from discovering that Magenta is pregnant with his baby.” Adults are the oddest creatures. You look around as you wait for her to finish.<<set $S32 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 171B]] </h3>

<h3> //Yesterday//<<audio "stephanie" stop>> Asia Finley has fished at the same spot for about five years. Under a specific tree that grows tiny little red flowers which fall aesthetically down onto the grass. You find them sitting there, reeling something heavy in. You stop close to them as they step backwards and strain their arms to pull the rod out from the dark water. You want to say something but they look busy so you wait as you watch them wrestle with whatever doesn't want to be caught. You hear them curse as the line doesn't seem to be moving towards them. Not letting go they bring their arms up and wipe at their sweating brow. “$name, so grateful that you came... I had gotten to thinking you had forgotten all about me. I thought all hope was lost. Thank god.” You hum in response. “Do you need me to help you with that fish?” you offer, hoping they'll say no. You're not the strongest around. They shake their head, “that's alright. I've taken on stronger and trickier beasts.” You clasp your hands behind your back as you watch the continued struggle of humankind versus nature. You do hope Asia doesn't get thrown in there because then your little good deed of the day will become much more complicated with a dead body. You huff and wait for them to win.<<set $S33 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 171C]] </h3>

<h3> //Yesterday//<<audio "stephanie" stop>> It wasn't common for you to leave town with any of your family on an excursion. You had only ever left for doctor appointments. You always knew Sally didn't like leaving town. No townie did. It was an odd //pull// that claims your belly button and you could feel it now. Sally clenches the steering wheel and takes a deep breath as you reach the other end of the singular bridge that leaves town. He makes a quick turn to the left which leads you onto a cement road cutting through desolate fields. The way to Winchester. Unlike the town, it had more than one bookstore. Sally rolls his shoulders. “Isn't this just nice? You and me having a little adventure. Something away from the house for the first time in over two years“ your brother says contently. You want to correct him, its actually been over five years. You nod “yes, this is nice Sally. Both of us will get to see something other than the same wallpaper and light fixtures. See faces that we've never seen before.” He smiles at that and pats the hand you have laid on your leg “I am sorry I haven't suggested we spend more time together.” You lean and shake your head “it's really okay Sally. We have all the time in the world to hang out. All my free time is spent at home now anyways so my schedule is very, very clear.” His smile drops a tiny bit when you say that.<<set $S34 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 171D]] </h3>

<h3> He takes his sweet time to finish whatever beverage he's forcing down but after about ten minutes he wipes his mouth with his sleeve and walks towards the front door. That must be your queue to follow him. The moment you actually step onto the porch the smell assaults you like a deadly weapon and plug your nose but that doesn't stop you from gagging. Cheese is supposed to be good the older it gets right? This smells like rot. Mr. Ewekes looks back at you bracing yourself against the wooden column “I forgot how it's like for outsiders.” He walks through the open door frame and you count to ten before you follow him. You'd think the inside of the house would be pitch black given what you've seen from the outside but as you enter the front interior which is just a long hallway you see that it's exactly just dim, not dark. The walls are made from wooden panels and a series of old shoes line the floors, all in perfect order. With your nose still plugged you walk into the first open door you find on your left. You pull your sunglasses up onto your head as gray light illuminates the dusty cramped room you find Mr. Ewekes sitting in. He motions for you to sit on a chair across from him. <hr>\ * [[You do.->Page 172A]] * [[You don't.->Page 172AA]] </h3>

<h3> You stand awkwardly on the sidewalk as the silence is punctuated by a series of gasps from the reader. Tina's mouth hangs in shock as her eyes skim the page quickly from left to right, her hand against her chest. Suddenly she slams the book shut, turns on her boot and walks into the store. You follow behind her, stopping the door with your foot as she doesn't hold it open for you. The interior of the store is just as you see it from the store window, the work tables placed around the room in an organized order that leaves room for walking in between them. The only new thing is the smell, it smells like fur, sawdust and glue. Tina stands with her elbows on a table, leaning forward to peer into the eyes of one of her taxidermy animals, the rest of the tables are overflowing with her other creations. She does all kinds, birds, foxes, chipmunks, cats, hellhounds, fairies. It's so strange, Croun doesn't have enough of these things around to make so many. You walk past the row of beady eyes staring back at you, the shine of life not being fully imitated by the substances that make up these mutations. The walls not only have mounted stuffed animals but there are also framed photographs, some of Tina and others of a woman. Newspaper clippings too. <hr>\ * [[You go to Tina.->Page 172B]] * [[You lean against the wall.->Page 172BB]] </h3>

<h3> They grunt as they dig their heels into the dirt, their tank top showing the straining and shaking of their muscles. With difficulty they take one giant step back and yell as they use their last remnants of strength to overcome their battle. Something goes flying from the water and you duck as it goes through the branches of the trees behind you. Asia tries to reel it in but the blank is stuck in the leaves. They make a face and venture into the foliage. You hear some rustling and sounds presumably made by Asia. They come out holding a large boot. A very large boot. Either belonging to a clown or the world's smallest giant. They smile and throw it onto the grass. They disentangle the fishing pool from the trees and walk back to the edge to clean up the tools they use for their work. Fishing in Croun is a bit of a dangerous affair. The creatures in the water don't take kindly to just anyone. There have been many stories of people who were looking to fish being pulled into these waters and resurfacing hours later with bruises and maybe a missing limb. You steal a peek at the big plastic container Asia has all their equipment in. You see on the bottom of the lid a tapped photograph of Asia holding up a thumb and something else holding up a thumb too. The rest of its body out of frame. <hr>\ * [[You help Asia clean up.->Page 172C]] * [[You sit down.->Page 172CC]] </h3>

<h3> Sally turns the knob of the radio and starts flipping between stations, most of them too static to make out what's being played. He finally manages to land on some talking. A man preaching about some text from the bible. You wonder where he could be preaching from. “You could go and see the available clubs at your school. When I went there was drama club, running, swimming, basketball, debate club“ he ends that last one in a question and you shrug your shoulders “no, debate club was closed down after the two main competitors shot each other.” The preacher on the radio is now talking about the Devil, the reception is pretty spotty so you can't make out exactly what he's saying about him. “Do I like I'd be the type of person to join debate or basketball for that matter?” you ask and make a show of pointing to your face. Sally tabs his thumb against the wheel in a pattern “does a person have to look a certain way to be a part of something?” //'Satan is a reality, he is a person. He comes to you, not with anger, nor a knife but with a smile as sweet as saccharin.'// You lean your head back against the car rest and although you think of closing your eyes for a second you feel like Sally would feel as if you're ignoring him. <hr>\ * [[“Is this for friends or academic?”->Page 172D]] * [[“Did you do that?”->Page 172DD]] * [[“Are you asking me to be our sister?”->Page 172DDD]] </h3>

<h3> The seat is cleared and it looks sturdy enough to not collapse under your weight so you decide to do as he says. Once you sit down he smiles at you. “I always knew ya weren't like the others of ya kind“ he comments. You scouch back into the seat, trying to make yourself comfortable. “My kind?” you question. He nods contently “rich folk.” You quirk an eyebrow but don't say anything. You look around the room, breathing entirely from your mouth now. There's newspapers everywhere in all states of ravage. A singular picture is up on the wall of a man and a woman cutting a cake. A wedding. Mr. Ewekes follows your gaze and sighs when he sees the picture. “My sweet Abigail. God don't I miss her.” “How long have you been a widow for?” you try to ask as kindly as possible. He looks at you with confusion “widow? She ain't dead! She left me for a travelling salesman.” Your eyebrows raise “oh. Sorry for your loss either way.” He grunts and reaches under his seat for a box-shaped thing covered with a towel “we ain't here to talk about Abigail, this is what I need ya for.” He places the box on his lap and throws off the towel to reveal a cage. You lean forward to see what's inside. In the middle of it is what looks like a big piece of cheese. [[NEXT->Page 173A]] </h3>

<h3> You scratch your head as you look from the block of cheese to Mr. Ewekes' expectant face. The cheese doesn't look moldy. It is shaped a bit odd but the smell is normal, not that overpowered smell of decomposition that assaults the house. “I don't-“ “Shhh“ he says, bringing a finger to his lips. You look down with him at this cheese in a cage. You don't know what it is he wants you to see. Maybe you got roped into helping a lunatic. As a lunatic yourself you should've recognized another one. You've been played. You sigh and make to stand up, a series of excuses forming in your brain when something moves on the cheese. You peer closer and see that yes, something is moving. Not shaking exactly more like undulating. A small thing made of cheese sprouts from the block. It flails around before feeling the floor beneath it. It's a paw. “What the fuck“ you whisper. On the other side of it another paw sprouts out. Then at what you presume is the bottom part of the block two more paws. When at the top a snout comes out you finally figure out what you're looking at. It's a rat. A rat made from cheese. You watch chapfallen as this thing moves its face around its enclosure and soon starts walking around it, sniffing at the steel. “Now ya see what I've been dealing with for the past four years?” Mr. Ewekes says. [[NEXT->Page 174A]] </h3>

<h3> “Rats made from cheese. That's what this is?” Mr. Ewekes nods, seemingly happy that you get it. “How did this happen? Where did they come from? How many are there?” “Woah woah woah“ he stops you and places the cage on the floor. He stands and rubs his chin “I don't know. I woke up one morning and they was in ma house. And there's a hell of a lot more where these came from... I've got them trapped all in the basement.” This place has a basement? You watch the rat scurry around its cage, standing on its hind legs to peer out. If it wasn't so unnatural it could've been cute. <hr>\ * [[“What about the smell?”->Page 175A]] * [[“Why won't they leave?”->Page 175AA]] * [[“Why haven't you moved?”->Page 175AAA]] * [[“Can you let it out?”->Page 175AAAA]] </h3>

<h3> He sighs so deeply you think he might faint from the lack of oxygen. “They don't eat cheese exactly.” Your stomach twists at the implication of what he is saying. The smell or rot. The smell of decay. The smell of things rolling around a stomach with little holes. “Ok. They eat meat. What kind of meat?” you ask, hoping against hope it isn't human meat. He shakes his head at your question “I know whatcha thinkin' and it ain't all that. At least I haven't seen it. They like eatin' other animals. Rodents. Cats. Dogs. Whateva roadkill picked up on that road away from town.” A problem. Croun infamously doesn't have many outdoor animals. “So... it's hard to get food for them is it?” He nods and sucks on his lip “yeah. I have a buddy at the roadkill place for the dead things found on that road. Outta town. Course since this town is so isolated, not much roadkill is available anymore to me.” <hr>\ * [[“Why won't they leave?”->Page 175AA]] * [[“Why haven't you moved?”->Page 175AAA]] * [[“Can you let it out?”->Page 175AAAA]] </h3>

<h3> When it reaches you, you slam your foot down hard and feel the rat's body give way. A wet sound. You drag your shoe around, making sure to really kill this thing. When you move back you see a trail of cheese and blood in swipes along the floor. Gross. You both take a moment to stare at the mangled remnants of the oddest creations you've ever seen in a town full of oddities. You wipe your stained shoe on the floor. “We need things,“ you say idly, “info, weapons, what-have-you.” Mr. Ewekes nods while rubbing his chin, “I have some books here on rats... and cheese... some weapons too but I feel like ta get rid of them we'll need somethin' very definite.” One of the most logical things that dummy has ever said. He hands a book on rats and a separate book on different cheese types as you follow him to his beat up old truck. A big, ugly thing that has fought against time to remain upright and running. As you close the door of the passenger seat, you're surprised and thankful it doesn't like cheese here. You barely pay attention to the journey into town as you flip through the pages of rat trivia. Poison works because it clogs their artertires... but does that work with cheese rats? Whiskers are important. You would have to see if they have any. Heat could work. Things melt in heat. Cheese melts in heat. It seems you have a few options. Mr. Ewekes slams his foot down on the pedal and the books are knocked out of your hands. You look around to see you're in town. Time flies when you're reading about impossible things. You step out and slam the door behind you. Mr. Ewekes comes over to your side on the sidewalk and you both look around the shops. “Alrighty, what's the plan then little Crown?” he asks. You scratch your head as you look at the hardware store. “That depends... how much do you give a shit about your house?” He thinks on this for a moment and then sighs exhausted “I just want those damn things gone.” You nod in response. <hr>\ * [[“We'll need razor blades and poison.”->Page 177A]] * [[“Flamethrower.”->Page 177AA]] * [[“Think we can find dynamite?”->Page 177AAA]] </h3>

<h3>He makes a noise in agreement and you two walk side by side to Milton's Hardware. People sitting on the benches and in the windows of the shops follow you as you pass by. That might not be looking solely at you though. It's true that after you Mr. Ewekes is a strong contender for second biggest freak in town. Mr. Ewekes holds the door open for you and you step into a store much bigger than what it appears on the outside. You mean that literally. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, just holler if you need assistance,“ he says candidly. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> As you attentively watch the aisle names pass by you ask, “why have you never tried to go to the mayor for this? Town hall? Anything before coming to me?” Mr. Ewekes eyes widen when he sees a state-of-the-art glinting saw displayed in the middle of the corridor that you both have to part to by-pass. “Course I did. They all might say I'm crazy but I ain't been thinkin' a kid would be better than the lawman.” He stops to examine some nails and you cross your arms as you wait for him. “I couldn't even get to see the mayor. Says he was too busy. Then they told me that my situation was a code green so they can't do anythin' and I can't either“ he grunts and catches up with you. Your nose pinches at that , “code green?” He points to the aisle you're looking for up ahead, “Jesus kid, don't ya know anything about yur own town?” Before you can answer him he turns into an aisle and quickly walks down it. You hurry to keep up as your eyes glide past the items hanging on the hooks and shelves. [[NEXT->Page 178A]] </h3>

<h3> Mr. Ewekes grabs a hanging pair of razor blades with sharp shiny edges, thinks better of it and begins grabbing handfuls. You look around the assortment on the opposite shelves for rat poison. Your eyes skim past the vampire poison, succubus poison, dog poison, human poison, then-... there! You hold the packaging showing a rather gruesome picture of a rat laying in a puddle of their own piss, shit and foam. You hold it up for Mr. Ewekes and he nods “yeah that'll do nicely.” After having the nervous ninth-grade cashier ring you out with a squeaky voice you leave and get into the rundown truck. You explain your game plan to Mr. Ewekes as he drives you back to his house. “Do you happen to have a big chunk of roadkill or at the very least a lot of it left for the regular feeding you give them?” Mr. Ewekes thinks for a moment and responds, “there's the torso of a deer I got last week. Gross piece of crap. Been waiting ta use it.” You hum and think of the logistics of your plan. “We... lead them. Or maybe... go to the basement... just an enclosed space where they can all be... they're distracted from eating and...,” you rub your cheek as you try to disentangle what your next move with the razors should be. “We could stick the blades inta the thing and while they be eatin' whatever ya want ta happen with happen,“ he finishes your idea. You stick up your thumb as you begin to think of how effective a half-assed plan formulated on light skimming of rat behaviour that might not pertain to this kind of rat. [[NEXT->Page 179A]] </h3>

<h3> Once Mr. Ewekes parks by his house, you both quickly take action. You follow him to the back end of his house where he says he keeps the roadkill. You see a freezer in the dusty room and expect him to go to it but instead he goes to a table and drags out a plastic bag. The stench hits and you feel bile lurching up your throat. Slapping a hand across your mouth, you lean against the wall and with your other hand you hug your stomach. He groans as he drags the bloody bag to the middle of the room. You feel the taste of vomit in your mouth and you don't even want to breathe through it in case you somehow get the taste of the deer torso's smell in your mouth as some smells are prone to do. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and sighs, dropping his arms lazily by his sides. He looks up at your position, braced by the wall and he rubs his chin. He goes over to the table again and moves aside the disorder on the top. He finds a mask and haphazardly dusts it off. He walks over to and stretches his hand out. It's one of the small, disposable masks you get at hospitals. A worse-for-wear dirty white thing that seems far too flimsy to help. <hr>\ * [[You take it.->Page 180A]] * [[Fuck this.->Page 180*]] </h3>

<h3> As fast as possible you bring the mask to your face and hook it to your ears. The moment you breathe in particles of dust enter your mouth and cough. You breathe in a second time and you notice that the smell of dust overwhelms the smell of roadkill. “Good kid?” Mr. Ewekes asks. You push off the wall and nod, “good.” “Ok help me drag this thing ta the basement then,“ he holds up one end and you grab the squishy plastic on the other end. You both lift it up at the same time and it's still heavier than you expected. Your shoulders strain under the pressure as you walk backwards into the corridor, Mr. Ewekes follows you. You keep trudging along the house, already beginning to feel tired when he says “there“ and gestures with his head to the door next to you. “Move, I'll go down first“ he says and you two switch places. He nudges the door open and cautiously you both go down the steps, with a deer torso hanging between you. The stairs creak under your heavy steps, the dust coating them rushes up and dances along your feet. You press your teeth together as the weight of the torso shoots hot pain down your arms. Mr. Ewekes breathes heavily, lifting his arm to wipe his forehead along his denim jacket. Two unprepared lunatics carrying a dead animal into a basement. There should be a joke there. The basement itself is musty, dusty and dim as the rest of the house is. A small window near the ceiling bravely fights to bring in some light through its dirty glass. You waddle to the middle of the room and let the bag fall on the floor. The force of the fall sends up a wave of dust, scattering to different parts of the room. Mr. Ewekes takes out a pocket knife and rips open the bag. You wipe your forehead. He throws you a few packs of razor blades and you squat near the deer as your fingers quickly work to open them. [[NEXT->Page 181A]] </h3>

<h3>You take out a small silver blade and hold it up to your eyes, the little bit of light from the window glints off of it. “So how do we-“ you begin to say when Mr. Ewekes stabs a razor into the deer, then takes his hand away and blood coats his fingers. He wipes them on his pants and takes out another one. You follow his lead and stick the blade into the deceased flesh of the deer. It gives in surprisingly easy, the meat opening apart to allow your fingers to touch inside of it. You watch as your fingertips are bathed in blood. The scarlet drops running lazily down your skin. It's so vibrant. You turn your hand, move it from front to back, the colour contrasting starkly with the darkness you've been exposed to today. Wow. A cough jostles you out of your thoughts and between your fingers you see Mr. Ewekes look at you oddly. Something he hasn't done all day. You wipe your fingers against your clothes and grab another razor. You two work efficiently and briskly, going around the torso to insert razors all over it. Once you run out of blades you wipe your hands over your top and stand up to survey your work. It looks like the kind of art project a child would make out of clay. “Hopefully their hunger is greater than their pain“ you whisper. Mr. Ewekes walks over to the steps and sits down. You walk over to stand near him, the step too small to fit both of you. You wait, your heartbeat slowly beating in your ears. You hear a scuttle at your left, far into the dark of the corners of the room. That was quick. You think maybe a few might come out to test the waters and as you see one small cheese rat scamper from the dark you're sure you'll be waiting a while for all of them. But it's followed speedily behind by a group. More come out from between boxes, under chairs, out of shoes. They waste no time with caution and descend like beasts upon the dead deer. They surround the sides, climb up it with ease, rip out chunks of flesh as if it were butter. Small sprays of blood fly through the air and hit your face. You drag a hand along your cheeks and over your nose. And all you hear is chewing. A unison chewing like a machine, they're in perfect synchronicity with each other. Trails of blood come from this feast, you can't tell if it's from the deer or the rats. Can these rats even bleed? “What do we do now?” Mr. Ewekes asks. With your eyes trained on the gross banquet you say absentmindedly “we could get an axe or something to kill them...” He gets up and walks somewhere to your right. The rats greedily chew pieces of meat in between their paws, rip pieces away from the mouths of others or just burrow into the flesh.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Mr. Ewekes comes back with a rusty axe, a hammer and an old machete. You take the... <hr>\ * [[Axe]] * [[Hammer]] * [[Machete]] </h3>

<h3> The seat isn't full of shit nor does it look dirty but you still don't think it's the best idea to touch any of the surfaces of this house. Once he sees that you aren't going to sit down, his lip twists. “Typical of your kind,“ he grunts. You cross your arms and bend your knee as you look from the seat to him and back. “I'm guessing that's supposed to be an insult.” He nods once. “Rich a-holes.” You snort but don't respond. You look around the room, breathing entirely from your mouth now. There's newspapers everywhere in all states of ravage. A singular picture is up on the wall of a man and a woman cutting a cake. A wedding. Mr. Ewekes follows your gaze and sighs and swears when he sees the picture. “May Abigail burn in the fiery pits of hell.” “How long has she been dead for?” you ask without much inflection. He looks at you with confusion, “dead? She ain't dead! She left me for a travelling salesman.” You make a face, “then why the hell do you still have her picture up?” He waves that question off and reaches under his seat for a box-shaped thing covered with a towel, “we ain't here to talk about that hoe, this is what I need ya for.” He places the box on his lap and throws off the towel to reveal a cage. You lean forward to see what's inside. In the middle of it is what looks like a big piece of cheese. [[NEXT->Page 173A]] </h3>

<h3> You don't know the habits of cheese rats but if they are looking for easy food opportunities you'd think a decrepit house, away from the main section of town, lived in by an old man who doesn't seem to have the capacity to provide good sustenance isn't the best choice. He shrugs “I guess they like how dirty, dark and dusty it is. The basement is dank too. Since I live alone I won't be able to get rid of them. I don't know the brain of a cheese rat but these fuckers seem smart.” You don't respond and with your hands on your hips and pace around the room, careful not to knock over the cage. Newspapers squelch under your shoes. “Have you tried anything to make them leave?” you ask, already knowing the answer. “Like what?” Great. You're not even on square one. Square zero with chances of slipping into the negatives. <hr>\ * [[“What about the smell?”->Page 175A]] * [[“Why haven't you moved?”->Page 175AAA]] * [[“Can you let it out?”->Page 175AAAA]] </h3>

<h3> You aren't the most well-versed in matters of money. You can't remember a time when you ever bought something for yourself. You can't remember a time any money you had on you came from somewhere else then your father. But, if your house is infested with cheese rats that eat meat, then no matter how little money you have, it's best to leave. Mr. Ewekes makes a face “leave? Why would I leave?” You spread your hands out “whyyyy? Your house is literally crawling with rats that could potentially grow too hungry and eat you one day.” “And that's why I ain't leaving“ he talks as if you've said something absurd. He gestures around the room “this place is ma home. I ain't gonna have some rat cheese things coming in and evicting me from ma home.” You bite your tongue from berating him. You've never understood the sentimental value people attach to their homes. It's just a place. A thing made from wood, ceramic, asbestos, drywall that doesn't feel anything. You can always have another one. “Ok“ you surrender. <hr>\ * [[“What about the smell?”->Page 175A]] * [[“Why won't they leave?”->Page 175AA]] * [[“Can you let it out?”->Page 175AAAA]] </h3>

<h3> You gesture to the cage and Mr. Ewekes looks shocked, the first emotion that isn't confusion or boredom that you've seen from him. “You wanna let that thing out? You fancy being a snack little Crown?” You want to roll your eyes but instead you say “I have to know what we're dealing with. We should be prepared for anything.” He still looks at you like you've gone insane but with great reluctance he kneels down and opens the little latch. He swings the little door out and the rat immediately begins sniffing around the door and Mr. Ewekes fingers. As Mr. Ewekes is moving his fingers away the rat bares its mouth down onto his thumb. Mr. Ewekes yelps and moves his hand away. The rat is attached to his thumb as the man gets up and thrushes his hand around. Rivulets of blood going down his thumb. Mr. Ewekes whips his hand forward and the rat detaches and slams against the wall with a loud thud. It falls to the ground and quickly jets across the floor, aiming for your feet. <hr>\ * [[You lift your foot up.->Page 176A]] * [[Stay where you are.->Pagw 176AA]] </h3>

<h3> Your brain isn't quick enough to catch onto what is happening and so you just stay put as the rat practically runs to your feet. Before it can lay claim to your shoe, Mr. Ewekes' boot comes down on it. A wet pop comes at the same time. When he lifts his foot a little mess of cheese and blood is all that's left. You both take a moment to stare at the mangled remnants of the oddest creations you've ever seen in a town full of oddities. You wipe your stained shoe on the floor. “We need things“ you say idly “info, weapons, what-have-you.” Mr. Ewekes nods while rubbing his chin “I have some books here on rats... and cheese... some weapons too but I feel like ta get rid of them we'll need somethin' very definite.” One of the most logical things that man has ever said. He hands a book on rats and a separate book on different cheese types as you follow him to his beat up old truck. A big, ugly thing that has fought against time to remain upright and running. As you close the door of the passenger seat, you're surprised and thankful it doesn't like cheese here. You barely pay attention to the journey into town as you flip through the pages of rat trivia. Poison works because it clogs their artertires... but does that work with cheese rats? Whiskers are important. You would have to see if they have any. Heat could work. Things melt in heat. Cheese melts in heat. It seems you have a few options. Mr. Ewekes slams his foot down on the pedal and the books are knocked out of your hands. You look around to see you're in town. Time flies when you're reading about impossible things. You step out and slam the door behind you. Mr. Ewekes comes over to your side on the sidewalk and you both look around the shops. “Alrighty, what's the plan then little Crown?” he asks. You scratch your head as you look at the hardware store. “That depends... how much do you care for your home?” He thinks on this for a moment and then sighs exhausted “I just want those damn things gone.” You nod in response. <hr>\ * [[“We'll need scissors and poison.”->Page 177A]] * [[“Flamethrower.”->Page 177AA]] * [[“Think we can find dynamite?”->Page 177AAA]] </h3>

<h3> You expect him to ask you why you require a flamethrower to get rid of some rats but he just shrugs and you two walk side by side to Milton's Hardware. People sitting on the benches and in the windows of the shops follow you as you pass by. That might not be looking solely at you though. It's true that after you Mr. Ewekes is a strong contender for second biggest freak in town. Mr. Ewekes holds the door open for you and you step into a store much bigger than what it appears on the outside. You mean that literally. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, just holler if you need assistance“ he says in a squeaky voice, his eyes going wide when he sees you. As you attentively watch the aisle names pass by you ask, “why have you never tried to go to the mayor for this? Town hall? Anything before coming to me?” Mr. Ewekes eyes widen when he sees a state-of-the-art glinting saw displayed in the middle of the corridor that you both have to part to by-pass. “Course I did. They all might say I'm crazy but I ain't been thinkin' a kid would be better than the lawman.” He stops to examine some nails and you cross your arms as you wait for him. “I couldn't even get to see the mayor. Says he was too busy. Then they told me that my situation was a code green so they can't do anythin' and I can't either“ he grunts and catches up with you. Your nose pinches at that, “code green?” He points to the aisle you're looking for up ahead, “jesus kid, don't ya know anything about yur own town?” Before you can answer him he turns into an aisle and quickly walks down it. You hurry to keep up as your eyes glide past the items hanging on the hooks and shelves. [[NEXT->Page 178AA]] </h3>

<h3> His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth slightly hangs ajar but he shakes it off and you two walk side by side to Milton's Hardware. People sitting on the benches and in the windows of the shops follow you as you pass by. That might not be looking solely at you though. It's true that after you Mr. Ewekes is a strong contender for second biggest freak in town. Mr. Ewekes holds the door open for you and you step into a store much bigger than what it appears on the outside. You mean that literally. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, just holler if you need assistance“ he says candidly. As you attentively watch the aisle names pass by you ask “why have you never tried to go to the mayor for this? Town hall? Anything before coming to me?” Mr. Ewekes eyes widen when he sees a state-of-the-art glinting saw displayed in the middle of the corridor that you both have to part to by-pass. “Course I did. They all might say I'm crazy but I ain't been thinkin' a kid would be better than the lawman.” He stops to examine some nails and you cross your arms as you wait for him. “I couldn't even get to see the mayor. Says he was too busy. Then they told me that my situation was a code green so they can't do anythin' and I can't either“ he grunts and catches up with you. Your nose pinches at that “code green?” He points to the aisle you're looking for up ahead “jesus kid, don't ya know anything about yur own town?” Before you can answer him he turns into an aisle and quickly walks down it. You hurry to keep up as your eyes glide past the items hanging on the hooks and shelves. [[NEXT->Page 178AAA]] </h3>

<h3> You and Mr. Ewekes skim the wall of flamethrowers. They have stocked all different types in terms of size, colour and additional gadgets. What's weird is that these are just here displayed without any protection, like the guns in the other aisle. A sign atop the flamethrowers advises to use it in the storage room in the back before buying. You see a plain black one, cheaper than the rest and hoist it off its display. Cradling it in your arms you turn to look at Mr. Ewekes and he caresses the thing, “I think this will do perfectly.” After having the nervous ninth-grade cashier ring you out with a squeaky voice you leave and get into the rundown truck. You explain your game plan to Mr. Ewekes as he drives you back to his house. “Do you happen to have a big chunk of roadkill or at the very least a lot of it left for the regular feeding you give them?” Mr. Ewekes thinks for a moment and responds, “there's the torso of a deer I got last week. Gross piece of crap. Been waiting ta use it.” You hum and think of the logistics of your plan. “We... lead them. Or maybe... go to the basement... just an enclosed space where they can all be... they're distracted from eating and...” you rub your cheek as you try to disentangle what your next move should be. Just fire? “We light those demons up and whatever ya thinkin' we can do after,“ he finishes your idea. You stick up your thumb as you begin to think of how effective a half-assed plan formulated on light skimming of rat behaviour that might not pertain to this kind of rat. [[NEXT->Page 179AA]] </h3>

<h3> There's many kinds of dynamite sold here. All categorized based on what the buyer wants to explode exactly. Great service. Your eyes quickly search through the dynamites for school buses, cemeteries, anthills and finally see the ones meant for home explosions. Each package comes with a warning to use responsibly and not on between the hours of 7-8PM on Thursdays. You grab the least expensive kind and pass it to Mr. Ewekes. He reads the packaging, his finger following the text and he grunts in response. You'll take that as 'this is fine let's take it.' After having the nervous ninth-grade cashier ring you out with a squeaky voice you leave and get into the rundown truck. You explain your game plan to Mr. Ewekes as he drives you back to his house. “Do you happen to have a big chunk of roadkill or at the very least a lot of it left for the regular feeding you give them?” Mr. Ewekes thinks for a moment and responds “there's the torso of a deer I got last week. Gross piece of crap. Been waiting ta use it.” You hum and think of the logistics of your plan. “We... lead them. Or maybe... go to the basement... just an enclosed space where they can all be... they're distracted from eating and...” you rub your cheek as you try to disentangle what your next step after that should be. Nothing else? Just blow it all up? “Then we throw these sticks in, take cover and wait to hear all those sons o' bitches die“ he finishes your idea. You stick up your thumb as you begin to think of how effective a half-assed plan formulated on light skimming of rat behaviour that might not pertain to this kind of rat. [[NEXT->Page 179AAA]] </h3>

<h3> Once Mr. Ewekes parks by his house, you both quickly take action. You follow him to the back end of his house where he says he keeps the roadkill. He lays the flamethrowers he has hoisted over his shoulders on top of a nearby worktable. You see a freezer in the dusty room and expect him to go to it but instead he goes to a table and drags out a plastic bag. The stench hits and you feel bile lurching up your throat. Slapping a hand across your mouth, you lean against the wall and with your other hand you hug your stomach. He groans as he drags the bloody bag to the middle of the room. You feel the taste of vomit in your mouth and you don't even want to breathe through it in case you somehow get the taste of the deer torso's smell in your mouth as some smells are prone to do. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and sighs, dropping his arms lazily by his sides. He looks up at your position, braced by the wall and he rubs his chin. He goes over to the table again and moves aside the disorder on the top. He finds a mask and haphazardly dusts it off. He walks over to and stretches his hand out. It's one of the small, disposable masks you get at hospitals. A worse-for-wear dirty white thing that seems far too flimsy to help. <hr>\ * [[You take it.->Page 180AA]] * [[Fuck this.->Page 180*]] </h3>

<h3> Once Mr. Ewekes parks by his house, you both quickly take action. You follow him to the back end of his house where he says he keeps the roadkill. He twists the plastic bag containing the dynamite around his wrist. You see a freezer in the dusty room and expect him to go to it but instead he goes to a table and drags out a plastic bag. The stench hits and you feel bile lurching up your throat. Slapping a hand across your mouth, you lean against the wall and with your other hand you hug your stomach. He groans as he drags the bloody bag to the middle of the room. You feel the taste of vomit in your mouth and you don't even want to breathe through it in case you somehow get the taste of the deer torso's smell in your mouth as some smells are prone to do. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and sighs, dropping his arms lazily by his sides. He looks up at your position, braced by the wall and he rubs his chin. He goes over to the table again and moves aside the disorder on the top. He finds a mask and haphazardly dusts it off. He walks over to and stretches his hand out. It's one of the small, disposable masks you get at hospitals. A worse-for-wear dirty white thing that seems far too flimsy to help. <hr>\ * [[You take it.->Page 180AAA]] * [[Fuck this.->Page 180*]] </h3>

<h3> You shake your head swiftly and behind your mouth your muffled words tumble out of your disgusted mouth to say, “nope. Nope. Nope. So fucked.” You don't elaborate as you stumble back, your feet colliding with each other. You breathe in deeply, blocking your nose and press your mouth closed, using your hands to guide you along the walls. Struggling with yourself in a state of anxiety, franticness and most likely the fumes of dead animal, you founder along the length of the house until you see the muted colours of the outdoors behind the screened door. <<set $outta to true>> You push it open with both hands and rush out into the open air. You exhale dramatically and then take long gulps of air. Your head slightly spinning. “Hey kid where are ya goin'?” you hear Mr. Ewekes yell from behind you. You run a hand through your hair and begin speed-walking down the front lawn. You stop yourself from outright running as you quickly start down the road towards home. You hear Mr. Ewekes' voice and spare him a glance over your shoulder. He's on his front porch with his arm up, waving you back but you just pick up your pace as your shins burn. Ignoring any calls of aid from that old man and his rotting house. Once you get back home you rush to your room without stopping to speak to anyone and throw yourself onto the bed. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Later on as you're sitting on the front porch, Mr. Ewekes comes out from the house and hands you a cloth to wipe your face and your hands. You must look like you've been in a fight. Mr. Ewekes leans on one of the beams and rubs his chin. He hasn't said much since you watched the rats die en masse, you're not even sure he's pleased. You rub your face roughly with the cloth, hoping that the specks of blood aren't so dried that you'll have to walk home like this. “Mighty kind of ya ta take a day off to help me with this“ he drawls. You wonder where he gets his accent from since no one else in town talks like that. “It wasn't anything, really“ you shrug. “So why'da do it?” he asks. You take a second to think about that. You had a half-baked motivation you haven't really examined. <hr>\ * [[You wanted to help.]] * [[You have a free schedule.]] * [[You don't know.]] </h3>

<h3> Mr. Ewekes hands it to you and you almost drop it due to the surprise of its heaviness. You hold the axe up with both hands and move it around, trying to get a feel for your intended purpose with it. As you imagine bringing the weight of the tool down upon the swarm of cheese meat-eating abominations you watch as one rat falls down to the floor. Its leg twitching. It's face? Gone. All that's left is a chunk of head with blood seeping out of the hole. It ate right through itself. You watch as another rat falls down its side, faceless. You bring the axe down as more and more rats collapse at the loss of their mouths, their snouts, their eyes. The unified chewing dissipates as rats try to chew as their mouths get cut up with blades. They fall on each other, pushing each other down from their spots atop the torso. You move your foot slightly and almost slip, using the handle of the axe as a cane. You see your shoes bathed in blood, the substance leaking in through the material and coating your socks. The chewing changes from erratic, to small pockets of groups around the roadkill to a few low chews in different areas to nothing at all. The rats all lie dead surrounding the dead deer torso. “I thought they would stop once their whiskers went“ you comment. [[NEXT->Page 182A]] </h3>

<h3> Mr. Ewekes hands it to you and you almost drop it more due to surprise than any perceived weight. You hold the hammer up with both hands and move it around, trying to get a feel for your intended purpose with it. As you imagine bringing the weight of the tool down upon the swarm of cheese meat-eating abominations you watch as one rat falls down to the floor. It's leg twitching. Its face? Gone. All that's left is a chunk of head with blood seeping out of the hole. It ate right through itself. You watch as another rat falls down its side, faceless. You let the hammer fall to your side as more and more rats collapse at the loss of their mouths, their snouts, their eyes. The unified chewing dissipates as rats try to chew as their mouths get cut up with blades. They fall on each other, pushing each other down from their spots atop the torso. You move your foot slightly and almost slip, using your other leg to maintain your balance. You see your shoes bathed in blood, the substance leaking in through the material and coating your socks. The chewing changes from erratic, to small pockets of groups around the roadkill to a few low chews in different areas to nothing at all. The rats all lie dead surrounding the dead deer torso. “I thought they would stop once their whiskers went“ you comment. [[NEXT->Page 182A]] </h3>

<h3> Mr. Ewekes hands it to you and you almost drop it as he hands it over, the blade facing you. You hold the machete up with both hands and move it around, trying to get a feel for your intended purpose with it. As you imagine bringing the weight of the tool down upon the swarm of cheese meat-eating abominations you watch as one rat falls down to the floor. It's leg twitching. Its face? Gone. All that's left is a chunk of head with blood seeping out of the hole. It ate right through itself. You watch as another rat falls down its side, faceless. You barely keep grip on the machete as more and more rats collapse at the loss of their mouths, their snouts, their eyes. The unified chewing dissipates as rats try to chew as their mouths get cut up with blades. They fall on each other, pushing each other down from their spots atop the torso. You move your foot slightly and almost slip, using the machete as a cane. You see your shoes bathed in blood, the substance leaking in through the material and coating your socks. The chewing changes from erratic, to small pockets of groups around the roadkill to a few low chews in different areas to nothing at all. The rats all lie dead surrounding the dead deer torso. “I thought they would stop once their whiskers went“ you comment. [[NEXT->Page 182A]] </h3>

<h3> As fast as possible you bring the mask to your face and hook it to your ears. The moment you breathe in particles of dust enter your mouth and cough. You breathe in a second time and you notice that the smell of dust overwhelms the smell of roadkill. “Good kid?” Mr. Ewekes asks. You push off the wall and nod “good.” “Ok help me drag this thing ta the basement then“ he holds up one end and you grab the squishy plastic on the other end. You both lift it up at the same time and it's still heavier than you expected. Your shoulders strain under the pressure as you walk backwards into the corridor, Mr. Ewekes follows you. You keep trudging along the house, already beginning to feel tired when he says “there“ and gestures with his head to the door next to you. “Move, I'll go down first“ he says and you two switch places. He nudges the door open and cautiously you both go down the steps, with a deer torso hanging between you. The stairs creak under your heavy steps, the dust coating them rushes up and dances along your feet. You press your teeth together as the weight of the torso shoots hot pain down your arms. Mr. Ewekes breathes heavily, lifting his arm to wipe his forehead along his denim jacket. Two unprepared lunatics carrying a dead animal into a basement. There should be a joke there. The basement itself is musty, dusty and dim as the rest of the house is. A small window near the ceiling bravely fights to bring in some light through its dirty glass. You waddle to the middle of the room and let the bag fall on the floor. The force of the fall sends up a wave of dust, scattering to different parts of the room. Mr. Ewekes takes out a pocket knife and rips open the bag. In a circular motion you rub your chest. “Alrighty let's get the thingamabobs“ he says and walks up the stairs skipping every other step. You follow, not as energetic. [[NEXT->Page 181AA]] </h3>

<h3> Carrying flamethrowers is as tedious and as hard as carrying down the torso was. When you reach the basement floor you see that the rats have already come, much quicker than expected. Seems they have no sense of self-preservation. They surround the sides, climb up it with ease, rip out chunks of flesh as if it were butter. Small sprays of blood fly through the air and hit your face. You drag a hand along your cheeks and over your nose. And all you hear is chewing. A unison chewing like a machine, they're in perfect synchronicity with each other. Trails of blood come from this feast, you can't tell if it's from the deer or the rats. Can these rats even bleed? “Hey“ Mr. Ewekes says and you glance at him as he's kneeling, running his hands along the flamethrower, a small booklet in his hand. You join him, sitting cross-legged like two little children in kindergarten. You pass the instructions back and forth, surprisingly enough it doesn't look too complicated, “surprisingly enough it doesn't look too complicated“ you murmur. Mr. Ewekes gets up and walks to one of the walls. Boxes upon boxes are crammed together there. He opens one up and sticks his arm instead. He takes out nothing and moves it aside. He does this action again and this time pulls out a dented, long plastic bottle. He reaches in once more and pulls out another one. He comes back over to you and sits down. He hands you one of the bottles and you lift it up to have the light catch the label. PROPANE. You unscrew the cap, look around the flamethrower for an opening, dodging Mr. Ewekes as he almost hits you with his own while looking for the same opening. Once you find it you dump the sharp smelling contents into your flamethrower to the very last drop. Once you fuel up you both rise and hoist your individual tools of destruction up by your chests, almost like rifles. You take a few steps back from the carnivorous feast and watch the rats viciously tear into the meat. Mr. Ewekes motions his head and you say... <hr>\ * [[“Let's rock'n'roll.”]] * [[“Fuck these motherfuckers.”]] * [[“We're firestarters honey.”]] </h3>

<h3> As fast as possible you bring the mask to your face and hook it to your ears. The moment you breathe in particles of dust enter your mouth and cough. You breathe in a second time and you notice that the smell of dust overwhelms the smell of roadkill. “Good kid?” Mr. Ewekes asks. You push off the wall and nod “good.” “Ok help me drag this thing ta the study then“ he holds up one end and you grab the squishy plastic on the other end. You both lift it up at the same time and it's still heavier than you expected. Your shoulders strain under the pressure as you walk backwards into the corridor, Mr. Ewekes follows you. You keep trudging along the house, already beginning to feel tired when he says “there“ and gestures with his head to the door next to you. “Move, I'll go in first“ he says and you two switch places. He nudges the door open and cautiously you both go take small steps into the room, with a deer torso hanging between you. The floorboards creak under your heavy steps, clouds of dust dance along your feet. You press your teeth together as the weight of the torso shoots hot pain down your arms. Mr. Ewekes breathes heavily, lifting his arm to wipe his forehead along his denim jacket. Two unprepared lunatics carry a dead animal into a room. There should be a joke there. The study itself is musty, dusty and dim as the rest of the house is. A small window very low down the wall bravely fights to bring in some light through its dirty glass. You waddle to the middle of the room and let the bag fall on the floor. The force of the fall sends up a wave of dust, scattering to different parts of the room. Mr. Ewekes takes out a pocket knife and rips open the bag. You drag a hand down your face. Mr. Ewekes unravels the tightly wound bag from around his wrist and pulls out a stick of dynamite. He throws it up and catches it in his hand. [[NEXT->Page 181AAA]] </h3>

<h3> He tosses you a stick and you catch it with one hand. Your reflex better than usual. Mr. Ewekes reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, small and blue. It's almost comical that that is what you'll be using to blow up a section of his house. Mr. Ewekes grimly looks down at the torso and leans back against a desk. You walk over and join him. As your butt touches the wood you hear a rustling from somewhere in the house. It isn't a low sound either. It's loud and it sounds like tens of tiny feet scratching against a surface. They're climbing up the stairs of the basement. Before either of you can prepare yourselves they rush in through the door frame. A seemingly endless carpet of yellow squeezing into the room. They waste no time with caution and descend like beasts upon the dead deer. They surround the sides, climb up it with ease, rip out chunks of flesh as if it were butter. Small sprays of blood fly through the air and hit your face. You drag a hand along your cheeks and over your nose. And all you hear is chewing. A unison chewing like a machine, they're in perfect synchronicity with each other. Trails of blood come from this feast, you can't tell if it's from the deer or the rats. Can these rats even bleed? Mr. Ewekes moves around the banquet of blood and kneels with one knee to gently lay a dynamite stick, face-up. He looks to you and you move across from him to the other side of the roadkill to do the same. He grabs two more sticks and tosses one across the commotion to your waiting hands. You both work quickly to surround the torso in a circle of dynamite. You straighten up and look at your macabre art-piece. It could almost pass for a satanic ritual, the dynamite sticks just large candles. A pool of blood moves out from the feast and coats the sticks and your shoes in brilliant ruby-red. The colour so bright that it could almost look beautiful in a different setting. M.r Ewekes presses down on the button of the lighter and a little flame comes to life. However, it wavers and you both look at each other. You'll have to be quick before it runs out of fuel. He moves around his side and brings the small flame to the wicks. They light slowly and without theatrics. He finishes and tosses the lighter to you. You do your dynamite, winching as the lick of the flame burns the tip of your thumb. You don't have time to observe the dancing dots of light around the torso before Mr. Ewekes takes you by the arm and pulls you out of the room. You briskly walk down the hall and out of the house. You think he'll stop when you're on the front lawn but he leads you to the road and then across, heading for the woods. Once you reach the edge of the trees he lets you go and hides behind a trunk. You hide behind one next to him and you peek out from behind it. The house looks so normal for a place that currently has dynamite burning one of its rooms. <hr>\ * [[Oh god.]] * [[Fuck yeah.]] * [[Our Father...]] </h3>

<h3> Not the most original one-liner but it's a classic for a reason. Mr. Ewekes and you both press the triggers and a cloud of flames shoot out simultaneously, the reaction so immediate and strong that you feel the warmth licking your face and involuntarily take a step back. The flames envelop the torso and the rats in a bright terror that makes you squint your eyes, having been used to being in a dark house all day. You don't move your finger from the trigger as you walk around where the torso is. Or should be. You can't exactly see any of it. Mr. Ewekes follows your lead and you end up on opposite sides of each other. You flamethrowers pointed down at your target. You feel your toes warm and look down to see the tips of your shoes scorched by the fire. Sweat pours down your forehead and glides over your eyes. You blink the salty evidence of your exertion away and continue to circle around the roadkill. You scream as Mr. Ewekes accidentally lifts up his flamethrower slightly and momentarily burns your legs. “Sorry!“ he yells over the commotion. You drop your arms and the flame goes out. Mr. Ewekes does the same. You wipe your eyes as you assess the extent of the damage. The smell of burned flesh and cheese penetrates your mask and you fling it off in time for the smoke to waft into your nostrils. If anyone came in they wouldn't know what they were looking at. In between you lies a charred shape, surrounded by a burned pool of cheese. “Well that's one way to do it“ you quip. [[NEXT->Page 182AA]] </h3>

<h3> Not your most eloquent. But who can blame you? Mr. Ewekes and you both press the triggers and a cloud of flames shoot out simultaneously, the reaction so immediate and strong that you feel the warmth licking your face and involuntarily take a step back. The flames envelop the torso and the rats in a bright terror that makes you squint your eyes, having been used to being in a dark house all day. You don't move your finger from the trigger as you walk around where the torso is. Or should be. You can't exactly see any of it. Mr. Ewekes follows your lead and you end up on opposite sides of each other. You flamethrowers pointed down at your target. You feel your toes warm and look down to see the tips of your shoes scorched by the fire. Sweat pours down your forehead and glides over your eyes. You blink the salty evidence of your exertion away and continue to circle around the roadkill. You scream as Mr. Ewekes accidentally lifts up his flamethrower slightly and momentarily burns your legs. “FUCK!“ he yells over the commotion. You drop your arms and the flame goes out. Mr. Ewekes does the same. You wipe your eyes as you assess the extent of the damage. The smell of burned flesh and cheese penetrates your mask and you fling it off in time for the smoke to waft into your nostrils. If anyone came in they wouldn't know what they were looking at. In between you lies a charred shape, surrounded by a burned pool of cheese. “Well that's one way to do it“ you quip. [[NEXT->Page 182AA]] </h3>

<h3> Yeah, you definitely stole that. Modification is the key to plagiarism. Mr. Ewekes and you both press the triggers and a cloud of flames shoot out simultaneously, the reaction so immediate and strong that you feel the warmth licking your face and involuntarily take a step back. The flames envelop the torso and the rats in a bright terror that makes you squint your eyes, having been used to being in a dark house all day. You don't move your finger from the trigger as you walk around where the torso is. Or should be. You can't exactly see any of it. Mr. Ewekes follows your lead and you end up on opposite sides of each other. You flamethrowers pointed down at your target. You feel your toes warm and look down to see the tips of your shoes scorched by the fire. Sweat pours down your forehead and glides over your eyes. You blink the salty evidence of your exertion away and continue to circle around the roadkill. You scream as Mr. Ewekes accidentally lifts up his flamethrower slightly and momentarily burns your legs. “Oh!“ he yells over the commotion. You drop your arms and the flame goes out. Mr. Ewekes does the same. You wipe your eyes as you assess the extent of the damage. The smell of burned flesh and cheese penetrates your mask and you fling it off in time for the smoke to waft into your nostrils. If anyone came in they wouldn't know what they were looking at. In between you lies a charred shape, surrounded by a burned pool of cheese. “Well that's one way to do it“ you quip. [[NEXT->Page 182AA]] </h3>

<h3> Later on as you're sitting on the front porch, Mr. Ewekes comes out from the house and hands you a cloth to wipe your face and your hands. You must look like you've been playing with matches and a way you have. Mr. Ewekes leans on one of the beams and rubs his chin. He hasn't said much since you watched the rats die en masse, you're not even sure he's pleased. You rub your face roughly with the cloth, hoping that the specks of blood aren't so dried that you'll have to walk home like this. Nothing to be done about your burnt clothes. “Mighty kind of ya ta take a day off to help me with this“ he drawls. You wonder where he gets his accent from since no one else in town talks like that. “It wasn't anything, really“ you shrug. “So why'da do it?” he asks. You take a second to think about that. You had a half-baked motivation you haven't really examined. <hr>\ * [[You wanted to help.]] * [[You have a free schedule.]] * [[You don't know.]] </h3>

<h3> You hadn't been thinking about the fact that you're actually going to use explosives to blow up a man's room. Now that you can stop and truly think about it... you really should've given this more thought. “Maybe we should move...” you get cut off when you see a side of the house explode and duck behind the trunk, sliding down to the ground with your hands covering your head. The force of the blast pushes the tree against your crouched body and clouds of dirt cover you from head to toe. You furiously wipe your eyes and cough out dirt. You blink away the earth from your eyes and wave your hand in front of you to clear the dust obscuring your vision. You try to peek out from behind the tree to see the house but there's too much debris in the air to get a clear view of the damage. Mr. Ewekes coughs a few feet away from you and shakes dirt and wood from his shaggy hair. He wipes off the sleeves of his jacket and notices you looking at him. He has a strange look to his face. Not sorrow exactly, but closer to that than happiness or relief. You close your eyes, you did blow up his house. You get up and out from the woods. The street is lined with building material, blood and splotches of incinerated pools that must be cheese. You've managed to close down this road for the time being. You and Mr. Ewekes step over the now disarrayed and filthy lawn, kicking aside wood and broken furniture while glass crushes beneath your shoes. To your immense surprise you find the house still standing. Part of the porch is missing, half of the house is gone, the corridor is exposed but it's still covered by a ceiling just like the other side of the house. You move to go where you think the room where the dynamite exploded was but Mr. Ewekes holds an arm out. You see that the floor has caved in there into what looks like the basement. Mr. Ewekes sucks on his lower lip, “the kitchen is still there, wanna a drink?” [[NEXT->Page 182AAA]] </h3>

<h3> Just like in the movies. Although you kind of wish these trees weren't here and you were walking away in slow-motion like a badass. Is this plan kind of stupid? Yes. Is it fun as hell? Yeah. “Fuck me this would be good with some...” you get cut off when you see a side of the house explode and duck behind the trunk, sliding down to the ground with your hands covering your head. The force of the blast pushes the tree against your crouched body and clouds of dirt cover you from head to toe. You furiously wipe your eyes and cough out dirt. You blink away the earth from your eyes and wave your hand in front of you to clear the dust obscuring your vision. You try to peek out from behind the tree to see the house but there's too much debris in the air to get a clear view of the damage. Mr. Ewekes coughs a few feet away from you and shakes dirt and wood from his shaggy hair. He wipes off the sleeves of his jacket and notices you looking at him. He has a strange look to his face. Not sorrow exactly, but closer to that than happiness or relief. Keeping a straight face you laugh on the inside, you did blow up his house. You get up and out from the woods. The street is lined with building material, blood and splotches of incinerated pools that must be cheese. You've managed to close down this road for the time being. You and Mr. Ewekes step over the now disarrayed and filthy lawn, kicking aside wood and broken furniture while glass crushes beneath your shoes. To your immense surprise you find the house still standing. Part of the porch is missing, half of the house is gone, the corridor is exposed but it's still covered by a ceiling just like the other side of the house. You move to go where you think the room where the dynamite exploded was but Mr. Ewekes holds an arm out. You see that the floor has caved in there into what looks like the basement. Mr. Ewekes sucks on his lower lip, “the kitchen is still there, wanna a drink?” [[NEXT->Page 182AAA]] </h3>

<h3> You should've been praying since the moment you bought the dynamite. Hell, since the moment you thought of the idea. You don't even know you knew a prayer, but that's usually what happens to sinners at death's door. They remember to secure goodwill. “I should've made a wil-“ you get cut off when you see a side of the house explode and duck behind the trunk, sliding down to the ground with your hands covering your head. The force of the blast pushes the tree against your crouched body and clouds of dirt cover you from head to toe. You furiously wipe your eyes and cough out dirt. You blink away the earth from your eyes and wave your hand in front of you to clear the dust obscuring your vision. You try to peek out from behind the tree to see the house but there's too much debris in the air to get a clear view of the damage. Mr. Ewekes coughs a few feet away from you and shakes dirt and wood from his shaggy hair. He wipes off the sleeves of his jacket and notices you looking at him. He has a strange look to his face. Not sorrow exactly, but closer to that than happiness or relief. You offer him a sympathetic smile, you're just happy to be alive. Even if you did blow up his house. You get up and out from the woods. The street is lined with building material, blood and splotches of incinerated pools that must be cheese. You've managed to close down this road for the time being. You and Mr. Ewekes step over the now disarrayed and filthy lawn, kicking aside wood and broken furniture while glass crushes beneath your shoes. To your immense surprise you find the house still standing. Part of the porch is missing, half of the house is gone, the corridor is exposed but it's still covered by a ceiling just like the other side of the house. You move to go where you think the room where the dynamite exploded was but Mr. Ewekes holds an arm out. You see that the floor has caved in there into what looks like the basement. Mr. Ewekes sucks on his lower lip, “the kitchen is still there, wanna a drink?” [[NEXT->Page 182AAA]] </h3>

<h3> Later on as you're sitting on the front porch, Mr. Ewekes comes out from the house and hands you a cloth to wipe your face and your hands. You must look like you've been digging through ancient ruins for a Mayan tomb. You set down the moonshine you had received from Mr. Ewekes. He leans on one of the beams and rubs his chin. He hasn't said much since you watched his house get completely trashed, you're sure he's not pleased. You rub your face roughly with the cloth, hoping that most of the dirt gets off or you'll have to walk home like this. “Mighty kind of ya ta take a day off to help me with this“ he drawls. You wonder where he gets his accent from since no one else in town talks like that. “It wasn't anything, really“ you shrug. “So why'da do it?” he asks. <<set $dynamite to true>> You take a second to think about that. You had a half-baked motivation you haven't really examined. <hr>\ * [[You wanted to help.]] * [[You have a free schedule.]] * [[You don't know.]] </h3>

<h3> Seems very altruistic of you. You can't recall a time you've ever done anything for anyone else. You guess you've been unintentionally selfish. Just like your sister. It also makes you feel powerful in a way, you've hardly ever done something right. However, you question if it's a truly selfless act if you get something out of it. “Seemed right“ you reply. He chuckles and you decide not to question his reaction. You two let the silence speak for itself. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small figurine. He motions for you to take it and you do. It's a small wooden owl, its big eyes painted a warm shade of brown. “Ya can take that if ya want or have some money.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[You take the owl.]] * [[You ask for money.]] </h3>

<h3> It's a practical answer, isn't it? No pretense of moral obligation, just the simple fact that you felt you needed to fill your day. Truth is you don't remember an instance in which you've ever done something out of the goodness of your heart. A bit of a self-centred life. Kind of like //her.// “It needed to be done,” you reply. He shakes his head and you decide not to question his reaction. You two let the silence speak for itself. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small figurine. He motions for you to take it and you do. It's a small wooden owl, its big eyes painted a warm shade of brown. “Ya can take that if ya want or have some money.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[You take the owl.]] * [[You ask for money.]] </h3>

<h3> It seemed like an impulse, someone had asked you for assistance and you kept that thought in your mind. You don't know what that says about you as a person. You can't even come up with a good reason as to why you do the things you do. Maybe because you've never been allowed to choose what to do. “Does it matter?” you reply. He sighs and you decide not to question his reaction. You two let the silence speak for itself. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small figurine. He motions for you to take it and you do. It's a small wooden owl, its big eyes painted a warm shade of brown. “Ya can take that if ya want or have some money.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[You take the owl.]] * [[You ask for money.]] </h3>

<h3> “The owl's nice,” you say as a way of acceptance. Mr. Ewekes gives you a lopsided smile and nods. <<set $owl to true>> After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at Mr. Ewekes' house dealing with an infestation. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to the parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a rustling on the other end and a gruff voice answered, “kid! I just wanted to check on and tell ya how's it been in ma house without the rats.” <<if $dynamite>>You listened as he rattled off the benefits of living in a house without the smell of cheese and roadkill. He finished off by yelling, “oh! I've also told some folks in town whatcha did for me and they've been curious! Just so ya know ya might be gettin' calls soon, ya've got yurself a future business!“ <<elseif not $dynamite>> You listened as he rattled off the benefits of living in a house without the smell of cheese and roadkill. Of course you didn't mention that he didn't have much of a home left. He finished off by yelling, “oh! I've also told some folks in town whatcha did for me and they've been curious! Just so ya know ya might be gettin' calls soon, ya've got yurself a future business!“<</if>> Your eyes had widened as you stammered out, “what do you mean I might be getting some business? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Anyway I know yur busy being a youth and all so I'll let ya go! See ya around little Crown and if ya ever need anythin' just holler!“ he replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> “I'll find more uses for cash than for an owl“ you say nonchalantly. You hand the owl back and Mr. Ewekes doesn't say anything with his words or his face about your choice. He sticks a few fingers into the square pocket of his denim jacket and pulls out a crumpled fifty. <<set $money to true>> After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at Mr. Ewekes' house dealing with an infestation. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to the parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a rustling on the other end and a gruff voice answered “kid! I just wanted to check on and tell ya how's it been in ma house without the rats.” You listened as he rattled off the benefits of living in a house without the smell of cheese and roadkill. He finished off by yelling, “oh! I've also told some folks in town whatcha did for me and they've been curious! Just so ya know ya might be gettin' calls soon, ya've got yurself a future business!“ Your eyes had widened as you stammered out “what do you mean I might be getting some business? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Anyway I know yur busy being a youth and all so I'll let ya go! See ya around little Crown and if ya ever need anythin' just holler!“ he replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> And now here you are, sitting on your windowsill, watching the goings-on of the vast world outside your window. Partaking in habits, healthy and not. Today is much slower than yesterday. You've taken your breakfast, you've spent a bit of time staring at your walls and successfully avoided the help — or was it them avoiding you? <<if $owl>>\ You placed the owl Mr. Ewekes gave you on your nightstand, making sure to have its eyes stare away from you. You don't think you've been given something crafted before and even if it's not your usual decor choice, it's the thought that counts right? Or is that for Christmas? <<elseif $money>>\ The money Mr. Ewekes gave you is burning a hole in the pocket of the pants you were warning that are currently sitting atop your hamper. You don't know if they're even salvageable. You also don't know what to do with that money. Call it privilege or not, but you've never needed to buy anything. You'll save it for something. Maybe. <<elseif $bird>>\ That red bird Tina gave you is on the floor by your bed. You didn't want its beady eyes staring at you while you slept or sat on your bed. You already have enough nightmare fuel. You question yourself as to why you decide to accept it in the first place. It's a morbid thing. Maybe that's why. <<elseif $Tmoney>>\ The money Tina reluctantly parted with for you is somewhere in your room. At least you think. You might've thrown it out, along with the rest of your clothes. There a was smell to them you couldn't stand that was soon stinking up your room. <<elseif $tackle>>\ The bright colored tackle created by Asia is sitting on your dresser. Carefully placed there by you. You can't help but feel a certain sense of pride when you look at it. You did something and you were given something for it. You were responsible, crafty and resourceful. At least you hope that's what it was and not dumb luck. <<elseif $outta>>\ You don't regret getting the hell out of there while you could. That job was above your pay-grade and you didn't even know if you were going to be paid. You thought that would be the last of that until people started calling the house, asking you to help them with such-and-such. Desperation is a powerful thing. <<elseif $fish>>\ The fish came this morning, brought by a young boy on a bicycle. It was wrapped in brown paper and its smell was very poignant. Luckily you got to the maid who had answered the door in time and told her not to mention this to Sally. It was stored for a future meal. <<elseif $Nothing>>\ You don't have anything physical, apart from the bump on your head to show for your efforts of yesterday. Which is just as well, your brother finds out you almost died helping Asia you would both get into trouble. You might've not been successful or gotten anything of value from it but at least you're alive, if that counts for anything. <<elseif $sidefour>>\ Sally was in a good mood with you ever since you got back from your outing. Such a good mood that even Percy was weirded out and tried to goad him to no avail. <</if>> You stop doing the things that have been occupying your hands and mind for the last hour and set your things to the side. You lean your head against the frame of the window and let your eyes wander without purpose through the leaves of your tree. You feel a touch on your skin, goosebumps rise on your arms and you look down to see your own finger touching your scar. Another habit you've collected. You wonder if one day you'll remember how you got it. You move your finger and by extension your hand away from your scar and move it behind you, moving your flat hand along the items on the desk you pushed against the window this morning to have a place to put your things in easy reach. Your hand slaps against the wooden surface and you groan as you blindly search for the feeling of paper. “Shit“ you mumble and actually turn your head to look at what you're feeling for. You see the newspaper at the furthest corner of the desk and stretch your arm out. Your fingers touch the edge of the paper and you drag it slowly to you, once it's within easier reach you yank it to you and lay it on your lap. You unfold it and smooth the creases you hand made earlier at breakfast. [[NEXT->Page 184]] </h3>

<h3> You see no harm in positioning yourself next to her and mimicking her stance. It brings you nearly within kissing distance of the piece she's looking at. “At least you aren't so highfalutin that you don't go fake gagging“ she says. You lift a finger up and lightly touch, what you now know is a raccoon. It feels like plastic. “Do you have a bad impression of all rich people?” you ask. She snorts and leans her hand against her cheek. “Why wouldn't I?” You click your tongue and drop this line of conversation. You move your eyes once again to the frames on the wall. You see that the woman in the pictures is photographed always smiling, the camera clearly loves her. Tina straightens up and walks over to one of the pictures. She presses her finger against the face of the pretty woman “my girlfriend“ she says wistfully. “Her name is Rebecca.” She lets her finger trail down Rebecca's face to her body and look away from that display, feeling like you should be blushing. The fact that she has a girlfriend does make you curious for a moment, it's not like you don't think you haven't met a lesbian it's more so no one has ever said it to you so brazenly. “She's very pretty“ you comment. “Does she work here with you?” Tina sounds less like a bitch when she talks about her lover. She turns around and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back against the wall, her head hiding the picture from view. “Have you ever seen her work here?” she responds in an annoyed tone “she's in Europe, at school.” You push off the table “you must call each other all the time.” Her eyes narrow and it seems like she's stopping herself from saying something but just sighs “anyway... I need you here because of this“ she walks over to the piece you were both looking at and snaps her fingers. Nothing happens. Maybe she has some of those lights that turn on with sound? But you look around and everything's the same. That's when you see the raccoon open its mouth. [[NEXT->Page 173B]] </h3>

<h3> Being so close to one of her life-like creations makes your nose wrinkle so you lean against the wall near a corner of the only available space in the room. “Typical of your kind of people... too high and mighty“ she says pointedly. You examine your short nails. Your sister always used to do this when your parents had something to say to her. “So you just hate all of //my kind//?” you ask. She snorts and leans her hand against her cheek. “Why wouldn't I?” You roll your eyes and decide you don't care to hear more. You move your eyes once again to the frames on the wall. You see that the woman in the pictures is photographed always smiling, the camera clearly loves her. Tina straightens up and walks over to one of the pictures. She presses her finger against the face of the pretty woman “my girlfriend“ she says wistfully. “Her name is Rebecca.” She lets her finger trail down Rebecca's face to her body and look away from that display, too embarrassingly intimate for you. The fact that she has a girlfriend does make you curious for a moment, it's not like you don't think you haven't met a lesbian it's more so no one has ever said it to you so brazenly. “She's a looker“ you comment. “Where the hell is she?” Tina sounds less like a cunt when she talks about her lover. She turns around and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back against the wall, her head hiding the picture from view. “Watch your words“ she responds in an annoyed tone “she's in Europe, at school.” You push off the wall “I'm guessing you spend hundreds on long distance calls.” Her eyes narrow and it seems like she's stopping herself from saying something but just sighs “anyway... I need you here because of this“ she walks over to the piece you were both looking at and snaps her fingers. Nothing happens. Maybe she has some of those lights that turn on with sound? But you look around and everything's the same. That's when you see the raccoon open its mouth. [[NEXT->Page 173B]] </h3>

<h3> You watch as it stretches its mouth wide open, ripping apart the edges of it's natural mouth. It stops when it's opened so wide that it reminds of that famous painting The Scream. It's rows of teeth perfectly white and sharp in a dried hole with flapping tongue. “What the hell-“ “Just wait for it“ she says with an anticipatory glint in her eyes. You stare at the exposed and stretched open mouth of what should be a dead raccoon and watch as its mouth slowly comes down to press its teeth together, no, not press, but grind. Its large canines scrape against each other. You take a few steps closer as the grinding makes a noise that almost sounds like dragging a fork against a ceramic plate. It moves its mouth open again but not so wide. Its tongue flops around its mouth like a gasping fish. The pink worm touches the roof of its mouth and then slides behind its bottom front row teeth. “Give...me...food...” a raspy voice says directly from the raccoon's mouth. You walk backwards until you feel the hard wall behind you. Croun is a weird place, that's true but you've never encountered talking dead animals before. Talking taxidermy dead animals. Just your luck. A live animal talking would look and feel much less weirder than this raccoon looks like exerting itself to speak to you. “So this is why they're sick,” Tina finally speaks. “Sick? Sick or alive?” your ask incredulously. [[NEXT->Page 174B]] </h3>

<h3> Tina rolls her eyes at you, “obviously they're //dead// $name. I pulled out their entrails myself, heart, lungs and brains too. They're hollowed out. And this is the first time they've been doing all of this, really bad for business.” You pinch the bridge of your nose “alright, fine, they're dead. And they didn't speak before all this. I got that. What did you do to make them like this?” She scoffs and haughtily throws her head over her shoulder “I didn't do anything. One day I was working on a piece and all of a sudden it started telling me that it hurt, then another asked me if I knew their owner and it dominoed from there.” Maybe it's because you don't have any pets but people who do and stuff them are odd to you. The raccoon starts lowly moaning, a few words are audible and all it's asking is to be fed. You wonder how that works with something that no longer has a digestive system. <hr>\ * [[“Have they all started to talk?”->Page 175B]] * [[“Could it be that this is a bad batch?”]] * [[“Why don't you just change jobs?”]] * [[“Do you mind if I touch it?”]] </h3>

<h3> She jumps, startled by your suggestion. You splay your arms open, as a sign that you don't mean offence by it. “C'mon... it's not a crazy idea. It'd be a foolproof plan unlike any other plans we could come up with that leave you worse off“ you explain. Tina exhales dramatically through her nose “yes it is a fucking crazy idea. I've done this all my fucking life! I don't know how to do anything else!“ Her voice raises in anger. You hold up your hands “ok! ok! Calm down! It was just a suggestion-“ “Easy for you to say you rich asshole! You can just drop something like it's nothing because you have money“ she continues on without hearing you. You groan as you witness a tirade of anti-rich sentiments. If only she knew that your family didn't have a pot to piss in. After a few more minutes of name-calling and aggressive hair-twirling she slows down and stands rather unsure in the middle of the room. “Ok, that's a no“ you mutter. <hr>\ * [[“Have they all started to talk?”->Page 175B]] * [[“Could it be that this is a bad batch?”]] * [[“Do you mind if I touch it?”]] </h3>

<h3> Tina gives you a questioning look and you point to the raccoon. She does a double take and looks at you like you've gone insane, a familiar look you get. “It's one to touch it when it's asleep! You want that thing to get a taste for human blood?” You bite back a few choice words you'd like to give her for making this more difficult with her commentary but you refrain and reply “it's better to know everything, so it's easier to find a solution.” She closes her mouth in a grim line and shakes her head in resignation. Not a yes but also acknowledging she can't stop you. You slowly walk over to the table and prop your elbows against it, your face coming within biting distance of its wet breath. You swallow a ball of vomit that threatens to climb up your throat. You steel yourself and raise a singular finger to its teeth, knowing that this a stupid idea that could get you maimed. Ultimately you've suffered through worse pains. You could survive without a finger. It feels like forever until the nerves at the tip of finger make contact with the sharpest canine tooth in the raccoon's mouth. It doesn't feel any different, no abnormal magic emanating from it. Good, you won't have to get to a witch. <hr>\ * [[You move your finger in deeper.->Page 176B]] * [[Snatch it away.]] </h3>

<h3> “I don't just mean the ones in the shop, but also the ones you've sold, the ones that were bought way before the talking even started“ you inquire. She twists a lock of her hair along her finger and pensively looks at the moving mouth and then around all the animals in the room. A room of shrieking souls. “Yes and no“ she sighs. “Yes to the other ones in the shop, yes to the ones that have recently been sold, yes to those that were returned but no to the ones that have long since belonged to other people.” You nod, as if this were the most normal thing to obviously happen. “And is this all they do? Talk?” she shoots you a look and you raise your hands up in a gesture of peace “I don't mean to downplay the talking.” Tina pulls on the lock she was twirling around her finger and lets out a frustrated noise “whatever humans can do with their mouths I supposed these things can do with theirs. They just can't move, my craftsmanship makes sure it's impossible for them to rip from their stands without some violence.” <hr>\ * [[“Could it be that this is a bad batch?”]] * [[“Why don't you just change jobs?”]] * [[“Do you mind if I touch it?”]] </h3>

<h3> Bravely you venture past the front row of teeth, aiming to touch the wiggling pink tongue when you feel its mouth rapidly closing you bite your finger off. Before you can move safely away, it clamps down upon the tip. You draw your other hand back and slam it into its face. The raccoon lets out a noise, clutters across the table and goes crashing to the floor. You look at your finger, a spot of blood blooms near your nail. Tina walks over to pick up the raccoon, who is still glued to its platform. Like she said it would be. She sets it back on the table, the raccoon spitting out the tiny bit of blood it got from you. “We'll need to get any relevant books about this and probably some material to shut them up or make them stop talking.” “I've already thought about that and read some stuff but none of it made any sense to me, you take a look, maybe your weird brain will come up with something“ she says and walks over to a small little shelf hanging above one of the worktables. You clench your teeth at her comment, fucking asshole. She drops a series of stacked books on your waiting hands and without a word picks unhooks a set of keys from a hook by the front door. “C'mon then, daylight is wasting away“ she says to you and pushes the door open. With heavy books in hand you follow behind her. When you get outside, Tina grabs a handful of the books and leaves you with one, “when you're done put it back and take it another one.” You absentmindedly follow behind her and quickly try to skim the relevant information before you get to wherever you're going. There's some Native American lore on animals who act as guides throughout your life, but you don't think that means they talk. There's stories of people swearing their dog is trying to talk to them. The mention of demons catches your eye. Could this be a possession? Or maybe in the afterlife animals get the ability to talk. You could also do a much crueler method. You bump into Tina, she yelps as she tries to keep hold of all the books she's holding. One slips from her cradling arms and you deftly catch it. She shoots you a look and then motions with her head “ok, so what now? The library?” You look at the old, decaying building across the street. You don't remember the last time you stepped foot in there. You're pretty sure it's looked like that since it was first built. “How much help could it be? Aren't books about otherworldly things forbidden?” Tina shakes her head and walks over to a public trash can to dump the books in. “Miss Norris likes me.” She grabs the book in your hand and also throws it in the trash. <hr>\ * [[“We need a book on exorcisms.”->Page 177B]] * [[“We need a book on ghosts.”]] * [[“How's your sewing?”]] </h3>

<h3>She raises her eyebrow at you but you don't elaborate. You stalk towards the library and don't wait to see if she'll follow. You hear quickening steps on the pavement and she catches up to you. You pass a few people sitting on benches, walking leisurely along the scenic sidewalks or cruising slowly down the road. They all more or less shout a greeting to Tina. Her face morphs into a grin and with all the friendliness she hasn't shown to you she answers in kind. You push open the opaque glass doors and blink your ears several times to see the space in front of you. You're at the front lobby, the librarian's desk is at your left and ahead of you are rows of long study desks and behind that are the grande shelves. It's always very dark in here, Miss Norris says the sunlight bothers the wood and the books. Miss Norris herself is loudly stamping a book, she closes it, adds it to a pile on her right and takes another book from a pile on her left, opens it and stamps it too. She hasn't aged a day since you were a kid, the same gray hair tied in a severe bun. “Let me handle this,“ Tina murmurs and places a strained but believable smile on her face as she goes over to the desk. You hear sounds coming from their mouths but they're whispering at such low tones you can't make out what they're saying. You lean against the wall with your arms crossed and wait. After about two minutes, Miss Norris closes the open book on her desk, walks out from behind it and with no sound to her footsteps she strides down to the other side of the library, where the books are. Tina walks over to you without a word but doesn't take a spot next to you by the wall. “If you have such connections, why couldn't you get someone like the mayor to help you?” you ask. Tina picks up a book left on a one of the tables. She flips through it without stopping to read anything. “Maybe you with your fancy name can do that but the rest of us have to make do with what we have and who we can realistically see in a day“ she drops the book and twirls her hair along her finger. “The mayor never sees anyone, much less is he gonna see a nobody taxidermist like me. Anyway, I know what they'd tell me, they'd see its a code green and it'll just have to suck it up“ she hisses, angry at this imaginary conversation with city hall. Your eyebrows raise at that, “what's code green?” You see the figure out Miss Norris come from in between the darkness admidst the shelves. Tina glances at you curiously, “and you say you've lived here your whole life?” You don't have time to answer her as Miss Norris is within earshot. Without looking at either of you she hands a small non-descript book to Tina and walks back to her place behind the desk. [[NEXT->Page 178B]] </h3>

<h3> You quickly move your finger back. The creature snaps its mouth shut and open, then again and again. Every time its teeth collide it sounds like a hard flick. You don't know much about taxidermy, maybe Tina replaces the teeth but since there seems to be some supernatural elements at play its best not to test your luck. Tina walks over to pick up the raccoon, who is still glued to its platform. Like she said it would be. She sets it back on the table, you could swear its eyes glare at you. “We'll need to get any relevant books about this and probably some material to shut them up or make them stop talking.” “I've already thought about that and read some stuff but none of it made any sense to me, you take a look, maybe your weird brain will come up with something“ she says and walks over to a small little shelf hanging above one of the worktables. You roll your tongue around your mouth, some people just thrive on being rude. She drops a series of stacked books on your waiting hands and without a word unhooks a set of keys from a hook by the front door. “C'mon then, daylight is wasting away“ she says to you and pushes the door open. With heavy books in hand you follow behind her. When you get outside, Tina grabs a handful of the books and leaves you with one, “when you're done put it back and take it another one.” You absentmindedly follow behind her and quickly try to skim the relevant information before you get to wherever you're going. There's some Native American lore of animals who act as guides throughout your life, but you don't think that means they talk. There's stories on people swearing their dog is trying to talk to them. The mention of demons catches your eye. Could this be a possession? Or maybe in the afterlife animals get the ability to talk. You could also do a much crueler method. You bump into Tina, she yelps as she tries to keep hold of all the books she's holding. One slips from her cradling arms and you deftly catch it. She shoots you a look and then motions with her head “ok, so what now? The library?” You look at the old, decaying building across the street. You don't remember the last time you stepped foot in there. You're pretty sure it's looked like that since it was first built. “How much help could it be? Aren't books about otherworldly things forbidden?” Tina shakes her head and walks over to a public trash can to dump the books in. “Miss Norris likes me.” She grabs the book in your hand and also throws it in the trash. <hr>\ * [[“We need a book on exorcisms.”->Page 177B]] * [[“We need a book on ghosts.”]] * [[“How's your sewing?”]] </h3>

<h3>She raises her eyebrow at you but you don't elaborate. You stalk towards the library and don't wait to see if she'll follow. You hear quickening steps on the pavement and she catches up to you. You pass a few people sitting on benches, walking leisurely along the scenic sidewalks or cruising slowly down the road. They all more or less shout a greeting to Tina. Her face morphs into a grin and with all the friendliness she hasn't shown to you she answers in kind. You push open the opaque glass doors and blink your ears several times to see the space in front of you. You're at the front lobby, the librarian's desk is at your left and ahead of you are rows of long study desks and behind that are the grande shelves. It's always very dark in here, Miss Norris says the sunlight bothers the wood and the books. Miss Norris herself is loudly stamping a book, she closes it, adds it to a pile on her right and takes another book from a pile on her left, opens it and stamps it too. She hasn't aged a day since you were a kid, the same gray hair tied in a severe bun. “Let me handle this,“ Tina murmurs and places a strained but believable smile on her face as she goes over to the desk. You hear sounds coming from their mouths but they're whispering at such low tones you can't make out what they're saying. You lean against the wall with your arms crossed and wait. After about two minutes, Miss Norris closes the open book on her desk, walks out from behind it and with no sound to her footsteps she strides down to the other side of the library, where the books are. Tina walks over to you without a word but doesn't take a spot next to you by the wall. “If you're allowed to read books on paranormal phenomena then you must have some influence. Why don't you get the mayor to step in?” you ask. Tina picks up a book left on one of the tables. She flips through it without stopping to read anything. “I'm not __allowed__ to do anything. I can't go out to the park with a book on ghosts in hand and read it in front of everyone,“ she drops the book and twirls her hair along her finger. “No one has seen the mayor in a long while, and if he ever does appear it won't be for a taxidermist like me. Anyway, I know what he'd tell me, he'd say its a code green and it'll just have to suck it up“ she hisses, angry at this imaginary conversation with city hall. Your eyebrows raise at that, “what's code green?” You see the figure out Miss Norris come from in between the darkness amidst the shelves. Tina glances at you curiously, “are you sure you were raised here?” You don't have time to answer her as Miss Norris is within earshot. Without looking at either of you she hands a small nondescript book to Tina and walks back to her place behind the desk. [[NEXT->Page 178BB]] </h3>

<h3> She raises her eyebrow at you but you don't elaborate. Instead of the library you swiftly turn the corner and head towards the general store. You hear quickening steps on the pavement and she catches up to you. You pass a few people sitting on benches, walking leisurely along the scenic sidewalks or cruising slowly down the road. They all more or less shout a greeting to Tina. Her face morphs into a grin and with all the friendliness she hasn't shown to you she answers in kind. You push open the recently wiped glass doors and blink your ears several times to see the space in front of you. You're at the front lobby, the librarian's desk is at your left and ahead of you are rows of long study desks and behind that are the grande shelves. It's always very dark in here, Miss Norris says the sunlight bothers the wood and the books. How the hell did you end up at the library? Miss Norris herself is loudly stamping a book, she closes it, adds it to a pile on her right and takes another book from a pile on her left, opens it and stamps it too. She hasn't aged a day since you were a kid, the same gray hair tied in a severe bun. “So if you have the intention of entering the library you'll be there no matter what“ Tina murmurs and places a strained but believable smile on her face as she goes over to the desk. Of course, you had forgotten. You hear sounds coming from their mouths but they're whispering at such low tones you can't make out what they're saying. You lean against the wall with your arms crossed and wait. After about two minutes, Miss Norris closes the open book on her desk, walks out from behind it and with no sound to her footsteps she strides down to the other side of the library, where the books are. Tina walks over to you without a word but doesn't take a spot next to you by the wall. “What did you ask her for? All we need is some needles and thread. We could've and should've gone to the general store for that“ you complain. Tina picks up a book left on one of the tables. She flips through it without stopping to read anything. “I have needles and thread. She has some contraband, some things that can put a giant to sleep and I'd rather that than hear the screaming“ she drops the book and twirls her hair along her finger. Contraband? The restrictions make for lucrative business. “So you really couldn't have gone to the mayor for this?” you ask. “Yeah sure, let me just call him up. I have a direct line, he gave it to me on one of our many golf outings“ she snarks. “No use. I know what those people will say //it's a code green, nothing to be done//“ she hisses, angry at this imaginary conversation with city hall. Your eyebrows raise at that “what's code green?” You see the figure out Miss Norris come from in between the darkness amidst the shelves. Tina glances at you curiously “did you hit your head hard while you were gone?” You don't have time to answer her as Miss Norris is within earshot. Without looking at either of you she hands a small unlabelled bottle to Tina and walks back to her place behind the desk. [[NEXT->Page 178BBB]] </h3>

<h3>Once again you find yourself flagging behind Tina while reading the small book she instantly thrusts into your hands once you leave the library. She wipes her hands against her jeans, as if by merely touching it she had stained herself. Common sentiment among the townies. You flip through the worn and yellowed pages, brittle to the touch. //Mr. Croun's Compendium of Demonic exorcisms.// You scan the small letters detailing information on the book's author. An //Alistair Croun.// You don't remember ever hearing of him. Published 1902. You go to the section of demonic possession in animals. Alistair says that demons apparently don't have much control over who or what they possess as proven by the illogical choices of some cases. You bet getting stuck in a glorified stuffed toy wasn't their first choice. “Ok, according to this book we'll need a cross, some holy water and someone able to recite the passages written down here in latin“ you explain as you sidestep a bench. Tina slows down her walk with a wrinkled expression on her face “I got a cross at the shop but I don't have holy water nor do I know how to speak latin.” You think about the little you know pertaining to the church. Your parents weren't avid goers nor did you have many religious texts at home. “Um..” you $habit as you try to think this through “I guess what makes holy water holy water is being blessed, you just need to bless it so we'll bless it“ you say. This plan sounds as shaky as your voice. “I'll read the latin.” Tina looks at you, entirely unconvinced as you feel. But she just sticks a thumb up. It's not like either of you have a better plan anyway. Great, a quickly put together plan standing on unstable foundations based off of two seconds of reading and a shotty memory on basic religion. You steal a glance at Tina. Her side profile gives nothing away on her mood. She hasn't even said a kind word to you all day. And yet, you're here, doing this favour for her. Possibly risking death or amputation. Should you still do this? <hr>\ * [[Yes, you should.->Page 179B]] * [[She can go to hell.->Page 179B*]] </h3>

<h3> You've dealt with worse things. With worse people. You're made of thicker stuff. The rest of the way to the shop you talk about what to do if this doesn't work, solutions include setting fire to the whole building, bombing it, throwing the taxidermy into the trash and setting up business as a painter. Of course, you don't mean those things... who in their right mind would think bombing a building is an option? The shop is just as Tina left it. Except now instead of one talking raccoon, all the animals have woken up and are all in various states of distress. If you paid attention to one voice you could make out what's been said but you let the wave of voices wash over you as you get to work. You open the book and begin practicing your latin. Unfortunately your parents never let you learn another language so your pronunciation could be better. “Do-min-us“ you sound out “po-ten-tia“ you rub your cheek. All this looks like gibberish and you sound like you're speaking gibberish. Tina snickers at your attempt to say what you think is the word evil. Luckily for you Alistair not only has an exorcism spell here but also a shorter and simpler spell on turning water into holy water. She brings over a small water bottle and places it near you. “Do you wanna bless this water or shall I?” she asks. The implication is there. Whoever does this has to do the exorcism while the other takes charge of holding the animals in place. <hr>\ * [[“I'll do it.”->Page 180B]] * [[“Be my guest.”]] </h3>

<h3> You hold your hand over the water as you've seen the priests do in the movies. With the book in your other hand you begin to shoddily recite the old words, not understanding even half of what you're saying. You do hope your lack of holiness doesn't prevent the water from receiving whatever blessings it needs. “Amen“ you finish off and make the sign of the cross. “Is that it?” Tina asks as you move back from your attempted miracle. “Well if it isn't we'll know really soon“ you reply and take the bottle in hand. It doesn't feel any heavier, maybe divine blessing is lightweight. Tina begins grabbing as much of her creations as she can without exposing her skin to their chattering teeth. She places them all together in the middle of the room. Shit. //I should've brought salt,// you think. It doesn't mention the need for salt in the book but you've also seen that in the movies and so it wouldn't hurt. It would make Tina's job easier. But she's been mean so she can suffer for a bit. Your eyes wander to the open shop window, a group of preteens slow down to watch the spectacle. You hastily walk over and bring down the velvet curtains. What you're doing is illegal. Any snot-nosed little brat tells their parents and you and Tina will be sharing a jail cell in the precinct. Unless they outright kill you. You don't know how much of that is a joke. Tina nods her head at your quick thinking and goes to turn on the lights. She has one of those slider light switches and so she only slightly illuminates the room. It ends up looking like perfect lighting for an exorcism for lack of candles. You feel a sharp pain on your leg and look down to see a fox gnawing on your skin. You shake it off and then kick it in the face. You lift up your leg to view the damage. A ripped hole and puncture wounds quickly spouting blood. “We're going to have to exorcise you next, aren't we?” Tina snarks. You give her the middle finger. A mentally ill former hospital patient having an exorcism. Quite fitting. You're surprised your parents never tried it. Clearly the lack of progress with doctors should've given them a desperate measures mindset. Tina grabs a bat she has laying against the wall and you position yourself across from her. You flip to the page on exorcisms and lift up the water bottle. A shooting pain goes up your leg from the bite at that moment.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You stomp your foot down and flex it, hoping to overcome pain by sheer force of will. Tina gets into position, the bat clenched in both hands looking like a batter. [[NEXT->Page 181B]] </h3>

<h3> Tina holds her hand over the water as you've seen the priests do in the movies. With the book in her other hand she begins to shoddily recite the old words, neither of you understanding even half of what she's saying. You do hope her lack of holiness doesn't prevent the water from receiving whatever blessings it needs. “Amen,“ she finishes off and makes the sign of the cross. “It's done?” you ask as she moves away from her attempted miracle. “I think so. Don't know if it worked though,“ she replies and takes the bottle in hand. Moving it up and down. You begin grabbing as much of her creations as you can without exposing your skin to their chattering teeth. You place them all together in the middle of the room. Shit. //You don't have salt,// you think. It doesn't mention the need for salt in the book but you've also seen that in the movies and so it wouldn't hurt. It would make your job easier. Story of your life. Your eyes wander to the open shop window, a group of preteens slow down to watch the spectacle. You hastily walk over and bring down the velvet curtains. What you're doing is illegal. Any snot-nosed little brat tells their parents and you and Tina will be sharing a jail cell in the precinct. Unless they outright kill you. You don't know how much of that is a joke.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Tina nods her head at your quick thinking and goes to turn on the lights. She has one of those slider light switches and so she only slightly illuminates the room. It ends up looking cozy, a nice atmosphere for any heart-to-hearts. You hear a yelp and look up to see a fox gnawing on Tina's leg. She shakes it off and then kicks it in the face. She lifts up her leg to view the damage. A ripped hole and puncture wounds quickly spouting blood. “I'm gonna have to exorcise you next huh?” you snark. She gives you the middle finger. A mentally ill former hospital patient giving an exorcism. Quite fitting. You're surprised your parents never tried that on you. Clearly the lack of progress with doctors should've given them a desperate measures mindset. You grab a bat Tina has laying against the wall and you position yourself across from her. You watch as she flips to the page on exorcisms and lifts up the water bottle. She winces and shakes out her leg. You get into position, the bat clenched in both hands looking like a batter. [[NEXT->Page 181B*]] </h3>

<h3> You clear your throat and begin your recitation. //“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”// Your voice fills the room with its cadence. Not such a fumbling mess as with the holy water. //“Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus: et fugiant-“// the murmurings of the animals begin to raise in sound and you look to Tina's face. She mouths to you 'keep going.' //“...qui oderunt eum a facie ejus.”// The wolf you kicked earlier starts howling like a wounded animal. No, not wounded, angry. //“Sicut deficit fumus...”// the dim lights overhead begin to flicker and the shadows of the words on the page begin bleeding into each other. You bring the book closer to your face. “FUCK!“ You whip your head up to see Tina bat away a chipmunk that somehow managed to rip itself away from its standing. It goes hurtling to the wall and slides down with a thump. //“...d-deficiant. Sic-sic-sicut fluit cera a facid...”// you squint your eyes “no... not facid.. //facie?//“ something growls near your foot and you step back. The words on the page disappear as the room falls into complete darkness. “Tina?!“ you yell as you hear a multitude of tiny steps scurrying in front of you. Something climbs onto your foot and you yelp. You kick it away. You hear a crash somewhere in the darkness in front of you. The window is behind you right? You haven't moved, have you? Another thing latches onto your foot and another onto your other one. You try to shake them off but they dig their nails into your legs as they begin crawling up your body. You think of grabbing them but you remember your hands have the only thing that could make this all stop. You bite back a scream as you feel tiny paws rip into your shirt and cling onto your stomach. A light shines in your face. You close them and feel the two animals being ripped away from your clothes. “Keep going!“ Tina's voice forces you to open your eyes. She stands in front of you, holding a flashlight. She stomps on a stuffed animal trying to climb onto her shoe. She grabs the water bottle and begins throwing it onto the roaming taxidermy. As they're coated with the water they begin to screech horrifically. You try to ignore the sounds they make and brace yourself, saying //“-ignis, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei!“// <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> Your legs want to give out under you but you aren't that dramatic so you force yourself to find a seat. Tina gives you a look and takes a sip from a plastic water bottle. Physically you don't feel that tired but emotionally it feels like you've been hit in the face with a bat. Tina begins ordering things, putting things away and throwing other things out. You lay your elbows on your knees, propping your head with the gentle skin of your palms. Your eyes watch her, not bothering to offer to help. You've done enough. Tina twirls a lock of her hair and walks out of the store without another word. She must trust you enough to mind it now. You feel the beady glassy eyes of the animals on you. How can such lifeless eyes look so condemning? You try to ignore the prickly feeling at the back of your neck and lean your body against the back of the chair. A groan dances from your throat to the space in the room. You must've dozed off because the sound of the shop door opening startles you awake and almost tips you over. Tina throws a small wrapped bundle on your lap. You unwrap it and are greeted with a soggy, deflated burger. Seriously, it looks like it's been stomped on. Beggars can't be choosers, you haven't eaten for hours. You bite into the sad excuse for a fast food meal and roll around the rough and flavourless contents in your mouth. Your taste buds won't thank you for that. An appropriate end to your adventure you suppose. Weak, wobbly legs and some processed shit. “You didn't have to do this $name Crown, do you really have nothing to do?” Tina asks, seated on a table furthest away from you. This must be her way of asking you for a reason. <hr>\ [[It's your good deed for the day.]] [[Lack of entertainment.]] [[No fucking reason.]] </h3>

<h3> You grab a nearby pair of scissors and hurl it towards the wall, then pick up a book and slam it against the floor. Tina gives you a look and takes a sip from a plastic water bottle. Physically you don't feel that tired but emotionally it feels like you've been hit in the face with a bat. “Are you done?” Tina asks. She begins ordering things, putting things away and throwing other things out. You eventually manage to drag yourself to a nearby chair and lay your elbows on your knees, propping your head with the gentle skin of your palms. Tina twirls a lock of her hair and walks out of the store without another word. She must trust you enough to mind it now. You feel the beady glassy eyes of the animals on you. How can such lifeless eyes look so condemning? You try to ignore the prickly feeling at the back of your neck and lean your body against the back of the chair. You run your hands roughly through your hair. You must've dozed off because the sound of the shop door opening startles you awake and almost tips you over. Tina throws a small wrapped bundle on your lap. You unwrap it and are greeted with a soggy, deflated burger. Seriously, it looks like it's been stomped on. Beggars can't be choosers, you haven't eaten for hours. You bite into the sad excuse for a fast food meal and roll around the rough and flavourless contents in your mouth. Your taste buds won't thank you for that. An appropriate end to your adventure you suppose. A little tantrum and some processed shit. “You didn't have to do this $name Crown, do you really have nothing to do?” Tina asks, seated on a table furthest away from you. This must be her way of asking you for a reason. <hr>\ [[It's your good deed for the day.]] [[Lack of entertainment.]] [[No fucking reason.]] </h3>

<h3> You land squarely on your ass, a sharp pain reverberating up your back. You splay your legs out in front of you. Tina gives you a look and takes a sip from a plastic water bottle. Physically you don't feel that tired but emotionally it feels like you've been hit in the face with a bat. Tina begins ordering things, putting things away and throwing other things out. You eventually manage to drag yourself to a nearby chair and lay your elbows on your knees, propping your head with the gentle skin of your palms. Tina twirls a lock of her hair and walks out of the store without another word. She must trust you enough to mind it now. You feel the beady glassy eyes of the animals on you. How can such lifeless eyes look so condemning? You try to ignore the prickly feeling at the back of your neck and lean your body against the back of the chair. A tired sigh blowing out from your mouth. You must've dozed off because the sound of the shop door opening startles you awake and almost tips you over. Tina throws a small wrapped bundle on your lap. You unwrap it and are greeted with a soggy, deflated burger. Seriously, it looks like it's been stomped on. Beggars can't be choosers, you haven't eaten for hours. You bite into the sad excuse for a fast food meal and roll around the rough and flavourless contents in your mouth. Your taste buds won't thank you for that. An appropriate end to your adventure you suppose. An aching butt and some processed shit. “You didn't have to do this $name Crown, do you really have nothing to do?” Tina asks, seated on a table furthest away from you. This must be her way of asking you for a reason. <hr>\ [[It's your good deed for the day.]] [[Lack of entertainment.]] [[No fucking reason.]] </h3>

<h3> After disposing of the now truly dead taxidermies, you find yourself sitting on the bottom step of the shop's entrance. Tina walks out cleaning her hands with paper towel. She looks down to see you and hands you it. “You couldn't get me a clean one?” you ask annoyed. She shrugs. You take it press it against the bite mark on your leg that's mostly dried. To your surprise Tina actually comes down the steps and sits down next to you. She hugs her knees and watches the people walk pass. “I can't believe that wasn't a total failure“ she states. You look at her expectantly but she doesn't look like she wants to say more. “Yeah, it got close though“ you shove the paper towel inside your pocket. “I don't think you're stupid, so why the hell did you accept a job you know you'll probably fuck up?” she asks. You scoff. The last thing you want to do is give her an in-depth justification for something you hadn't even thought much of yourself. <hr>\ * [[It's your good deed for the day.]] * [[Lack of entertainment.]] * [[No fucking reason.]] </h3>

<h3> The truth is, you seldom do things for other people. You've spent the last eighteen years of your life preoccupied with yourself. Of course with your issues... who wouldn't? But there must be some benefit to helping other people. At the very least there's no visible disadvantages. Maybe you like feeling competent for once, you don't muck up everything you touch. “Take this as my chance at doing some good“ you answer. She raises her eyebrows but doesn't comment. You two eat in silence. As the last morsel of the dry burger goes down your throat you crumple the wrapping and stand up. There's no more reason for you to stay. “Wait“ Tina says and walks through a small doorway that from the few glances you gave it told you it was some form of storage. She comes out with a taxidermy bird in her hands. “You can have this or money whatever,” she looks down at it and then at you “it's a Scarlet Tanager, rare around these parts. One of the ones I made before the animals got sick.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[Take the bird.]] * [[Demand money.]] </h3>

<h3> You're kind of a hermit. You hardly ever leave the manor. Something that doesn't bother you much but it's nice every once and a while to get your heart pumping. You've been wasting away in a hospital for two years. You need any excuse to go outside that has little to do with socializing with your peers. “There's nothing good on TV“ you answer. She laughs and it startles you, neither of you comment on that. You two eat in silence. As the last morsel of the dry burger goes down your throat you crumple the wrapping and stand up. There's no more reason for you to stay. “Wait“ Tina says and walks through a small doorway that from the few glances you gave it told you it was some form of storage. She comes out with a taxidermy bird in her hands. “You can have this or money whatever,” she looks down at it and then at you “it's a Scarlet Tanager, rare around these parts. One of the ones I made before the animals got sick.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[Take the bird.]] * [[Demand money.]] </h3>

<h3> You can try and pull something out of your ass, something that sounds poetic, sentimental and generous but you see no point. It doesn't matter why you did this, it only matters that it's done. You don't understand why people always have the need to ask for a reason to do something. “Does it matter?” you ask. Tina shakes her head and shrugs, the conversation dies. You two eat in silence. As the last morsel of the dry burger goes down your throat you crumple the wrapping and stand up. There's no more reason for you to stay. “Wait“ Tina says and walks through a small doorway that from the few glances you gave it told you it was some form of storage. She comes out with a taxidermy bird in her hands. “You can have this or money whatever,” she looks down at it and then at you “it's a Scarlet Tanager, rare around these parts. One of the ones I made before the animals got sick.” You hadn't even given it a thought that you would get some recompense for this. Lorcan's rants about the class disparity in this town rings in your ears. You've never thought about money or any form of payment for work. You've never even worked. <hr>\ * [[Take the bird.]] * [[Demand money.]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the red bird frozen forever in place and it seems so familiar to you. “Bird's fine“ you say and Tina unloads it onto your hands. <<set $bird to true>> After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at Tina's shop dealing with talking dead animals. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a rustling on the other end and a subdued voice answered “$name, it's me. I called to tell you that everything is fine, your solution worked like a charm.” You heard her long minute explanation of how much better the shop feels without whining creatures disturbing her every move. Apparently she's now got more motivation. You stop paying attention until she departs by saying, “a few folks have been asking me about how I did it. I told them all about you, you can thank me later for getting you more business.” Your eyes had widened as you almost yelled “what the fuck does that mean? Tina I don't need more business what the hell-“ “Yeah so I'm busy with a dog for a client, but yeah... thanks. See you in town!“ she replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the red bird frozen forever in place and it seems so familiar to you. “I want money“ you say and Tina lets out a frustrated sigh but throws the bird on the table and reaches into her back pocket. <<set $Tmoney to true>> After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at Tina's shop dealing with talking dead animals. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a rustling on the other end and a subdued voice answered “$name, it's me. I called to tell you that everything is fine, your solution worked like a charm.” You heard her long minute explanation of how much better the shop feels without whining creatures disturbing her every move. Apparently she's now got more motivation. You stop paying attention until she departs by saying “a few folks have been asking me about how I did it. I told them all about you, you can thank me later for getting you more business.” Your eyes had widened as you almost yelled “what the fuck does that mean? Tina I don't need more business what the hell-“ “Yeah so I'm busy with a dog for a client, but yeah... thanks. See you in town!“ she replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3> [[NEXT->Page 183]]

<h3> “Like where exactly did you get them from? Did you change suppliers or use a different brand of materials?” She brings the lock of her hair and moves it along her mouth, lowered eyebrows to signify she's lost in thought. She blows the lock away “it's usually animals that have died from diseases or were euthanized since it's against the law to bury pets within the town.” Your eyebrows raise at that, you've never thought to think how a town as strange as this deals with their dead. “But no, it's the same person who always sells it to me. And before you go start thinking so bullshit, I haven't made enemies with them“ she leans against a table and crosses her legs. You sigh internally, things are solemn ever that easy for you. <hr>\ * [[“Have they all started to talk?”->Page 175B]] * [[“Why don't you just change jobs?”]] * [[“Do you mind if I touch it?”]] </h3>

<h3> You have enough bullshit going on in your life to handle something that isn't your responsibility. Your pace falters and Tina gets several steps ahead of you before she notices. She turns around and places her hands on her hips with a confused look in her eye. “What is it?” she asks. You grimace and pinch your eyebrows together as you look her up and down. She follows your eyes and her face twists into an unpleasant expression “have something to say $name?” “I could spend the whole afternoon here telling you what I have to say but I don't fancy wasting more of my time“ you say with a haughty tone you don't usually employ. She looks away and snorts. You see she's trying to figure out something to say but you've had enough of giving her that satisfaction of pissing all over you. You examine your nails in an overt display of arrogance and beat her to a reply without changing your tone “just save your breath on whatever stupid fucking thing you have to say because I don't care and frankly no one else does either.” Without lifting your eyes to see her expression you turn on your heel and almost strut down the street until you turn a corner and are out of her field of vision. “Bitch!“ you hear from somewhere far. In a casual pace you find your way home through town like you did the other day. Exhausted, you trudge up the steps in front of your house, up the staircase in the foyer and into your room to land unceremoniously on your bed. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3>Once again you find yourself flagging behind Tina while reading the small book she instantly thrusts into your hands once you leave the library. She wipes her hands against her jeans, as if by merely touching it she had stained herself. Common sentiment among the townies. You flip through the worn and yellowed pages, brittle to the touch. //Ms. Croun's Guide to Ghost Influence.// You scan the small letters detailing information on the book's author. An //Alyssa Croun.// You don't remember ever hearing of her. Published 1897. You go to the section of tethered animal spirits. Alyssa says animals have souls and that just like humans can stay stuck to the place they died, so can animals if they have unfinished business. “Ok, according to this book we don't really need any material, that is if the animals don't request for a specific thing“ you explain as you sidestep a bench. Tina slows down her walk with a wrinkled expression on her face “you're saying we have to pamper these things for them to leave?” You nod without looking up. You think about the little you know pertaining to mediums and the like. Your parents never allowed you to speak to the lady who always had a tent perched at the annual fair. “Um..” you $habit as you try to think this through, “it seems fairly simple. They just need someone to listen to them,“ you say. This plan sounds as shaky as your voice. “I don't think they'll demand anything outrageous.” Tina looks at you, entirely unconvinced as you feel. But she just sticks a thumb up. It's not like either of you have a better plan anyway. Great, a quickly put together plan standing on unstable foundations based off of two seconds of reading and a shotty memory on basic religion. You steal a glance at Tina. Her side profile gives nothing away on her mood. She hasn't even said a kind word to you all day. And yet, you're here, doing this favour for her. Possibly risking death or amputation. Should you still do this? <hr>\ * [[Yes, you should.->Page 179BB]] * [[She can go to hell.->Page 179B*]] </h3>

<h3> Once again you find yourself flagging behind Tina while examining the small bottle she immediately thrusts into your hands. She wipes her hands against her jeans, as if by merely touching it she had stained herself. Common sentiment among the townies. YAs you turn the bottle around and around and upside down you notice a small and worn little sticker at the bottom. In faded letters, //Ash Crown's Sleep Fixer.// You squint. //Ash Crown.// You don't remember ever hearing of them. Made in 1927. You unscrew the tap and breathe in the contents. A sharp, sweet smell assaults your senses and you wrinkle your nose. It smells like that syrupy medicine for coughs. It must be legitimate then. “So according to Miss Norris this stuff will knockout taxidermy creatures that have come to life?” you ask as you sidestep a bench. Tina slows down her walk with a wrinkled expression on her face “obviously not in those words... but it's strong, stronger than drug store stuff.” You think about the task you've set up for yourself. The morality of sewing a creature's mouth shut is a bit spotty. “Um..” you $habit as you try to think this through “we'll double the dose of what we think is appropriate“ you say. This plan sounds as shaky as your voice. “Then we'll quickly shut them up.” Tina looks at you, entirely unconvinced as you feel. But she just sticks a thumb up. It's not like either of you have a better plan anyway. Great, a quickly put together plan standing on unstable foundations based off of two seconds of reading and a shotty memory on basic religion. You steal a glance at Tina. Her side profile gives nothing away on her mood. She hasn't even said a kind word to you all day. And yet, you're here, doing this favour for her. Possibly risking death or amputation. Should you still do this? <hr>\ * [[Yes, you should.->Page 179BBB]] * [[She can go to hell.->Page 179B*]] </h3>

<h3> You've dealt with worse things. With worse people. You're made of thicker stuff. The rest of the way to the shop you talk about what to do if this doesn't work, solutions include setting fire to the whole building, bombing it, throwing the taxidermy into the trash and setting up business as a painter. Of course, you don't mean those things... who in their right mind would think bombing a building is an option? The shop is just as Tina left it. Except now instead of one talking raccoon, all the animals have woken up and are all in various states of distress. If you paid attention to one voice you could make out what's been said but you let the wave of voices wash over you as you get to work. You open the book and analyze the various methods of ways to speak to spirits. Your many years in therapy might actually aid you in using your doctor's tricks against you, against them. “Take a soothing tone to your voice,“ you read and scratch your head. What does that sound like? “hElLo,“ you try out and Tina snickers but quickly covers it up with a cough. Luckily for you Alyssa uses words like 'low,' 'slow,' and 'akin to a nurturing mother' to describe what you're supposed to emulate. Tina walks over to you and takes the book out of your hands to quickly skim it, “ok, so someone should be in charge of the actual therapy and the other person should do the butler's work.” She hands the book back with an arched eyebrow. At least she's giving you a choice. <hr>\ * [[“I'll play Sally Jessy Raphael.”->Page 180BB]] * [[“Give me the uniform.”]] </h3>

<h3> You've dealt with worse things. With worse people. You're made of thicker stuff. The rest of the way to the shop you talk about what to do if this doesn't work, solutions include setting fire to the whole building, bombing it, throwing the taxidermy into the trash and setting up business as a painter. Of course, you don't mean those things... who in their right mind would think bombing a building is an option? The shop is just as Tina left it. Except now instead of one talking raccoon, all the animals have woken up and are all in various states of distress. If you paid attention to one voice you could make out what's been said but you let the wave of voices wash over you as you get to work. Tina hands you a book on various animal drugs, which she says is for her work. You flip through various formulas to get a basis of the amount needed in spite of the fact that you have no idea what Miss Norris gave you. “If a equals b then what the fuck is c?” you whisper under your breath but you hear Tina snickers but quickly covers it up with a cough. You wonder if Ash originally had included instructions on the bottle or if they thought a logical step would be ingesting to kill. Can these animals die? Aren't they dead? Tina walks over to you and takes the bottle out of your hands to use her teeth to unscrew the small cap. She sniffs it and makes a face. “Ok someone should be in charge of drug duties and the other on torture sewing“ she says it with no more gravity as if she were ordering a pizza. <hr>\ * [[“I'll play doctor sleep.”->Page 180BBB]] * [[“Just give me the needle.”]] </h3>

<h3>You go over to the first animal you had contact with in the store. The raccoon. It's still opening and closing its mouth, just at a slower pace. You drag a seat over from another desk and plop yourself down on it. You cross your legs and clasp your hands firmly on your lap. At least you look the part. You clear your throat and say, “is there anything you want?” You hear Tina scoff somewhere behind you. You ignore her and wait for an answer. The raccoon just keeps pressing its teeth together and then moving them apart. You roll your lips together and stare into its glassy eyes. “Didn't you say these things talked?” <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You hear some footsteps and Tina's voice sounds closer to you, “I did $name. But they aren't yappers... I don't have full-on convos with them and sometimes these fuckers like to be stubborn.” You close your eyes and curse in your mind. Now you do feel some form of sympathy for your old therapists. Many times you would waste the whole hour not speaking a word while they furiously and aggressively wrote things down. “Maybe they don't understand questions? Or maybe their vocabulary isn't that complex to vocalize what they want,“ you muse, you lean forward and peer at the dead thing. “Oh great, now we have to start looking at linguistics. Just so you know I flunked out of college.” You shake your head, “not that extreme. We just need a simple way to communicate with them like how people talk with babies or people who speak a different language.” You get up and walk over to a cluttered table set against the wall. It's overflowing with books, pens and most importantly paper. You grab one and a pencil and sit down in front of the raccoon again. <<if $hobby is 'draw'>> Thank god you spent all that time in the hospital honing your artistic skills. It's the first time your talent will be used for a practical purpose.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>This isn't your forte. You spend your days shadowboxing and running in place. Hopefully stick figures will work.<<elseif $hobby is 'flowers'>>This isn't your forte. You use your fingers to create delicate and near perfect replicas of flowers. Hopefully stick figures will work.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>This isn't your forte. The most you do with your hands is use them to flip through pages of a book. Hopefully stick figures will work.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>This isn't your forte. You do use your hands to create a form of art but letters aren't sketches. Hopefully stick figures will work.<</if>> Tina stands over you as you draw. Thankfully making no comment. [[NEXT->Page 181BB]] </h3>

<h3>Tina goes over to the first animal you had contact with in the store. The raccoon. It's still opening and closing its mouth, just at a slower pace. She drags a seat over from another desk and plops herself down on it. She crosses her legs and her arms over her chest. Rather a hostile look for who's supposed to be a calming presence. She inhales a few seconds and asks, “so what do'ya want?” You roll your eyes. Not the best start. The raccoon just keeps pressing its teeth together and then moving them apart. You roll your lips together and stare at the exchange. Or rather, the one-way street of conversation. “Didn't you say these things talked?” <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Tina's shoulders slump and she takes a glance at you, “I did $name. But they aren't yappers... I don't have full-on convos with them and sometimes these fuckers like to be stubborn.” You close your eyes and curse in your mind. Now you do feel some form of sympathy for your old therapists. Many times you would waste the whole hour not speaking a word while they furiously and aggressively wrote things down. “Maybe they don't understand questions? Or maybe their vocabulary isn't that complex to vocalize what they want,“ you muse, and begin pacing. “Oh great, now we have to start looking at linguistics. Just so you know I flunked out of college.” You shake your head, “not that extreme. We just need a simple way to communicate with them like how people talk with babies or people who speak a different language.” You stop your musings and walk over to a cluttered table set against the wall. It's overflowing with books, pens and most importantly paper. You grab one and a pencil and hand them to Tina. <<if $hobby is 'draw'>> Hopefully she's as good a drawer as you. Maybe you should've taken her place instead.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>Thank god you didn't volunteer for this role. You can't draw for shit.<<elseif $hobby is 'flowers'>>Thank god you didn't volunteer for this role. You can't draw for shit.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>Thank god you didn't volunteer for this role. You can't draw for shit.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>Thank god you didn't volunteer for this role. You can't draw for shit.<</if>> Tina stands over you as you draw. Thankfully making no comment. [[NEXT->Page 181BB*]] </h3>

<h3> You have Tina bring out some plastic cups from the mountains of crap she has pushed to the random parts of the store, all while maintaining the areas of her work completely clean. You slowly go down the row and slowly add a stream of that mysterious sweet substance into each of the cups. You end up filling about ten, which is enough for the taxidermy currently in the store. You carefully place them on a wooden cutting board, looking like a true nurse instead of a doctor, you hold the tray and go to your first victim. That damn raccoon. You wait until it opens its mouth wide to quickly dump the contents of the sleep potion into its mouth. You and Tina both wait for a reaction. Its mouth merely goes down again to press its teeth together. It does this same motion for a few more minutes and you don't move a single muscle. Those same muscles are taught, ready for an explosion of movement and self-defence. Slowly, the raccoon's opening and closing mouth stops. Its mouth is not wide open but not closed entirely. Tina lets out a sigh of relief and your shoulders instantly drop, cool waves spread around your body. Tina snaps her fingers in front of the raccoon's face and it doesn't move, it doesn't even make a noise. She nods at you and you go around the room snapping to wake the other animals and dosing them too. You check the clock on the wall “I don't know how long they'll be asleep for so you should get to work.” Tina walks over to a cupboard and brings out a small sharp needle and a red thread. She quickly gets the thread through the needle and moves within kissing distance of the raccoon. She lifts up the needle and almost touches it to the lips of her creation. But she doesn't move. You move aside a few papers and sit up on one of the desks. You could say something but it's best for her to motivate herself. You can't see her face from this position but you hear a slight sigh escape her lips. [[NEXT->Page 181BBB]] </h3>

<h3> Tina has you bring out some plastic cups from the mountains of crap she has pushed to the random parts of the store, all while maintaining the areas of her work completely clean. She slowly goes down the row and slowly add a stream of that mysterious sweet substance into each of the cups. She ends up filling about ten, which is enough for the taxidermy currently in the store. She brazenly places them on a wooden cutting board and looking like a true nurse instead of a doctor, she holds the tray and goes to your first victim. That special raccoon. She waits until it opens its mouth wide to quickly dump the contents of the sleep potion into its mouth. You and Tina both wait for a reaction. Its mouth merely goes down again to press its teeth together. It does this same motion for a few more minutes and you don't move a single muscle. Those same muscles are taught, ready for an explosion of movement and self-defence. Slowly, the raccoon's opening and closing mouth stops. Its mouth is not wide open but not closed entirely. You let out a constrained breath and your shoulders instantly drop, cool waves spread around your body. Tina chuckles. Tina snaps her fingers in front of the raccoon's face and it doesn't move, it doesn't even make a noise. She nods at you and then goes around the room snapping to wake the other animals and dosing them too. Tina checks the clock on the wall “ok enough bullshit, hurry it up because they can wake at any moment.” Tina walks over to a cupboard and brings out a small sharp needle and a red thread. She quickly gets the thread through the needle and hands it to you. You move within kissing distance of the raccoon. You lift up the needle and almost touch it to the lips of Tina's creation. But you find that you momentarily pause. You hear shuffling behind you and wait for a few words that don't come. Neither reprimand or comfort. You're glad she can't see your face. You don't know what expression you would have. There's a chance you could look either excited or repulsed. [[NEXT->Page 181BBB*]] </h3>

<h3> You finish up your sketches and hold it up to the raccoon. It doesn't change what it's doing and you point at the house she drew, a generic thing but unmistakably a home. The raccoon doesn't react. You point to food, which you drew as a plate with some fries on it. The raccoon makes a thrumming noise from its throat. You almost smile as you lean back. “Do you know what raccoons eat?” Tina shrugs, “I don't keep live animals you know.” She goes over to the piles of her many books and thumbs through a tome of a book with sawdust coating its pages. She makes a humming noise. “These things eat whatever. Maybe that's why they're always in garbage cans“ she says and she closes the book. “Maybe“ you say. Tina stands there with her arms at her sides and you raise an eyebrow. She huffs and walks over to the front door. “Mind the store. If shit gets stolen you'll pay for it“ she says as she walks out. You lean back into the chair and watch the raccoon for a time. This place is rather peaceful without Tina her being an asshole. Also the moving dead taxidermy. In no time she comes back with some dried fruits and nuts. She throws you the items and you cautiously bring a small peanut to the raccoon's moving mouth. You decide to throw it in instead of risking your fingers. The peanut flies over the front teeth and into the pink abyss beyond. The raccoon moves its mouth. But this time it isn't to close and open its mouth without reason. It seems to be chewing. If you call the sea-sawing of its teeth chewing. It swallows and opens its mouth again. You throw in a dried raisin and you see it do the same odd chewing motion and shallow. You alternate between the nuts and the fruits until you've almost reached the bottom of the packages. You pick up another peanut to throw in when the raccoon stops moving completely. Its mouth goes slack and somehow it seems as if it's deflated. Any bits of life has gone out of it. “One down, about ten more to go“ you say and move over to the next animal. Holding up the drawings once more. Over the next few hours you have Tina go for more food, go and see if she can find the records for whoever had these animals as pets in life to bring them to the shop later and some of them just use this time to vent, albeit with limited vocabulary. Eventually you watch the mouth of a rabbit go slack as it finishes up its rambling on why big carrots are actually gross and they hated being given them in life. You get up and look around the room, most of the animals are lifeless now. <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> Tina finishes sketching and brings it near the raccoon. It doesn't change what it's doing and she points at the house she drew, an awful imitation of a house but it looks close enough. The raccoon doesn't react. She points to food, which she drew as a plate with a slice of cake on it. The raccoon makes a thrumming noise from its throat. You almost smile as you look over towards the series of books on the table. “Do you know what raccoons eat?” Tina shrugs, “I don't keep live animals you know.” You go over to the piles of her many books and thumb through a tome of a book with sawdust coating its pages. You make an affirmative noise. “From what it says here, raccoons can pretty much eat anything. That's probably why they rummage through thrown away food.” “Fine“ she says. You close the book and walk over to the front door. Feeling in your pockets for spare change. “By the way, I want to be reimbursed for this“ you say as you walk out. You hurry down the street towards the dollar store. Content with the way your body reacts to the sense of urgency. In no time you come back with some dried fruits and nuts. You hand her the items and you observe as she cautiously brings a small peanut to the raccoon's moving mouth. She just throws it presumably to not risk her fingers. The peanut flies over the front teeth and into the pink abyss beyond. The raccoon moves its mouth. But this time it isn't to close and open its mouth without reason. It seems to be chewing. If you call the sea-sawing of its teeth chewing. It swallows and opens its mouth again. She throws in a dried raisin and you see it do the same odd chewing motion and shallow. Tina alternates between the nuts and the fruits until she's almost reached the bottom of the packages. She picks up another peanut to throw in when the raccoon stops moving completely. Its mouth goes slack and somehow it seems as if it's deflated. Any bits of life has gone out of it. “God I'm never getting pets“ Tin says and moves over to the next animal. Holding up the drawings once more. Over the next few hours you go in and out for more food, go to see if you can find the records for whoever had these animals as pets in life to bring them to the shop later and some of them just use this time to vent, albeit with limited vocabulary. Eventually you watch the mouth of a rabbit go slack as it finishes up its rambling on why big carrots are actually gross and they hated being given them in life. You look around the room, most of the animals are lifeless now. <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> Swiftly she brings the needle right through the raccoon's mouth. She lets out a breath and moves it up and through its upper lip. She pulls the thread taut and then sighs “oh god.” You see her move the needle again to the animal's mouth and a part of you wants to look away. You don't know how much this counts for animal cruelty. Do dead animals have rights if they aren't supposed to be speaking? But there's the other part of you. The one that slides a chair closer to the sewing, leaning your elbows on your thighs and cupping your chin. That other part watches as Tina almost mechanically moves the needle through the raccoon's lips, moves it back down and pulls the thread to close up one part of the lips. This other part has endured tragedy, it doesn't pull away. Due to how slow Tina goes about it seems like it takes more than thirty minutes for her to finally reach the other end of the raccoon's mouth and tie the thread together. She pushes her hair away from her face and moves onto the next one. You go over to the raccoon and lean down to peer at its stitching. It's unorganized and wobbly but it's definitely sewed shut. You think for a moment of touching it. You peek at Tina who is fiercely concentrated on sewing the mouth of a red fox shut. You move your finger along the raccoon's closed mouth. Marveling at how life-like it feels, how deep and mutilated its stitches are. You follow the path of the red thread along the entirety of its mouth and when you reach the end you feel a pair of eyes on you. You don't look her way. Instead going back and sitting on the chair, eyes wandering around the walls of the room. Tina resumes her sewing. After her initial hesitation she does the rest of the animals fairly quickly. She pushes her chair back and throws the needle with the red thread onto a nearby table. She stands next to you and you wait. You don't know how long the effects of the sleep potion will last and so a long time passes in silence. Tina plays cards with herself and you flip along the pages of a book you aren't even reading. After a certain period of time Tina snaps her fingers and you watch as the animals eyes move around frantically. As their necks strain the erratic movement of their heads. But they can't move the rest of their bodies. They can't open their mouths. They don't even know how to make a noise without opening it. What you've made is a show of perpetual imprisonment. But you did what you promised, you got them to shut up. <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> Without thinking twice you bring the needle right through the raccoon's mouth. You breathe out through your nose and run it right through its upper lip. You pull the thread taut and then mutter “not too bad.” You move the needle again to the animal's mouth and a part of you wants to look away. You don't know how much this counts for animal cruelty. Do dead animals have rights if they aren't supposed to be speaking? But a meticulous job requires a good eye. Although there's the other part of you. The one that slides the chair you're sitting on closer and cups your cheek. That other part kind of watches as you almost mechanically move the needle through the raccoon's lips, move it back down and pull the thread to close up one part of the lips. This other part has endured tragedy, it doesn't pull away. You don't go slow on purpose, it's just lack of experience that makes it seem like it takes more than thirty minutes for you to finally reach the other end of the raccoon's mouth and tie the thread together. You run a hand along your forehead but pause before you move onto the next animal. You look at the raccoon and move closer to peer at its stitching. It's unorganized and wobbly but it's definitely sewed shut. You think for a moment of touching it. You peek at Tina who has taken out her cheap romance book and is silently moving her mouth. You move your finger along the raccoon's closed mouth. Marveling at how life-like it feels, how deep and mutilated its stitches are. You follow the path of the red thread along the entirety of its mouth and when you reach the end you feel a pair of eyes on you. You don't look her way. Instead you move your chair over to the next animal, a fox and begin the process again. A page flips. After your initial inexperience you do the rest of the animals fairly quickly. You push your chair back and throw the needle with the red thread onto a nearby table. Tina stands next to you and you wait. You don't know how long the effects of the sleep potion will last and so a long time passes in silence. Tina plays cards with herself and you flip along the pages of a book you aren't even reading. After a certain period of time Tina snaps her fingers and you watch as the animals eyes move around frantically. As their necks strain the erratic movement of their heads. But they can't move the rest of their bodies. They can't open their mouths. They don't even know how to make a noise without opening it. What you've made is a show of perpetual imprisonment. But you did what you promised, you got them to shut up. <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> Tina clears her throat and begins her recitation. //“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”// Her voice fills the room with its cadence. Not such a fumbling mess as with the holy water. //“Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus: et fugiant-“// the murmurings of the animals begin to raise in sound and Tina's looks to you. You shake your head and mouth 'read.' //“...qui oderunt eum a facie ejus.”// The wolf you kicked earlier starts howling like a wounded animal. No, not wounded, angry. //“Sicut deficit fumus...”// the dim lights overhead begin to flicker and the shadows in the room begin to bleed into each other. You see Tina bring the book closer to her face. In the approaching darkness you see a mass run towards you and without thinking you swing at it hard. It goes hurtling to the wall and slides down with a thump. //“...d-deficiant. Sic-sic-sicut fluit cera a facid...”// Tina squints her eyes “no... not facid.. //facie?//“ something growls near your foot and you step back. Everything disappears as the room falls into complete darkness. “Tina?!“ you yell as you hear a multitude of tiny steps scurrying in front of you. Something climbs onto your foot and you yelp. You kick it away. You hear a crash somewhere in the darkness in front of you. The window is in front of you right? You haven't moved, have you? Another thing latches onto your foot and another onto your other one. You try to shake them off but they dig their nails into your legs as they begin crawling up your body. You can't swing the bat at your legs. You bite back a scream as you feel tiny paws rip into your shirt and cling onto your stomach. You let go of the bat and grab the hairy monstrosities by their fur, yanking them away from you and throwing them somewhere in the room. A light shines in your face. “$name hit them!“ Tina's voice forces you to open your eyes. She stands in front of you, holding a flashlight. She stomps on a stuffed animal trying to climb onto her shoe. She grabs the water bottle and begins throwing it onto the roaming taxidermy. As they're coated with the water they begin to screech horrifically. You ignore their screams and reach down for the fallen bat. You start making your way through them. Swingin left and right. Animals go flying to the walls, collide against figurines, books and tools. Tina yells, //“-ignis, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei!“// <hr>\ * [[You collapse.]] * [[You sit down.]] * [[You start throwing things.]] </h3>

<h3> You bend down and hand them the things that are further from their reach. You pick up brightly coloured tackle, delicate pretty things you examine for a second before giving them to Asia. “I make them myself“ they say. “Thank you, not many people like to touch my things.” Their warm and easy smile threatens to affect you. You wiggle your nose as a heavy scent of fish floats into your vicinity “why?” They shrug and throw a small pebble into the lake “they say it's gross, that it smells and they don't want to go home with that on their fingers and seeping into their skin.” Asia puts in the last of their things and closes the lid, setting the locks into place. “Today was a slow day“ they muse, too low to be talking to you. “I thought I'd see more people out here“ you comment “I mean fishers. It's the weekend after all, people are off work and all that.” Asia nods and moves their box aside, they sit down and cross their legs, their arms folding atop their knees. “It's getting colder, the days are getting shorter and the things that live in the waters get more testy this time of year. You don't want to lose an eyeball just for a trout, do you?” they ask rhetorically. You nod and look out with them to the lake. It's looks like still water, almost peaceful. The lake doesn't really move that much. However, it hasn't stagnated, the water doesn't taste old. It's actually quite delicious, few plastic bottles are sold in stores since everyone likes the tap so much. You two watch a bird sweep down into the water and pluck out a fish. It flies away before either of you can react. Asia closes their eyes and sighs, a relaxed mood to their shoulders. You're always so surprised by people like Asia. Not only are they very nice, especially to you but they're also different. Gender-wise. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> You don't know much about that. It's not taught in schools and from what you know you haven't met many people like them. In a town where anything is possible they fit right in.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> You don't know much about that. It's not taught in schools and from what you know you haven't met many people like them. In a town where anything is possible they fit right in.<</if>> Asia opens their eyes and says “by mere luck I got them to come and see us today. We'll have to go out into the lake though. They say they won't even listen to what we have to say if it isn't on their turf.” You hum. You've never been on a boat before and much less this lake which isn't kind to strangers. The only safety net you have is that one of the lake people is in love with Asia, and maybe not even that. [[NEXT->Page 173C]] </h3>

<h3> Your hands stay clasped in front of you as you watch them pack up. You notice a series of brightly coloured tackle, delicate pretty things you examine for a second before Asia shoves them into the box. “I make them myself“ they say. “I get why you wouldn't want to touch them or anything else of mine.” Their warm and easy smile threatens to affect you. You wiggle your nose as a heavy scent of fish floats into your vicinity “what do you mean by that?” They shrug and throw a small pebble into the lake “they say it's gross, that it smells and they don't want to go home with that on their fingers and seeping into their skin.” Asia puts in the last of their things and closes the lid, setting the locks into place. “Today was a slow day“ they muse, too low to be talking to you. “I thought I'd see more people out here“ you comment “I mean fishers. It's the weekend after all, people are off work and all that.” Asia nods and moves their box aside, they sit down and cross their legs, their arms folding atop their knees. “It's getting colder, the days are getting shorter and the things that live in the waters get more testy this time of year. You don't want to lose an eyeball just for a trout, do you?” they ask rhetorically. You nod and look out with them to the lake. It looks like still water, almost peaceful. The lake doesn't really move that much. However, it hasn't stagnated, the water doesn't taste old. It's actually quite delicious, few plastic bottles are sold in stores since everyone likes the tap so much. You two watch a bird sweep down into the water and pluck out a fish. It flies away before either of you can react. Asia closes their eyes and sighs, a relaxed mood to their shoulders. You're always so surprised by people like Asia. Not only are they very nice, especially to you but they're also different. Gender-wise. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> You don't know much about that. It's not taught in schools and from what you know you haven't met many people like them. In a town where anything is possible they fit right in.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> You don't know much about that. It's not taught in schools and from what you know you haven't met many people like them. In a town where anything is possible they fit right in.<</if>> Asia opens their eyes and says “by mere luck I got them to come and see us today. We'll have to go out into the lake though. They say they won't even listen to what we have to say if it isn't on their turf.” You hum. You've never been on a boat before and much less this lake which isn't kind to strangers. The only safety net you have is that one of the lake people is in love with Asia, and maybe not even that. [[NEXT->Page 173C]] </h3>

<h3> You follow Asia as they walk along the edge of the town. Not far away from where you were you see their boat. Its resting on a patch of dirt, the footsteps around it and the lack of grass suggests that this is the place people usually leave their boats. Asia carefully places their things into it. “Come help me with this please?” they ask. You go to stand next to them and crouch down, pressing your hands against the boat. “One... two... three,” at the same time you both push against the wooden boat and slide it down the dirt and into the water. Asia holds it in place with one hand and motions for you to jump on. Although not as cautiously as you'd like you step into the boat, use your hands to steady yourself and hop the other leg in. You land on your ass with a thud and Asia, much more agile and graceful, practically prances into the boat and gets to turning on the motor. You move to the other side of the boat and stretch out your arms to hold onto either side. The movement of the boat curls the contents of your stomach. You hear a loud noise, like if someone was blowing a raspberry quickly and mechanically. The motor almost vibrates and you tense up as the boat begins truly moving. Asia grabs onto a lever and uses it to guide the boat. They look at your expression and give you a sympathetic smile “I'm sorry, I didn't think to ask if you were new at this. Do you know how to swim?” “Yeah...” you manage to say. They assent and look over your shoulder to steer the boat to whichever part of the lake you're going to. For some reason you hadn't thought of how a boat works exactly. Maybe you thought you would be rowing. Your body stays tense and your knuckles grow white from gripping the sides of the boat as you both go along the lake. [[NEXT->Page 174C]] </h3>

<h3> The boat nearly goes to the other side of town, you see houses, shops, people going about their day, occasionally the sound of the motor making them look your way. You stop on the side of town where the smoke trees are. So called because sometimes during spring they exude clouds of smoke from no discernible place. Asia stops the boat in the middle of the lake. They sit down across from you. Their hands dangling in between their legs. From the few times you've crossed words with Asia they have never seemed much of a talker. Waiting for their partner is going to be a quiet affair. You slowly let go of the boat and lay your hands in your lap. “Have you ever been in love?” they ask abruptly. You don't answer and they look around the water, the trees, the sky. Begging for nature to tell them something. “Before Anemone I never was. I was fine not being. I felt like some people needed it, and some didn't and I was the latter,“ they whisper, as gentle as the breeze. <hr>\ * [[“How did you two meet?”->Page 175C]] * [[“What creature are they exactly?”]] * [[“How have you been talking?”]] * [[“Do I need to do a thing?”]] </h3>

<h3> “I'm guessing it wasn't bumping into each other in town or going to school together“ you say with a light tone. Asia smiles at your attempt at friendly banter. They reach down into the water and make little circles. They seem to have a habit of playing with it. “My father used to bring me out here a lot when I was a kid. He was a fisher too. I first saw them when I was five... maybe?” they draw a '5' in the water “they seemed to be my age. We would just watch each other all the time.” You loosen your tense fingers, already getting used to being in the boat. “Usually the people in the lake and the townies don't mingle“ you state. “They're different from the creatures who walk on land.” They nod “yes. Anemone didn't talk to me for years, they didn't even try to get close to me. But their eyes never left me. About four years ago I was fishing in a terrible thunderstorm, so bad that I capsized. When I awoke I was on the shore, and they were in the water next to me. They saved me.” <hr>\ * [[“What creature are they exactly?”]] * [[“How have you been talking?”]] * [[“Do I need to do a thing?”]] </h3>

<h3> “If they're a mermaid they'd be easier to deal with although I've never actually spoken to one“ you say. They shake their head “no, not a mermaid. Their physical and emotional distance didn't tip you off?” They take their finger out of the water. “Actually I'm sorry for not warning you earlier but they're a siren“ they give you a sad smile with a similar look in their eye. You let out an exhausted sigh and for a second think of laying down but the idea of moving the boat in any way stops you. You opt for rubbing your forehead. “Ok now a few things make sense. If they open their mouth they'll sing and you'll drown“ you state. Although historically sirens drown men, they don't really specify the nuances of gender. And you thought the most difficult thing would be fixing a relationship. <hr>\ * [[“How did you two meet?”->Page 175C]] * [[“How have you been talking?”]] * [[“Do I need to do a thing?”]] </h3>

<h3> “Ok since they're a creature of the deep, I'm guessing human language isn't their forte unless you've been doing some English classes“ you say. Asia shakes their head once “I've tried. They just don't retain it. Maybe it's a weird biology thing that doesn't allow them to.” Asia brings the finger that was circling the water and lightly rubs their bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. A gesture anyone else wouldn't notice but since you know about their love, this scene is very intimate. You feel like you're invading. “Have you tried learning their language? Would it be fish or something?” you say sarcastically. They smile at you “yeah we did do that for a while. Given that they're a siren they can't really talk without disaster so we tried fish language which is a series of gestures, sounds and movements but Anemone's an awful teacher and it's such a rich and complex language that I couldn't get past my own name.” You hum as if in assent but you don't really know what it's like to learn a new language. You never had enough free time to try. “The only way we talk is through basically charades and some physical contact“ Asia answers. <hr>\ * [[“How did you two meet?”->Page 175C]] * [[“What creature are they exactly?”]] * [[“Do I need to do a thing?”]] </h3>

<h3> “The lake people are kind of famous for being easily offended assholes,“ you say and quickly add, “no offence to your partner.” Asia scrunches their face, “a //thing//?” “Yeah, like an introduction. Something to say 'I come in peace.'“ You hold up the peace sign. “Your partner might like you but I don't think they'll be too happy to see me even if they did agree to the meeting.” Asia looks to nowhere, contemplating. They open their mouth, let out a breath of air and close it again. “I'm trying to remember if I ever did anything when we first made contact... but no. They saved me so that was the introduction. I guess just the universal sign for basic decency and acknowledgement count?” they wave at you to show you what they mean. You nod in response and decide to stretch out your legs, their tensed position making them ache. It's not like you're scared, you've never felt that feeling, it's just that your body solidifies when you're in unknown circumstances as a third option to fight or flight. “I think they either forgot or expected us to call them. Do you want to do it or should I?” Asia asks. <hr>\ * [[You'll do it.->Page 176C]] * [[You let Asia do it.]] </h3>

<h3>“It's better if I make the effort, no? To show interest and whatnot,“ you say and scoot over to the side of the boat, the slight rocking making your thighs flex. “Ok, what now?” Asia leans down and grabs a few small pebbles at the bottom of the boat. From their palm they throw one pebble into the water. There's no flourish to it. No secret twist of their wrist to make the pebble land in the lake in any special way. “I throw them in gently, ten to be precise“ they say and make to hand the small pile over to you. You let them drop the pebbles into your palms. “Does it need to be at regular timed intervals or...?” you ask. “Well I never really counted. Just wing it. Think of it as if you were at the front door of someone's house, you knock semi-regularly,“ they explain, lifting up their hand to do a knocking gesture. Asia should've been a teacher with the way they act like they're teaching a first grade class. “A knock, ok,“ you mutter. You throw a pebble in as gently as you can. You don't want it to seem as if you're pounding on the door. You wait a few seconds and throw in another one. When nothing horrible happens you relax and continue throwing the pebbles in until you've reached ten. As you two wait for Anemone to show up you start thinking about the next phase of your work. You pat your hands and look at Asia who is staring longingly at the lake. You don't understand love, clearly. “So can you explain to me why you two broke up?” you ask. You reach out into the lake to grab a leaf floating on the surface, slowly ripping at it for something to do with your hands. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Asia watches your fingers, “a few things really, stuff that's been bugging us for a while.” They sigh and look towards the gray sky, almost wistfully. “One is the issue that they live in the water and I live on land, then there's marriage“ you raise an eyebrow at that and they clarify, “I want to but Anemone doesn't and they haven't said why.” //It's not like they can say why//, you think. “Ok then we have to figure out how the hell we're going to talk to Anemone then although talking might not mean I can get you back together,“ you reply. Asia frowns, “I know that $name, but we can try.“ Now the question is... how will you try? <hr>\ * [[You'll do charades.->Page 177C]] * [[You need to learn fish.]] * [[A grande gesture can fix this.]] </h3>

<h3> “You two might be fighting at the moment but they like you far more than me“ you say and gesture to the water as a way of saying 'it's all yours.' The slight rocking makes your thighs flex. Asia leans down and grabs a few small pebbles at the bottom of the boat. From their palm they throw one pebble into the water. There's no flourish to it. No secret twist of their wrist to make the pebble land in the lake in any special way. “I throw them in gently, ten to be precise,” they say. You nod as you watch the second pebble go in. “Does it need to be at regular timed intervals or...?” you ask. “Well I never really counted. Just wing it. Think of it as if I were at the front door of someone's house, ideally I'd knock semi-regularly,” they explain, lifting up their hand to do a knocking gesture. Asia should've been a teacher with the way they act like they're teaching a first grade class. “Fish people, they're just like us,” you snark. They throw one pebble in as gently as they can. It sounds as if they were not knocking but coaxing Anemone to come out. They wait a few seconds and throw in another one. When nothing horrible happens you relax and watch as Asia continues throwing the pebbles in until you've counted ten. As you two wait for Anemone to show up you start thinking about the next phase of your work. You pat your hands and look at Asia who is staring longingly at the lake. You don't understand love, clearly. “So can you explain to me why you two broke up?” you ask. You reach out into the lake to grab a leaf floating on the surface, slowly ripping at it for something to do with your hands. Asia watches your fingers, “a few things really, stuff that's been bugging us for a while.” They sigh and look towards the gray sky, almost wistfully. “One is the issue that they live in the water and I live on land, then there's marriage,” you raise an eyebrow at that and they clarify, “I want to but Anemone doesn't and they haven't said why.” //It's not like they can say why//, you think. “Ok then we have to figure out how the hell we're going to talk to Anemone then although talking might not mean I can get you back together,” you reply. Asia frowns, “I know that $name, but we can try. “Now the question is... how will you try? <hr>\ * [[You'll do charades.->Page 177C]] * [[You need to learn fish.]] * [[A grande gesture can fix this.]] </h3>

<h3> Asia perks up when they hear your suggestion. They slightly perk down when you inform them that you've never played charades before. Your family was never big on familial games and Nia finds mimes and mime-adjacent things endlessly frustrating. That's why she doesn't own anything stripped. “Ok,“ Asia says slowly. They get up swiftly and place their hands on their hips. A big smile breaks onto their face. “Well then let me show you the basics on charade-ology before Anemone gets, they like being fashionably anyway.” They gesture for you to stand up. You look down at the boat, at your feet firmly planted on shaky foundations. It'd be an inconvenience if you fell, walking home in wet clothes sounds unappealing. Squishy socks with squishy shoes. Again, you grab onto the sides of the boat and start pulling yourself up. A bit hard to do when you're digging your nails into the wood, something you notice when you're a few inches from where you were seated in an awkward half-standing, half-crouched position. You let out a grunt and let go of the boat, not thinking about the potential of falling as you stand erect with your hands balled into fists by your side. The muscles of your tibias hardening inside your legs. Asia nods pleasantly at your achievement and waves at you. “This is the most simple, easy and universal sign there is but it never hurts to do it,“ they say. You lift up one of your balled fists, unclench it and give them a half-hearted wave. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, Asia's demeanor doesn't change, they light up a thumb. They point to themselves. “The next part would be a name. My name is the name of the continent, the problem there was that I didn't know if Anemone knew what a continent even was, much less what they were called,“ they explain, then they point to their eyes. “If I wasn't Asian myself this would be kind of racist,“ you notice they're actually pointing at the ends of their eyes. Then they stretch out their arms to signify something big. Then they point back to the corners of their eyes. You nod and try to think of a way to gesture, sign or act out your name. After a few minutes you get it and try it for Asia. A troubled look passes through their eyes but they just give you a strained smile. “Ok... next we'll practice asking for Anemone's name, 'how are you?' and 'I mean no harm,'“ they say. That's what both of you do for the next thirty minutes. [[NEXT->Page 178C]] </h3>

<h3> Asia's cheery mood quickly fades when you say that. They somehow manage to look even more crestfallen when you say that you'll need to go back to land to get a language book. Of course the bigger issue isn't learning fish language, it's actually getting your hands on a book like that in a town where these things are regulated rather strictly. 'Croun is simultaneously the most progressive and contradicting place we'll ever know,' Nia would say. “Alright“ Asia says resigned. They twist their body and pull on the lever over and over again to get the motor running. It hums to life and they efficiently turn the boat around and back on the same path you took to get here. The journey back to land seems quicker than the one you took to the lake as before you register it you're ripped out from your idle thoughts as the boat hits the shore. Asia hops over the edge of the boat and grabs a rope from the bottom of the boat, near where their feet were. They begin tying the end of the boat around a tree trunk and you use that time to get out of the boat yourself. You wait until Asia finishes the knot around the tree and when they walk up to you, you say “I'm pretty sure the library either doesn't have books about communicating with the lake people or if they do you need like special permission so I don't-“ Asia lifts up their hand to silence you. “Don't worry about that. I can get you your book.” They slowly begin walking in between the spaces of the trees that lead to the main road that eventually leads to Main Street. You quickly catch up to them. As you and Asia walk side-by-side you venture to ask “why did you look so sad when I said we needed to learn fish?” Asia moves their foot to step on a fallen leaf, the crunch that produces is barely audible. They let out a sigh. “It's just annoying to learn. Maybe I just suck at learning.” The conversation halts and you follow them to a small little house just before Main Street proper. “Wait here“ they say and sprint up the steps to the front door. The front door closes for a period of thirty seconds before Asia walks out with a small book tucked in the front pocket of their overalls. They meet you at the sidewalk and hand you the book. You look at its cover, cursive gold lettering that writes //A COMPREHENSIVE TUTORIAL ON THE BASICS OF MERPEOPLE LANGUAGES, IDIOMS AND COLLOQUIALISMS BY VICENTE DURAN.// You've never heard of Vicente but by his last name you wager who was. You nod once at Asia and you go back to the lake. [[NEXT->Page 178CC]] </h3>

<h3> Asia gives you a perplexed look when you say that. As is their custom though, that look comes with a friendly smile. The town doesn't have the best reception, your mother forbid any televisions to be installed in the house and you and Nia didn't often go to the movies but you do know about romance movies. When things are shit, something like a parade makes it all work. “$name I don't have that much money to hire everyone in town to dance to a choreographed musical number. I also don't think the mayor would be too keen on knowing a townie is having a romance with a non-townie entity,“ Asia says gently. You shake your head at that, “it doesn't have to be crazy, it doesn't even need people. We just need some material from the craft store, artistic flair, determination and hearts.” You must sound confident because Asia thinks for a moment and then grins. They twist their body and pull on the lever over and over again to get the motor running. It hums to life and they efficiently turn the boat around and back on the same path you took to get here. The journey back to land seems quicker than the one you took to the lake as before you register it you're ripped out from your idle thoughts as the boat hits the shore. Asia hops over the edge of the boat and grabs a rope from the bottom of the boat, near where their feet were. They begin tying the end of the boat around a tree trunk and you use that time to get out of the boat yourself. You wait until Asia finishes the knot around the tree and when they walk up to you, you say, “I'm thinking a pink heart, glitter, roses, letters, chocolates and maybe a firework or two.” Asia laughs in response, “that'll be the crafts store, the dollar store and probably the hardware store.” They slowly begin walking in between the spaces of the trees that lead to the main road that eventually leads to Main Street. You quickly catch up to them. Neither of you talk much when you reach Main Street proper, the murmurings and judgemental looks of the townsfolk kill any kind of motivation for conversation. Getting the items poses no problems, Asia is efficient and quick, you spend most of the town going in and out stores trying to catch up with their fast pace. Finally after an hour you two walk out from the hardware store, Asia hands you half the items in a plastic bag while they carry another identical bag. “Good?” they ask. You nod and they nod in turn. You two walk at a more leisurely pace out of town. [[NEXT->Page 178CCC]] </h3>

<h3> In the midst of Asia trying to teach you a rather elaborate albeit amusing way to say 'you would like to try to learn how to dance salsa?' the boat lurches to the side violently. It settles back into place and you grip the side away from where the boat was hit with both hands. The boat sways gently in the water as you wait for the next attack. Asia lets out a frustrated sigh and hits the side of the boat “hey! That isn't nice. Would you please stop playing and get up here right now?” they say in a stern voice. You look around you, the water too murky to see any movement beneath its surface even in the early afternoon. Without ceremony a figure comes out of the water, next to Asia. They drape their arms over the edge of the boat and fold them. Their eyes looking up at Asia from underneath their long eyelashes. They have the audacity to look demure. Asia looks down at them as if they were a disappointed parent. So this must be Anemone. “You,“ Asia points to the creature, “said,“ they point to their mouth “you are going to be serious about this“ Asia points to the serious look on their own face and then gestures to the two of them. Anemone blows out their mouth and slides their arms off the boat to their sides. They lower their upper body into a gesture you recognize as a bow. They straighten up and cross their arms. A singular raised eyebrow. Asia smiles and then motions to you, “$name,“ they do the mime motions you had done earlier to try and translate your name into charades. Anemone's expression doesn't change. Asia looks from you to Anemone and back. “So... what now?” they ask. Your fingers ache from how hard you're gripping the boat, a contrast to the slow movement of your heart. A contrast that is rather annoying at this moment because you don't know what to listen to. Anemone looks up at the sky, something that they make look as if they're rolling their eyes and maybe that's what was intended. Asia looks lost, a weak smile plastered on their face. What do you do? <hr>\ * [[Continue on.->Page 179C]] * [[Go home.->Page 179C*]] </h3>

<h3> You've only spent about ten minutes flipping through the small blue book, squinting at the series of complex pronunciations with accents that you have never seen when the boat lurches to the side violently. The book falls from your hands onto your feet as the boat settles back into place and you grip the side away from where the boat was hit with both hands. The boat sways gently in the water as you wait for the next attack. Asia lets out a frustrated sigh and hits the side of the boat “hey! That isn't nice. Would you please stop playing and get up here right now?” they say in a stern voice. You look around you, the water too murky to see any movement beneath its surface even in the early afternoon. Without ceremony a figure comes out of the water, next to Asia. They drape their arms over the edge of the boat and fold them. Their eyes looking up at Asia from underneath their long eyelashes. They have the audacity to look demure. Asia looks down at them as if they were a disappointed parent. So this must be Anemone. “You“ Asia points to the creature “said“ they point to their mouth “you are going to be serious about this“ Asia points to the serious look on their own face and then gestures to the two of them. Anemone blows out their mouth and slides their arms off the boat to their sides. They lower their upper body into a gesture you recognize as a bow. They straighten up and cross their arms. A singular raised eyebrow. Asia smiles and then motions to you “$name“ they do the mime motions you raise your eyebrows at because you don't know how anyone could get your name from that gesture. Anemone's expression doesn't change. Asia looks from you to Anemone and back. “So... what now?” they ask. Your fingers ache from how hard you're gripping the boat, a contrast to the slow movement of your heart. A contrast that is rather annoying at this moment because you don't know what to listen to. Anemone looks up at the sky, something that they make look as if they're rolling their eyes and maybe that's what was intended. Asia looks lost, a weak smile plastered on their face. What do you do? <hr>\ * [[Continue on.->Page 179CC]] * [[Go home.->Page 179C*]] </h3>

<h3> You haven't gotten much done except tearing off the packaging of things just as the boat lurches to the side violently. The glitter you were about to open falls somewhere at the bottom of the boat which settles back into place and you grip the side away from where the boat was hit with both hands. The boat sways gently in the water as you wait for the next attack. Asia lets out a frustrated sigh and hits the side of the boat, “hey! That isn't nice. Would you please stop playing and get up here right now?” they say in a stern voice. You look around you, the water too murky to see any movement beneath its surface even in the early afternoon. Without ceremony a figure comes out of the water, next to Asia. They drape their arms over the edge of the boat and fold them. Their eyes looking up at Asia from underneath their long eyelashes. They have the audacity to look demure. Asia looks down at them as if they were a disappointed parent. So this must be Anemone. “You,“ Asia points to the creature, “said,“ they point to their mouth “you are going to be serious about this“ Asia points to the serious look on their own face and then gestures to the two of them. Anemone blows out their mouth and slides their arms off the boat to their sides. They lower their upper body into a gesture you recognize as a bow. They straighten up and cross their arms. A singular raised eyebrow. Asia smiles and then motions to you “$name“ they do the mime motions. Somehow Asia actually manages to convey as accurately as she can your name. Anemone's expression doesn't change. Asia looks from you to Anemone and back. “So... what now?” they ask. Your fingers ache from how hard you're gripping the boat, a contrast to the slow movement of your heart. A contrast that is rather annoying at this moment because you don't know what to listen to. Anemone looks up at the sky, something that they make look as if they're rolling their eyes and maybe that's what was intended. Asia looks lost, a weak smile plastered on their face. What do you do? <hr>\ * [[Continue on.->Page 179CCC]] * [[Go home.->Page 179C*]] </h3>

<h3> You're already here, aren't you? What's the point in stopping just a few paces from the finish line? You move the bones in your arms to get the curled bones of your fingers to slide off the edge of the boat. Still curled you flatten them out against your thighs and roll your lips as you access the two figures glancing from each other to you. You finally get a good look at Anemone. The grey sky dulls their indigo skin, the pearls attached to their arms, chest and face strain to glimmer brightly without proper lighting. Green hair the texture of moss trails down their back in soggy rivulets. Water pools in the crevices of their cheekbones. If they didn't look at you as if you were the mud clumped on their head, they'd look beautiful. Their pupiless eyes follow your miniscule movements as you edge over to their side of the boat. You wave at them with as much energy as a simple wave can have. Your hand drops and theirs doesn't raise. Their black eyes merely train on your face, devoid of expression. “Ani,“ Asia whispers disapprovingly under their breath. Anemone's eyes quickly flicker to Asia's and back to yours. Asia looks towards the sky irritated. They lower their eyes to you and say, “if you want I can talk to them and you intervene whenever things get rough. Or you can still try, they like effort.” Anemone makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a scoff. <hr>\ * [[“You can try.”->Page 180C]] * [[“I haven't given up yet.”]] </h3>

<h3> You just shake your head a few moments and mumble about needing to get home for curfew. A flimsy lie as sunset is hours away. Even so, Asia gives you a small smile and shrugs, their way of saying that 'it's ok.' They make a sign to Anemone who lets out a sound that's a cross between a sigh and a raspberry before diving back into the water. “We'll find a way. We always do“ they say, a weak edge to their voice. You push away the thoughts threatening to make you say to Asia that you change your mind. You don't owe them anything, you're a kid who has far too many emotional things going to be able to manage someone else's. Your confidence in your choice doesn't prevent an awkward air of silence to permeate the atmosphere around you both. An uncomfortable feeling that makes the way back to shore longer than it is. The second the beat touches the earth you spring up from your seat and jump to the hard ground, an athletic motion that surprises you. You turn to Asia and try to contort your face into sympathy. “I wish I could've done more...” your words trail off as any good conclusion to your conveyance of guilt doesn't come. Asia gives you an understanding look “it's really ok $name. At least you came and tried for a bit, that really means a lot to me.” You back away from them and the boat, managing to keep that same look on your face before turning around and dropping it. “Take care!“ Asia yells. You lift up a thumb in accordance. In a languid swagger you walk along the lake until you get home as you did when you first saw Asia a few days ago. Exhausted, you trudge up the steps in front of your house, up the staircase in the foyer and into your room to land unceremoniously on your bed. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> You're already here, aren't you? What's the point in stopping just a few paces from the finish line? You move the bones in your arms to get the curled bones of your fingers to slide off the edge of the boat. Still curled you flatten them out against your thighs and roll your lips as you access the two figures glancing from each other to you. You finally get a good look at Anemone. The grey sky dulls their indigo skin, the pearls attached to their arms, chest and face strain to glimmer brightly without proper lighting. Green hair the texture of moss trails down their back in soggy rivulets. Water pools in the crevices of their cheekbones. If they didn't look at you as if you were the mud clumped on their head, they'd look beautiful. Their pupiless eyes follow your miniscule movements to grab the book from your lap . You flip open to the section of introductions and try your best when saying “//yettkk//.” It sounds like gibberish coming from your tongue. Their black eyes merely train on your face, devoid of expression. “Ani“ Asia whispers disapprovingly under their breath. Anemone's eyes quickly flicker to Asia's and back to yours. Asia looks towards the sky irritated. They lower their eyes to you and say “if you want I can try to speak this to them and you intervene whenever things get rough. Or you can still try, they like effort.” Anemone makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a scoff. <hr>\ * [[“Take the wheel.”->Page 180CC]] * [[“Nah I can do this.”]] </h3>

<h3> You're already here, aren't you? What's the point in stopping just a few paces from the finish line? You move the bones in your arms to get the curled bones of your fingers to slide off the edge of the boat. Still curled you flatten them out against your thighs and roll your lips as you access the two figures glancing from each other to you. You finally get a good look at Anemone. The grey sky dulls their indigo skin, the pearls attached to their arms, chest and face strain to glimmer brightly without proper lighting. Green hair the texture of moss trails down their back in soggy rivulets. Water pools in the crevices of their cheekbones. If they didn't look at you as if you were the mud clumped on their head, they'd look beautiful. Their pupiless eyes follow your miniscule movements as you bend down to pick up the plastic bag of glitter. You grip the two sides to break it open. Their black eyes merely train on your face, devoid of expression. “Ani,“ Asia whispers disapprovingly under their breath. Anemone's eyes quickly flicker to Asia's and back to yours. Asia looks towards the sky irritated. They lower their eyes to you and say, “we can divide up tasks, one of us does the crafts and the other directs. Or you can still try, they like effort.” Anemone makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a scoff. <hr>\ * [[“I'll be today's Michangelo.”->Page 180CCC]] * [[“I'm better as supervisor anyway.”]] </h3>

<h3> Asia scoots over to their partner-not-partner and points to their mouth, makes a 'NO' sign and then points back to Anemone. Anemone gives them a confused look and points at themself, as if asking 'you mean me?' Asia nods at this. Anemone makes a sour face and slaps the water, fortunately away from the boat. Asia lifts their finger and wags it, once again reminding you of a teacher. Asia points to themself, curls their fingers into a heart and points to Anemone. Then Asia does the inverse and lifts up their hands, asking Anemone if they feel the same. Anemone makes a frustrated noise in their throat and creates an 'X' sign with their fingers. They mimic Asia's heart and create another 'X' sign. They proceed to shake their head and do a gesture you only guess as them pushing this topic away. It's rather a bit confusing. The pleasant attitude Asia had had to this point dissipates and they cover their face with their hands. You don't see their shoulders shake but that doesn't mean they aren't crying. You had hoped that by letting Asia take care of this they could manage to fix these things between them without you having to step in. A lover's quarrel is a dramatic and poisonous thing. You brace yourself for a second before moving closer to Anemone, who's dark eyes are glued to Asia's slumped form. You try to say something but remember that you can't use words here. You try to gesture their attention. It doesn't work. Their eyes don't blink, don't move, don't even take notice of your existence. You clench your teeth and snap your fingers. Anemone's eyes quickly flick to you and they narrow. They make an odd sign with their fingers, something that looks like a jumping figure. Your eyebrows knit together and you point to Asia. You press your palms together against your chest. Anemone's eyes widen as they stare at your hands and fins ― ones you hadn't noticed ― on the top of their shoulders begin to shake, move on their own accord while the rest of their body is still. They lift up a finger and you can't make out what that means but by the look in the black mass that is their eyes you can tell they're getting angry about something. You lift up your hands in confusion. You look at Asia who is still sobbing, their forehead pressed against their thighs. “Jesus fuc-“ you make the peace sign and point back and forth between you and Anemone. Anemone hisses, their mouth opening to reveal sharp teeth, stained with black. The fins on their shoulders are now shaking violently. Before you can think of doing anything else of the things Asia taught you, Anemone dives under, their tail slapping the water with such a force that the boat tips to the side and any reaction you have is swallowed by the deep water of the lake. [[NEXT->Page 181C]] </h3>

<h3> You scoot over to Asia's on-and-off love affair and point to Asia's mouth, make a 'NO' sign and then point back to Anemone. Anemone gives you a confused look and points at themself, as if asking 'you mean me?' You nod at this. Anemone makes a sour face and slaps the water, a few droplets spraying on you. Asia lifts their finger and wags it, once again reminding you of a teacher. Once again you point to Asia, curl your fingers into a heart and point to Anemone. Then you do the inverse and figure to lift up your hands, asking Anemone if they feel the same. At least you hope that's what they interpret. Anemone makes a frustrated noise in their throat and creates an 'X' sign with their fingers. They mimic your heart and create another 'X' sign. They proceed to shake their head and do a gesture you only guess as them pushing this topic away. It's rather a bit confusing. The pleasant attitude Asia had had to this point dissipates and they frown, a look entirely foreign to their face. A look that makes you wary of things to come, it's much more daunting when the quiet ones get angry. You thought that you could do this but you're an intruder into a romance that's been degrading for some time now. You couldn't have magically bandaid this. A lover's quarrel is a dramatic and poisonous thing. You brace yourself for a second as you watch Asia press themself against the side of the boat, their black eyes looking to Anemone's soulless ones. You move to do something but Asia, without even looking in your direction lifts up a finger. It seems you won't be able to intervene, act as mediator, be a peaceful and calm conselor that mends a relationship. You resign yourself to your fate and look away from the lovers, face and body turned away to the trees. As your eyes scan the still leaves you hear little noises, not sounding like Asia so mostly Anemone, and the ruffle of clothes, a frequent thing and that happens in quick jerky sounds. Asia must be getting more heated. Someone slaps the water, the spray hitting your back and you're almost tempted to turn around but that might make things worse. You had thought of the fact that Anemone might not like you, that you wouldn't be able to get through to her but it's quite ironic that it's Asia that's agitating the situation. For once you aren't the problem. But that's poor consultation as you utterly failed at helping Asia and you're entirely out of your element, being partial witness to a fight that your inadequate charade skills helped precipitate. Once again you get sprayed with water. And before you even know what's going on you hear a woosh sound, something so violent that the boat tips to the side and you don't even have time for a reaction before you're swallowed into the lake. [[NEXT->Page 181C]] </h3>

<h3> You hand Asia the book and they move their finger along the page, reading quickly in their mind. They lift up a finger and say “//nexp raqm rasm.”// You don't know what they said is even accurate and as they spoke, Anemone's eyes widen slightly. Asia looks unsure and repeats the words under their a few times, testing out the unfamiliar sounds in their mouth. Anemone responds in rapid fire fishtongue, her innate ability making the words undistinguishable. Asia raises a hand and points to their ear. Anemone huffs and speaks slowly, the words still not making any sense to you but Asia catches on as they flip to the back of the book and look for the fish to English translations. Asia bends down and rummages through a backpack under their seat. They take out a pencil on a blank page in the book and write down what Anemone said. Once they lift the pencil from the page they sigh, a sad sigh. “What is it?” you ask and lean over to get a better look. //I don't think we can make this better.// Asia merely closes the book and puts their head in their heads. You look to Anemone who looks away from Asia and down to the water. It seems like now is your cue. “Love isn't easy“ you blurt you. Asia looks up and gives you a surprised look, Anemone looks at you with a neutral expression. “It wouldn't be worth it if it was simple“ you continue, words coming from somewhere in the back of your mind. You're pretty sure you heard this in a movie once. Maybe some John Hughes crap. Asia's expression morphs into a glint of hope and so you keep talking “tell them that... being so in love and having some many wonderful years together should be fought for. That it's worth doing everything to make it work.” Asia begins looking for the words and then writing them down. “And that love like this doesn't come by everyday. There's no time for fear, doubt and defeat“ you finish off a series of words you don't know the meaning of but by Asia's quick writing it seems like they do. Asia finishes off writing what you said and turns to Anemone. They repeat your words, at least you hope they do. It sounds broken, hardly confident and messy but Asia pushes through and reaches out a hand immediately after they stop talking. [[NEXT->Page 181CC]] </h3>

<h3> You flip the section of common sayings, it'll be cleaner and grammatically correct instead of trying to tie all the words together yourself. Due to common sayings generally being trite what you find at your disposal is many lines that are found in whatever rom-com on TV. //“Tewq ulli datyy vepe bxk laef mewf“// you say, the words unwelcome on your tongue. Anemone's expression of neutrality doesn't change. “What did you say?” Asia asks. “I told them something like... you can't give up so easily and love can conquer all“ you answer “at least I think I did.” You gesture to Anemone, allowing them the space to answer. Asia raises a hand and points to their ear. Anemone responds in rapid fire fishtongue, her innate ability making the words undistinguishable. You shrug your shoulders. Anemone huffs and speaks slowly, the words still not making any sense to you but you still flip to the back of the book to the fish and English translations. “Do you have a pen or pencil?” you ask Asia. Asia bends down and rummages through a backpack under their seat. They hand you a pen and you quickly do the task of listening, writing and searching all at once. You read the completed sentence and roll your eyes. “What did they say?” Asia asks and leans over to get a better look. //It's none of your business.// Asia merely closes the book and puts their head in their heads. You look to Anemone who looks away from Asia and down to the water. It seems like you have no other choice but to keep going. You decide to screw the common sayings and move back and forth throughout the book to compose your own sentence. You quickly scribble down the unknown words and with a flourish you let the pen fall by your feet. You clear your throat and say the fish equivalent to “I'm trying to help you but you know what? You don't deserve it and you don't deserve Asia.” The complete opposite of what you came to do. Anemone's eyes lower into slits and they answer back as quickly as they did before and even though you didn't catch what they said it must have been something along the lines of calling you an asshole as evidenced by the haughtiness of their stance. Not one to be left behind in verbal sparring from all the years of fighting with Lorcan you quickly flip jot down an addition to your previous statement. You don't wait to say it, something that goes “Asia can and will do much better than you.” Anemone lets out a shrill cry, a sound that resembles a banshee and makes your ears vibrate painfully. They quickly dive down into the water. You close the book, placing it next to you and look over to Asia. Their shoulders are shaking. You open your mouth to say something consoling when from the corner of your eye you see Anemone coming out from under the water. Before you can fully turn and register what you're seeing they hurl something towards your face that ricochets painfully off your forehead before sliding back under the sable water of the lake. [[NEXT->Page 181CC*]] </h3>

<h3> Asia tells Anemone to wait. Or rather shows Anemone they need to wait. You feel pairs of eyes on your hands as you begin quickly tearing open the materials, now you finally understand what people mean when they say it feels awkward when they're cooking and someone is in the kitchen with them. The glue top comes off with a pop and you press the sticky cloudy tip down on the pink cardboard paper you picked out at the crafts store. You've done arts and crafts like this before in school, you've even done arts and crafts for romantic occasions as every Valentine's Day for years your teachers would have you make something for someone. It always went to Nia. You stick on a plastic heart with painted big eyes and smile, you lift up the cardboard paper and watch as the heart begins slipping down. “Shit“ you mutter and move up one of the sides to add more glue underneath. Without care or thought you glide the glue stick along the top of the pink paper, take the glitter and just throw it on top. You shake off all the bits that didn't stick and decide it looks good enough. You take off the cap of the black smelly jumbo sharpie and scribble to the best of your cursive ability. You wince when you realize that it probably won't look straight because you aren't doing it on a desk but this is the best you've got. You stick on more hearts of all different colours, shapes and textures. You throw on more glitter. You even make some bubble lettering at a certain point without even thinking much of it, all in the pursuit of making this pop. After fifteen minutes of torturous silence you finally feel like you're done and lift up your masterpiece. Making sure to let Asia and Anemone take a good look at the complete mastery of art that you've done. You watch as their faces both express completely opposing feelings. One looks unimpressed and the other looks curious. Oddly enough it's Anemone who seems intrigued and Asia who seems to look like they're staring at a piece of shit they just stepped in. You look at your creation all together and realize that maybe Asia is right. Frankly, it looks like something created by a blind kindergartener. And that's you being nice to yourself. The letters are all shaky, the glitter has no rhyme nor reason, the hearts are either slipping down the paper or outright dangling. Worst of all though is what you wrote. “It's supposed to say 'WILL YOU MARRY ME, ANEMONE?'“ you mutter. There's even a small illustration to convey what you mean if Anemone didn't understand what Asia wanted to ask. But because of your hurrying it reads 'VILE YOU CARRY MEATANEMONE?' Where did that T come from? [[NEXT->Page 181CCC]]] </h3>

<h3> Asia tells Anemone to wait. Or rather shows Anemone they need to wait. They begin almost frantically ripping into the materials with such a force that something falls all over the bottom of the boat and you help Asia collect them. Asia doesn't even spare you a glance as they start their artistic endeavor. They use their teeth to get the glue top to come off with a pop and press the sticky cloudy tip down on the pink cardboard paper you picked out at the crafts store. From the little that you can see Asia's artistic ability isn't as expert as their fishing. But it's the thought that counts right? You remember doing these big cardboard crafts for Valentine's Day. It always went to Nia. They stick on a plastic heart with painted big eyes and smile, lift up the cardboard paper and their smile turns into a frown. “God no“ Asia sighs and lays the paper down grabbing the glue and moving it back and forth as aggressively as they can. Without much preparation they glide the glue stick along the top of the pink paper, take the glitter and just throw it on top. They shake off all the bits that didn't stick and decide it looks good enough. Asia takes off the cap of the black smelly jumbo sharpie and scribbles to the best of their cursive ability. You watch their eyes widen in alarm at what they see which is covered by their arm. They stick on more hearts of all different colours, shapes and textures. They throw on more glitter. You even see a hint of Asia making some comic lettering at a certain point without even thinking much of it, a random collaboration of things that you aren't too sure will work. After fifteen minutes of torturous silence where you have avoided eye contact with Anemone, Asia claps their hands and lifts up their masterpiece. Making sure to let you and Anemone take a good look at the complete mastery of art that they've done. Your expectant smile slowly falls down your face and you look at Anemone to see an awed albeit curious expression of their face. Asia looks from you to Anemone with an embarrassed grin. You look at their creation all together instead of individual parts and realize that you're right in thinking it's awful. Frankly, it looks like something created by someone who has no hands, no eyes and no human feeling. And that's you being nice to Asia. The letters are all shaky, the glitter has no rhyme nor reason, the hearts are either slipping down the paper or outright dangling. Worst of all though is what they wrote. “It's supposed to say 'WILL YOU MARRY ME, ANEMONE?'“ you think. There's even a small illustration to convey what Asia means if Anemone didn't understand what they wanted to ask. But because of the lack of careful planning from Asia it reads 'KILL YOU FAIRY MINOTAUR?' Where did those letters come from? [[NEXT->Page 181CCC*]] </h3>

<h3> You've been in this lake before. You know how to swim. You've been pushed in by your siblings. You've swallowed mouthfuls of bacteria infested waters, coming up to their surface, coughing up violently the salty water stuck in your throat. What always gets you is the cold though. It's a surprising cold. A cold more situated to the Atlantic ocean that curls around the countries that are in the midst of winter. A cold that has the initial effect of paralyzing your body. You don't want to move for fear of feeling those spikes of cold pain penetrating your skin anew. You look up through the dense leaves of the bottom of the lake, the darkness from this angle almost as dark as from above. Almost. Like a skylight in a room you see a ring of hazy brightness directly upon. Something that shouldn't happen as you aren't in a hole. No point in questioning the dimensions and reality of the lake. You just have to get the fuck out of here so you can strangle Anemone. Your arms feel like they've been infused with lead and your legs feel as if they're being weighed down by concrete slabs. You feel the thick vines touch your legs, vines that have twisted around the ankles of many swimmers and tried to keep them down in the darkness. <<set $lakefall to true>> Bubbles of air sputter from your gaping mouth. Your stomach contracts as the cold brushes its unwanted fingers up your sensitive flesh. You move your arms above you and push your feet off the ground. Swimming up in a lake that isn't your friend isn't an easy task. The water feels heavy on you. The vines tickle, as if teasing you that they could grab you at any moment. You move your legs aggressively and splay out your arms, moving them up and down like those kids in snow do when they want to make angels. You watch the hazy ring of light above you but it looks no closer than it did when you were at the floor. You push your body harder, using your corrupted muscles from years of lockup to even try to touch the surface. You reach out an arm, stretching your fingers to come through the water and into air. But you just touch more water. More bubbles come bursting out of your mouth and nose, you feel a need to scream forming in your chest. God, you could drown here. Drown here before you even had a chance to do all you wanted to do. All your fighting, all your struggle, all these years could just end now. All because you were doing something for someone else. If that isn't the universe laughing at you, you don't know what it is. Fucking charades. You stop struggling against the water, your body slowly floating down and you look around you, nothing... nothing all around you. What do you do? Do you continue going up? Maybe you'll reach the light. Do you change course? Go right instead? Or turn around completely on your head and go down, maybe you'll find something that can help you? <hr>\ * [[Go up.]] * [[Go right.]] * [[Go down.]] </h3>

<h3> Anemone looks from their lover's outstretched hand, to their lover's eyes. It's incredible how much can be told from someone's eyes. They are the window aren't they? Which is why Anemone's eyes give nothing away. Their pupiless mass of darkness encased in a round prison made from something that resembles flesh but if you touched them you know it wouldn't feel like your skin. It would feel as strange as their eyes look. A heartbeat passes. A second one. You count ten of your heartbeats before Anemone moves. They lift up their hand from beneath the water, droplets sliding down their fingers to create little drops that fall into the lake and create circular ripples. Their hand glides effortlessly into Asia's. Asia makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a sob and laugh, maybe it's both. They move their other hand to cover their intertwined ones and Anemone copies them, their indigo wet hand caressing Asia's skin as if it were precious. Is this what love looks like? You've never seen your father and mother do this. The only time they touched each other was during their parties, him offering his arm and she placing her hand on his sleeve. She did like it like nothing for her. It wasn't this. This intimacy. If either of them had turned to look at you in that moment they would see the slender widening of your eyes, the curling of your hands and the tightening of your jaw. If you noticed you were reacting like this maybe you would've wondered why. Or maybe you would've known. Asia leans down and you choose that moment to look away. You keep your face turned towards nowhere and count your heartbeats again, hoping that you don't have to wait long. You feel itchy. “$name?” Asia's voice speaks softly. You wait a few seconds before turning back, not wanting it to seem that you feel put out because of their displays of affection. You twist your head to see Asia with their hands on their thighs, a smile plastered on their face and Anemone with their hand curled around Asia's bicep, a nearly identical smile on their face. “So... I'm guessing there's cause to celebrate?” you say and quickly add “for you two I mean.” “Alone“ you emphasise. You clamp your mouth shut before you keep saying stupid crap. Asia grins and kisses Anemone's cheek. “Of course. Shall I take you back to land?” [[NEXT->Page 182CC]] </h3>

<h3> You've been in this lake before. You know how to swim. You've been pushed in by your siblings. You've swallowed mouthfuls of bacteria infested waters, coming up to their surface, coughing up violently the salty water stuck in your throat. What always gets you is the cold though. It's a surprising cold. A cold more situated to the Atlantic ocean that curls around the countries that are in the midst of winter. A cold that has the initial effect of paralyzing your body. You don't want to move for fear of feeling those spikes of cold pain penetrating your skin anew. You look up through the dense leaves of the bottom of the lake, the darkness from this angle almost as dark as from above. Almost. Like a skylight in a room you see a ring of hazy brightness directly upon. Something that shouldn't happen as you aren't in a hole. No point in questioning the dimensions and reality of the lake. You just have to get the fuck out of here so you can gut that fish bitch. This is what you get for trying to fucking learn languages. Your arms feel like they've been infused with lead and your legs feel as if they're being weighed down by concrete slabs. You feel the thick vines touch your legs, vines that have twisted around the ankles of many swimmers and tried to keep them down in the darkness. <<set $lakefall to true>> Bubbles of air sputter from your gaping mouth. Your stomach contracts as the cold brushes its unwanted fingers up your sensitive flesh. You move your arms above you and push your feet off the ground. Swimming up in a lake that isn't your friend isn't an easy task. The water feels heavy on you. The vines tickle, as if teasing you that they could grab you at any moment. You move your legs aggressively and splay out your arms, moving them up and down like those kids in snow do when they want to make angels. You watch the hazy ring of light above you but it looks no closer than it did when you were at the floor. You push your body harder, using your corrupted muscles from years of lockup to even try to touch the surface. You reach out an arm, stretching your fingers to come through the water and into air. But you just touch more water. More bubbles come bursting out of your mouth and nose, you feel a need to scream forming in your chest. God, you could drown here. Drown here before you even had a chance to do all you wanted to do. All your fighting, all your struggle, all these years could just end now. All because you were doing something for someone else. If that isn't the universe laughing at you, you don't know what it is. Fucking charades. You stop struggling against the water, your body slowly floating down and you look around you, nothing... nothing all around you. What do you do? Do you continue going up? Maybe you'll reach the light. Do you change course? Go right instead? Or turn around completely on your head and go down, maybe you'll find something that can help you? <hr>\ * [[Go up.]] * [[Go right.]] * [[Go down.]] </h3>

<h3>Anemone reaches out their hands and you hand them the sad, ugly physical manifestation of what is supposed to be Asia's feelings for Anemone. They bring your art up to their face, then they lift it up above their head and sort of... squint. They lower it and submerge it in the water before either Asia or you can tell them not to. They lift it up again, a now sopping mess where the glitter is falling off en masse and many of the plastic hearts are now folding on the water. The black big letters declaring Asia's intentions for holy matrimony are bleeding. “Jesus,“ you mumble and Asia shoots you a kind glance. They shrug, which is probably their way of telling you it's ok. They're far too forgiving. Anemone holds out to you the disintegrating paper and you realize they mean to hand it back. Not really thinking much about it you reach forward and take it from their hands, your clothes quickly getting wet from the lake water. Anemone makes a circle with the fingers of their right hand and encircles them around their ring finger on their left hand, the folds above their eyes moving up. Asia nods energetically and points to their ring finger. They both stare at each other, their eyes not blinking and not moving away from each other, they don't want to miss a moment. Is this what love looks like? You've never seen your father and mother do this. The only time they touched each other was during their parties, him offering his arm and she placing her hand on his sleeve. She did like it like nothing for her. It wasn't this. This intimacy. If either of them had turned to look at you in that moment they would see the slender widening of your eyes, the curling of your hands and the tightening of your jaw. If you noticed you were reacting like this maybe you would've wondered why. Or maybe you would've known. Asia leans down and you choose that moment to look away. You keep your face turned towards nowhere and count your heartbeats again, hoping that you don't have to wait long. You feel itchy. “$name?” Asia's voice speaks softly. You wait a few seconds before turning back, not wanting it to seem that you feel put out because of their displays of affection. You twist your head to see Asia with their hands on their thighs, a smile plastered on their face and Anemone with their hand curled around Asia's bicep, a nearly identical smile on their face. “My artistic skills paid off then didn't they?” you say and quickly add “I can't do professional work though so no weddings.” <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “I could... but I can't...” you trail off not knowing where you were going with that. You clamp your mouth shut before you keep saying stupid crap. Asia grins and kisses Anemone's cheek. “Alright. Shall I take you back to land?” [[NEXT->Page 182CC]] </h3>

<h3> Anemone lays out their hands palm up and Asia hands them the sad, ugly physical manifestation of what is supposed to be Asia's feelings for Anemone. A big loss for Asia. They bring that thing up to their face, then they lift it up above their head and sort of... squint. They lower it and submerge it in the water before either Asia or you can tell them not to. They lift it up again, a now sopping mess where the glitter is falling off en masse and many of the plastic hearts are now folding on the water. The black big letters declaring Asia's intentions for holy matrimony are bleeding. “Oh no,” Asia laments and they give you a sad pout. You shrug in an 'I don't why' way and Asia groans as they turn back to their lover. Anemone holds out to you the disintegrating paper and you realize they mean to hand it back. You bite your tongue from telling them to give to Asia since it was their fuck up. You reach forward and take it from their hands, your clothes quickly getting wet from the lake water. You curse. Anemone makes a circle with the fingers of their right hand and encircles them around their ring finger on their left hand, the folds above their eyes moving up. Asia nods energetically and points to their ring finger. They both stare at each other, their eyes not blinking and not moving away from each other, they don't want to miss a moment. Is this what love looks like? You've never seen your father and mother do this. The only time they touched each other was during their parties, him offering his arm and she placing her hand on his sleeve. She did like it like nothing for her. It wasn't this. This intimacy. If either of them had turned to look at you in that moment they would see the slender widening of your eyes, the curling of your hands and the tightening of your jaw. If you noticed you were reacting like this maybe you would've wondered why. Or maybe you would've known. Asia leans down and you choose that moment to look away. You keep your face turned towards nowhere and count your heartbeats again, hoping that you don't have to wait long. You feel itchy. You make a face at Asia's attempt at art and throw it on the floor of the boat. “$name?” Asia's voice speaks softly. You wait a few seconds before turning back, not wanting it to seem that you feel put out because of their displays of affection. You twist your head to see Asia with their hands on their thighs, a smile plastered on their face and Anemone with their hand curled around Asia's bicep, a nearly identical smile on their face. “Did your amazing Louvre inspired art piece do the trick?” you say and quickly add “I should hope so, because we'll have to make another if not.” “Haha love is so weird,” you peter off not knowing where you were going with that. You clamp your mouth shut before you keep saying stupid crap. Asia grins and kisses Anemone's cheek. “Alright. Shall I take you back to land?” [[NEXT->Page 182CC]] </h3>

<h3> It's right there isn't it? It's so close, it hasn't moved and you have just maybe not quick enough, right? You pull your legs up to your stomach and forcefully pull down, hoping it will propel you forward like a jet. Your arms mimic the motion. You feel the water rush along your body. You moved. You know you did. But the ring of light looks as far away as it did while you were floating down. You pull your legs and arms up, doing the same move again and you move just the same but the light doesn't grow bigger, it doesn't grow brighter. “Fuck!“ you yell or at least try to before a rush of water runs down your throat and you begin coughing, your chest muscles trying to push the water back up which just makes you suck in more water. You splay your hands against your chest, digging your fingernails, hoping, hoping, hoping... for what? Hoping for what? Your legs flail uselessly under you. You're not moving forward, you're not falling down. You're floating, choking on water. You have the wild urge to stick your fingers in your mouth to grip the water a stupid idea because it's fucking water how could you ever Alice was drowning drowning in the sea when she got to Wonderland she followed the white rabbit a song by that band are they British they're not they might be but they sing all the same about love sadness drugs rock and roll drinking fucked up minds death how many times in your life have you thought you were going to die five times ten times how many times have you wanted to die five times ten times how many times have you tried it five times ten times now you didn't it was luck just like //she// wanted she had hoped she wouldn't have to do it right or maybe this is her taking her revenge your enemy the count of monte cristo there she is she's swimming towards in the dark where she lives to take you down with her forever in her cold embrace ''__//...//__'' ''__//...//__'' ''__//...//__'' Do you know that some people when drowning can develop hallucinations? Do you know that as you're dying your brain might release memories of happy moments to make sure your final thoughts aren't of terror? Do you know that before your lungs completely fill with water you go unconscious so you aren't even aware of the moment you die? Just like Orla Crown, you, $name Crown will be found in water too. [[NEXT->Page Death Scene 1]] </h3>

<h3> Going up won't work. Maybe you'll see something if you go right. The shore perhaps, or even Asia. They fell in too, right? They're smart, they know these waters. You twist your body, now in the position you were when you were first taught to see on a styrofoam board as a child. You open your legs, you open your arms and pull them straight with force. You feel the water rush along your body. You moved. You know you did. The vines that were initially beneath you are different. You open your legs and arms, doing the same move again and you move just the same and you watch as you fly past more vines. But even though the vines change, there's nothing ahead of you. Nothing to grab onto. Nothing bright. “NO!“ you yell or at least try to before a rush of water runs down your throat and you begin coughing, your chest muscles trying to push the water back up which just makes you suck in more water. You splay your hands against your chest, digging your fingernails, hoping, hoping, hoping... for what? Hoping for what? Your legs flail uselessly under you. Your body twists this way and that as your brain is in a frenzy trying to get you to breathe, to calm down. You didn't notice when you started swimming down, did you? You were too busy choking on water. So that's why you didn't feel the vines wrapping around your legs until your flailing legs could move no more. You look down to see the vines snaking up your body and you slide your hands down to your legs, grasping these things and struggling to take them off of you. But they're so strong and you're so weak. They twirl around your hands and force them to lay across your chest. When they reach your mouth you clamp it shut but they borrow in, pushing past your teeth, touching your tongue and shooting down your throat. You have the wild urge clamp down with your teeth and bite the vines off a stupid idea because it's has no fucking trapped either way how could you ever Alice was drowning drowning in the sea when she got to Wonderland she followed the white rabbit a song by that band are they British they're not they might be but they sing all the same about love sadness drugs rock and roll drinking fucked up minds death how many times in your life have you thought you were going to die five times ten times how many times have you wanted to die five times ten times how many times have you tried it five times ten times now you didn't it was luck just like //she// wanted she had hoped she wouldn't have to do it right or maybe this is her taking her revenge your enemy the count of monte cristo there she is she's swimming towards in the dark where she lives to take you down with her forever in her cold embrace ''__//...//__'' ''__//...//__'' ''__//...//__'' Do you know that some people when drowning can develop hallucinations? Do you know that as you're dying your brain might release memories of happy moments to make sure your final thoughts aren't of terror? Do you know that before your lungs completely fill with water you go unconscious so you aren't even aware of the moment you die? Just like Orla Crown, you, $name Crown will be found in water too. [[NEXT->Page Death Scene 1]] </h3>

<h3> It's a reckless idea. A completely stupid idea. It's away from the light and down towards vines that famously try to drown people. It's one of the craziest things you've ever done and that is saying a lot. You shake your head at yourself, names hurling in your mind about yourself from yourself. You're going to die being an idiot. You bend down and ungracefully pull your legs from up under you and now... well still under you but upside down. You do the same moments as you did before when you were reaching in vain for the circular light. Legs and arms opening and closing. This endeavour gets you to your destination much quicker than the other way, one final swim having your fingertips touch the sandy ground of the lake. You plant your hands firmly down and lay your knees behind them. Like a babe, you crawl down at the bottom of the lake, making sure to move aside from areas of gathered vines that you realize aren't covering all of the floor, they're in little groups, spaced out with clear walkways in between. The edges of your vision begin getting a dark blurry quality to it that at first you thought was the surrounding darkness. The pain in your throat, the pain in your chest burning you with such unrelenting pain as you've only ever received from shock therapy. Your crawling slows as your vision starts closing in darkness in front of you and the pain of water filling your lungs makes it harder and harder to focus on where you're going. If only you got a respite. A moment to clear your head. A lessening of the pain. You painfully reach out somewhere in front of you and instead of the cold hard earth you feel a thick coarse texture. You glide your hand along it, once you feel that it keeps going you move along with it. You don't want to get your hopes up but it could be what you're thinking. In your excitement you can't feel the burning as much and you keep the darkness trying to blind you at bay. Will of the human spirit and all that. You slide your hand and feel the change in direction. This thing you're following has moved up from the floor. You move your hand higher and grip it. You bring up your other hand and move it further up ahead. You pull yourself up, and when you see what you've done you take no time in rejoicing as you move your right hand up in a grip and move your left hand higher than that. You wrap your legs around this and pull again. [[NEXT->Page 182*]] </h3>

<h3> The way back to the shore is far quicker than it was when you went back to town to get supplies. Anemone swims along the boat keeping the same pace with it. The boat nears the shore and Asia cuts the engine. They jump out and you quickly follow. You help them in pulling the boat onto shore and you and Anemone both watch as they tie the boat to the tree. Asia wipes their hands on their overalls and sticks them in their large pockets. You both look at Anemone and they look at you, not smiling but you can tell they seem content. “Thank you for everything $name. I really didn't think it would work out,” Asia confesses. You snort and cross your arms over your chest, “thanks for the vote of confidence.” Asia smiles, “but you came out swinging with those sweet words. They sounded so... familiar but I just can't put my finger on where I've heard them.” They give you a knowing look and you smirk. Asia brings out one of their hands from their pocket and holds up one of their little colorful tackle they had in their fishing container. “I blessed it seven times for luck. You can take it for all your hard work or if you prefer I can give one a fish. One of the big ones,” they say kindly. “I'm sorry I don't have money to give you.” Plastic tackle or a smelly fish? You could have worse options. You could have been offered nothing. <hr>\ * [[“Good luck bait it is.”]] * [[“I do love fried fish.”]] </h3>

<h3> __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“Do not weep for those who have found Death's embrace early, for they weep for us that linger on in this mortal world of pain.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at Episode 3.->Episode 3: You'll See Him in Your Nightmares]] </h3>

<h3> You cough up water into your hands. Your stomach muscles straining painful against the constraints of your body. Your head throbs and you're entirely soaked. You can't even begin to try and imagine calming down Sally if he saw you like this. Somehow in spite of looking like a drowned rat, Asia doesn't shiver, maintaining a stoic determination as they take you back to the town. Because of how miserable you both feel, the way across the lake is long, annoying, boring and cold. You wrap your wet arms around your torso and breathe your hot breath onto your chest. The boat hitting the shore startles you out of your misery and without hesitation Asia jumps out and to tie the boat once again to the trunk. Begrudgingly you move from your spot, your tired legs carrying you over to firm ground. Asia walks over to stand face to face. Before you can think of saying anything they beat you to it. “I'm sorry, I didn't–“ they let out a frustrated sigh and lift their eyes to the clouds “this was a stupid idea and dangerous and I should've never asked you.” What could you possibly say to that? It was dangerous, it was stupid, you almost died. If you hadn't gone down you wouldn't have found the rope. From the corner of your eye you see them wipe at their face, you don't want to embarass them by pointing it out. <hr>\ * [[“It was an adventure.”]] * [[“I wasn't your fault.”]] * [[“Yeah that was fucking dumb.”]] </h3>

<h3> They smile at your choice and drop the small little piece of art into your waiting palm. You feel it with your finger, it stuns for a second how coarse it feels. Of course, it's meant to catch fish, it should be strong. <<set $tackle to true>> You wave a friendly goodbye to the two lovers who barely notice it as they're engrossed with each other. You're glad to leave at that moment. After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at the lake solving Asia's relationship problem. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to the parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a slight little laugh and a word said before a bright voice spoke directly to you, “$name! Hey! I just wanted to say thank you again! Ani and I are doing so good right now.” You listened as they gushed about their future plans and their immediate plans for tonight. They ended the call by adding, “I hope I didn't mess up by telling a few people what you did for me... they did ask if you were good and I said yes and I think that maybe that means you might get a few calls.” Your eyes had widened as you exclaimed, “what do you mean I might be getting some calls? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Oh just a few people in need of aid, it's really not many but I do need to go now Ani is impatient, goodnight and thank you again!“ they replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Asia tucks the tackle back into their pocket and tells you that you can expect a delivery at the manor any day now. <<set $fish to true>> You wave a friendly goodbye to the two lovers who barely notice it as they're engrossed with each other. You're glad to leave at that moment. After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at the lake solving Asia's relationship problem. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a slight little laugh and a word said before a bright voice spoke directly to you “$name! Hey! I just wanted to say thank you again! Ani and I are doing so good right now.” You listened as they gushed about their future plans and their immediate plans for tonight. They ended the call by adding “I hope I didn't mess up by telling a few people what you did for me... they did ask if you were good and I said yes and I think that maybe that means you might get a few calls.” Your eyes had widened as you exclaimed “what do you mean I might be getting some calls? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Oh just a few people in need of aid, it's really not many but I do need to go now Ani is impatient, goodnight and thank you again!“ they replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Asia looks unconvinced at that. “Truly, it's the most interesting day I've had in this town since I've been here.” <<set $Nothing to true>> Asia directs a small smile at your attempt to be kind but you both know this was a failure. Asia holds out their hand, unsure and a bit awkward you take it. It's a quick handshake and without a word Asia turns away from you. Your self-doubt pokes at you, wondering if Asia would've done better without you. You never do anything right. After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at the lake trying to save your own life. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a grunt and a few utterances of annoyance before Asia spoke into the phone “$name, hello. I just wanted to say thank you. I realized I didn't say it when you left.” You wanted to tell them that since you failed they didn't need to but they don't let you get a word in. They ended the call by adding “I hope I didn't mess up by telling a few people what you did for me... they did ask if you were good and I said yes and I think that maybe that means you might get a few calls.” Your eyes had widened as you exclaimed “what do you mean I might be getting some calls? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Oh just a few people in need of aid, it's really not many but I said that you were a great help even if things turned out less than stellar“ they replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Asia shakes their head at your words. “I'm not kidding Asia, you weren't the one who threw me in the water.” <<set $Nothing to true>> Asia directs a small smile at your attempt to be kind but you both know this wouldn't have happened if they never asked for your help. Like always, you fucked things. Asia holds out their hand, unsure and a bit awkward you take it. It's a quick handshake and without a word Asia turns away from you. After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at the lake trying to save your own life. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” There was a grunt and a few utterances of annoyance before Asia spoke into the phone “$name, hello. I just wanted to say thank you. I realized I didn't say it when you left.” You wanted to tell them that since you failed they didn't need to but they don't let you get a word in. They ended the call by adding “I hope I didn't mess up by telling a few people what you did for me... they did ask if you were good and I said yes and I think that maybe that means you might get a few calls.” Your eyes had widened as you exclaimed “what do you mean I might be getting some calls? What exactly did you tell these people?” “Oh just a few people in need of aid, it's really not many but I said that you were a great help even if things turned out less than stellar“ they replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Asia looks shocked at you, they probably didn't expect that you'd agree. “Sorry if I sound like an asshole but you really shouldn't be dating crazy fucking sirens.” Asia closes their mouth, their eyes widen and looking away at nothing. Asia mumbles a quick and awkward goodbye before turning away from you. A little voice asks you if Asia is stupid for dating a siren, then what must you be for accepting when they asked for help and ruining everything? <<set $Nothing to true>> After your job was done you went home, just barely managing to beat out the sunset. The first thing you did was draw a bath. Internally sighing as the hot water seeped into your skin and caressed your bruises and aches. That night at dinner with your brothers you didn't tell them that you spent the day at the lake trying to save your own life. You felt like Sally wouldn't approve. As you were under the covers of your bed you did get a knock on your door. The maid told you a call had come in for you. You walked downstairs to parlour and picked up the handset. You brought it to your ear and said “yes?” A woman was yelling at someone in the background and told them to give fuck themselves before saying “you helped Asia right?” You didn't even know who this was and you had asked. She ignored you and ended the short call by saying “well I don't know if help is the right word but apparently you assisted. They said you worked hard and I need someone like that.” Your eyes had widened as you tried to control your anxious voice “what do you mean I 'need someone like that'? What for?” “Yeah I got this fucking problem“ she yells at someone and you move your ear away from the handset “anyway I might call on you keep me in mind“ she replied and hung up the phone. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> Sally's other thumb joins in the tapping and his eyes glance at the speed limit, you feel the car slowing down. Even in this Sally is unlike Percy. “Can't it be both?” he side-eyes with to avoid taking his attention completely from the road. “Your life changed when you went away, do you really want it to return to what it was before you left?” Went away. As if it were a voluntary action on your part. Sally takes his dirty cloth and wipes away clean the smudges of those around him. You wonder if he wipes his away or if he doesn't have any. You lick your lips, “it's only one year. No point in making friends that I won't see after graduation.” //'Oh yes he comes. When you think you're safe. When you feel as if that heavenly light is looking down upon you. That's his ruse to make you trust him.'// Tap, tap, tap goes the wheel and he takes a second to answer, “are you planning on leaving the town after you've finished school?” Leaving. You feel a weird tug in your chest at that thought. You turn your head to the window, the countless barren fields passing you by. The grass, so yellow and dry you can't imagine anyone ever tried to grow food here. “I don't know. I haven't thought about any of that,” you answer in a low voice. You feel your brother's eyes on you but this time he doesn't keep prying. //'You must not let him in. You must fight his evil influence, even if that means sacrificing your own life as the Lord will gladly welcome you into His embrace.'// [[NEXT->Page 173D]] </h3>

<h3> Sally smiles, a wistful smile that seems reminiscent of what old people do when they have the opportunity to talk about their youth. “Originally I was in going for football but tennis seemed much more interesting. By the time I reached senior year I more focused on social clubs like environmental and politics“ he explains. “Why is that not surprising?” you snark. Sally laughs before saying “I'm a bit predictable aren't I?” you just shake your head good-naturedly. Your conversations with your brother feel lighter when you aren't talking about you. //'Oh yes he comes. When you think you're safe. When you feel as if that heavenly light is looking down upon you. That's his ruse to make you trust him.'// The lonely road with its unremarkable scenery seems to stretch on forever. There's never many cars that pass by here, not from Winchester to another place or from another place to Winchester. “Although my extracurriculars weren't needed, I already had a secure position after school“ he says abruptly. His nose eye twitches and he looks over to you, as if stunned that he said this out loud. “Right“ you just nod. “Right“ he concedes and turns back to the road. //'You must not let him in. You must fight his evil influence, even if that means sacrificing your own life as the Lord will gladly welcome you into His embrace.'// [[NEXT->Page 173D]] </h3>

<h3> Sally sucks in a breath. Your words seem to float up between you in the car. Spiked jagged sounds of your language that probe at the tiny holes in each member of your family. “Why would you say that?” he doesn't sound angry when he asks that. His voice, oddly enough, sounds neutral. You hmm in response. Why did you say that? What is this constant need to bring her up? It never has a good reaction. It must feel like she's always here. Peeking over your shoulder perhaps? Your left shoulder stiffens at that and that side of your face feels tight. “She did all those things. I lost track of how many clubs she was in“ you reply. Sally lets out a long exhale from his nostrils, his face shows no emotion whatsoever. But there's something... strange about the air around him now. The topic of your sister seems to bother him more than you thought. //'Oh yes he comes. When you think you're safe. When you feel as if that heavenly light is looking down upon you. That's his ruse to make you trust him.'// The yellow fields might've been vibrant if the sky wasn't always so grey. It washed everything out, made it dull and boring. Showering everything in a perpetual state of sameness. “You two might be alike, who knows?” he says. You give a look but he's staring straight ahead. “If you were, it might be a hidden blessing.” “Or a curse“ you answer back quickly. Sally just shakes his head at that, you would think he's disappointed that you would ever think negatively about being compared to her. It could be selective amnesia or he truly means it. //'You must not let him in. You must fight his evil influence, even if that means sacrificing your own life as the Lord will gladly welcome you into His embrace.'// [[NEXT->Page 173D]] </h3>

<h3> Winchester arrives with no warning. The dead fields just end and are taken over by small brick buildings with old signs and lawn chairs on the sidewalks that advertise pubs, coffee shops, restaurants. The sidewalks are lined with thin forgettable potted trees with random clusters of leaves that don't cover the majority of the branches. Winchester, the city isn't like the types of cities like Los Angeles, New York, Vancouver. It's almost erroneous to even call it a city. It's more like a really, really big town with its own airport, a mall and a factory. It's rather ugly too. It's only allure being its docks which look out to Seabird sound that eventually connects to the ocean. You recall Percy saying he had always wanted to go on one of the ferries, see the ocean but mother never allowed it, father didn't either saying it was disrespectful to the family, he didn't elaborate. Probably didn't know. A family story lost to time. Everyone from town comes here, not only for entertainment but for things not sold in town. Apparently this place used to have a college where recent graduates from Croun would matriculate but due to low funding it closed down. You eye the people hustling and bustling on the sidewalks, sitting on the chairs across from each other eating whatever overpriced pastries they bought, in stores moving hangers aside and lifting up shirts to their chests. “So we're here for the book right?” your brother asks. You raise an eyebrow “yes? Whatever else for?” Sally rubs his cheek and looks along at the stores the car passes “we could do other things, maybe get a bite to eat or you could buy something?” He wants to make a day of this. “Maybe some clothes?” he suggests. [[NEXT->Page 174D]] </h3>

<h3> “You have free time today,” you say, you meant it as a statement but it came off as a question. Sally glances at you for a second, he slows the car when it reaches a stop sign. “Technically I don't, no. I'm going to be swamped tomorrow and probably the day after that although these days I'm mostly acting as therapist,” he whispers, his voice taking on an absentminded quality. He doesn't move from the stop sign and you twist your head to see if any cars are behind you. You turn back and he still has that same faraway look in his eyes. You two never talk about this work. It's not something you understand and it doesn't seem something he's keen on explaining. “Are you going to move at any time?” you ask right before a car honks behind you. Sally startles as if from a dream and presses down hard on the brakes, the motion slamming you back in the seat. Sally huffs and shakes his head cheerfully, “so, what do you say? Anything you want to do?” the momentary spell leaves his face as if it wasn't there at all. You give it a thought. It might not be bad. Sally is one of the few people you can tolerate being around for more than five minutes. <hr>\ * [[“I want to eat something new.”->Page 175D]] * [[“I want a haircut.”]] * [[“I want a piercing.”]] * [[“I want to go see the docks.”]] </h3>

<h3> Sally smiles at your suggestion. This is probably what he wanted you to pick, something not too insane but also something that could give you a new experience. But first that damn book. You've haven't spent much time in the city so all the turns and lane changes that Sally makes confuses you. You pass similar buildings of brick, then some cement, some boring old townhouses, a few parks, one or two schools and maybe an adult theater that Sally blushes and drives by quickly. You catch people's eyes and even though you know you won't get the stares of distrust and discomfort people at home give you, it still surprises you when their eyes turn away disinterested. You're no one here, you didn't even have to drive far away for that to happen. After about fifteen minutes of driving you see the mall coming up on your right. To call it a mall isn't exactly correct. More accurately, it's a strip mall. A plaza of three rectangular sides, made of stucco with signs atop each store in red and a perfectly prim parking lot controlled by faux grass in square pavers. Your eyes glide past the names of the stories starting with a nail salon, a spa, a healthy foods store, a gym and what you're looking for. Instead of stopping the car in the parking lot Sally swerves to park perpendicular to the curb of the bookstore. He sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fingers through a few bills, mostly twenties and takes two out. As he hands them to you he says “please don't stay in there long, I'm hungry.” You don't respond and step out of the car. The warm air rushes beneath your clothes, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. As pleasant as the weather is, you're unused to the feeling of it and wrap your arms around yourself, the money clenched firmly in your hand. In a few steps you shoulder open the door of the bookstore and enter it's aircooled atmosphere. The bell chimes and the lady at the counter stops her reading to see you walk past her. She doesn't react, her eyes going back to her book. There's a girl standing by the romance section, a pensive look in her eyes as she casually flips through a book. She shuts the book and looks over to the kids section, a non-enthusiastic look in her eyes. Teens, a section of books aimed at them. A boy sits crossed legged on the carpeted floor, happily staring down at a comic in his lap, from your angle it's about that spider hero. That's his name right? Your father has no comic books in the house for you to polish up on your hero knowledge. You see the section marked 'CLASSICS' and head for it, stepping over the legs of the boy who doesn't acknowledge you're there. [[NEXT->Page 176D]] </h3>

<h3> Sally takes a second to react to your suggestion. He gives you a slow and reluctant smile, mouthing 'ok.' He must think you'll want to either dye all your hair or do a weird outrageous cut like one of those goth kids at school. You've haven't spent much time in the city so all the turns and lane changes that Sally makes confuses you. You pass similar buildings of brick, then some cement, some boring old townhouses, a few parks, one or two schools and maybe an adult theater that Sally blushes and drives by quickly. You catch people's eyes and even though you know you won't get the stares of distrust and discomfort people at home give you, it still surprises you when their eyes turn away disinterested. You're no one here, you didn't even have to drive far away for that to happen. After about fifteen minutes of driving you see the mall coming up on your right. To call it a mall isn't exactly correct. More accurately, it's a strip mall. A plaza of three rectangular sides, made of stucco with signs atop each store in red and a perfectly prim parking lot controlled by faux grass in square pavers. Your eyes glide past the names of the stories starting with a nail salon, a spa, a healthy foods store, a gym and what you're looking for. Instead of stopping the car in the parking lot Sally swerves to park perpendicular to the curb of the bookstore. He sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fingers through a few bills, mostly twenties and takes two out. As he hands them to you he says “please don't stay in there long, I don't know when hair salons close.” You don't respond and step out of the car. The warm air rushes beneath your clothes, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. As pleasant as the weather is, you're unused to the feeling of it and wrap your arms around yourself, the money clenched firmly in your hand. In a few steps you shoulder open the door of the bookstore and enter it's aircooled atmosphere. The bell chimes and the lady at the counter stops her reading to see you walk past her. She doesn't react, her eyes going back to her book. There's a girl standing by the romance section, a pensive look in her eyes as she casually flips through a book. She shuts the book and looks over to the kids section, a non-enthusiastic look in her eyes. Teens, a section of books aimed at them. A boy sits crossed legged on the carpeted floor, happily staring down at a comic in his lap, from your angle it's about that spider hero. That's his name right? Your father has no comic books in the house for you to polish up on your hero knowledge. You see the section marked 'CLASSICS' and head for it, stepping over the legs of the boy who doesn't acknowledge you're there.<<set $haircut to true>> [[NEXT->Page 176DD]] </h3>

<h3> Sally's eyes widen at the suggestion and he keeps his eyes in front of him, his lips making weird lip motions. He doesn't do anything else. You can already see the cogs working in his brain to give him images of you sticking a steel bar in your nose. You've haven't spent much time in the city so all the turns and lane changes that Sally makes confuses you. You pass similar buildings of brick, then some cement, some boring old townhouses, a few parks, one or two schools and maybe an adult theater that Sally blushes and drives by quickly. You catch people's eyes and even though you know you won't get the stares of distrust and discomfort people at home give you, it still surprises you when their eyes turn away disinterested. You're no one here, you didn't even have to drive far away for that to happen. After about fifteen minutes of driving you see the mall coming up on your right. To call it a mall isn't exactly correct. More accurately, it's a strip mall. A plaza of three rectangular sides, made of stucco with signs atop each store in red and a perfectly prim parking lot controlled by faux grass in square pavers. Your eyes glide past the names of the stories starting with a nail salon, a spa, a healthy foods store, a gym and what you're looking for. Instead of stopping the car in the parking lot Sally swerves to park perpendicular to the curb of the bookstore. He sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fingers through a few bills, mostly twenties and takes two out. As he hands them to you he says “please don't stay in there long, I don't know if those places do appointments.” You don't respond and step out of the car. The warm air rushes beneath your clothes, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. As pleasant as the weather is, you're unused to the feeling of it and wrap your arms around yourself, the money clenched firmly in your hand. In a few steps you shoulder open the door of the bookstore and enter it's aircooled atmosphere. The bell chimes and the lady at the counter stops her reading to see you walk past her. She doesn't react, her eyes going back to her book. There's a girl standing by the romance section, a pensive look in her eyes as she casually flips through a book. She shuts the book and looks over to the kids section, a non-enthusiastic look in her eyes. Teens, a section of books aimed at them. A boy sits crossed legged on the carpeted floor, happily staring down at a comic in his lap, from your angle it's about that spider hero. That's his name right? Your father has no comic books in the house for you to polish up on your hero knowledge. You see the section marked 'CLASSICS' and head for it, stepping over the legs of the boy who doesn't acknowledge you're there.<<set $piercing to true>> [[NEXT->Page 176DDD]] </h3>

<h3> Sally gets a delighted look in his eyes. “Percy will be disappointed when he realizes he missed seeing the water“ your brother says sympathetically. “He's always wanted to go out there and see the ocean.” You've haven't spent much time in the city so all the turns and lane changes that Sally makes confuses you. You pass similar buildings of brick, then some cement, some boring old townhouses, a few parks, one or two schools and maybe an adult theater that Sally blushes and drives by quickly. You catch people's eyes and even though you know you won't get the stares of distrust and discomfort people at home give you, it still surprises you when their eyes turn away disinterested. You're no one here, you didn't even have to drive far away for that to happen. After about fifteen minutes of driving you see the mall coming up on your right. To call it a mall isn't exactly correct. More accurately, it's a strip mall. A plaza of three rectangular sides, made of stucco with signs atop each store in red and a perfectly prim parking lot controlled by faux grass in square pavers. Your eyes glide past the names of the stories starting with a nail salon, a spa, a healthy foods store, a gym and what you're looking for. Instead of stopping the car in the parking lot Sally swerves to park perpendicular to the curb of the bookstore. He sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fingers through a few bills, mostly twenties and takes two out. As he hands them to you he says “please don't stay in there long, later on in the day the docks get chilly.” You don't respond and step out of the car. The warm air rushes beneath your clothes, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. As pleasant as the weather is, you're unused to the feeling of it and wrap your arms around yourself, the money clenched firmly in your hand. In a few steps you shoulder open the door of the bookstore and enter it's aircooled atmosphere. The bell chimes and the lady at the counter stops her reading to see you walk past her. She doesn't react, her eyes going back to her book. There's a girl standing by the romance section, a pensive look in her eyes as she casually flips through a book. She shuts the book and looks over to the kids section, a non-enthusiastic look in her eyes. Teens, a section of books aimed at them. A boy sits crossed legged on the carpeted floor, happily staring down at a comic in his lap, from your angle it's about that spider hero. That's his name right? Your father has no comic books in the house for you to polish up on your hero knowledge. You see the section marked 'CLASSICS' and head for it, stepping over the legs of the boy who doesn't acknowledge you're there. [[NEXT->Page 176DDDD]] </h3>

<h3> You run your pointer finger along the spines, some of them cracked, others torn at the corners, all of different sizes, colours and fonts you bend your head to read from. Your eyes halt your search when you see a book with an odd and long name. You try to figure out how to say it in your head before taking it out from the shelf. “Nec-row-nom-ick-con“ you sound out, the word tasting foreign and wrong in your mouth. You wrist twinges at the weight of the book and you hold it open with both hands. Your finger traces the gold lettering of the author's name. An odd name for an author of an odd book. You flip to the front page and read out what exactly is a Necronomicon. “Book of the dead“ you say under your breath. Your eyes move up and subtly look around you. The girl is being rung up at the counter and the boy is still reading on the floor. These books are illegal. At least in town. Anyone caught with one will get an immediate appointment with the mayor. You remember hearing about a boy in the 60s who discovered reading about some witch trials and the story goes that he was mysteriously disappeared. You don't know how true that story is but you do know that these books are nowhere in town. But up until this point you've never wondered why, you've also never stopped to think about the possibility that other places didn't have this law. Your shoulders feel heavy, you feel eyes on you that you know aren't real. You shut the book and stick it in its place, wiping your hands over your clothes as if it stained you. You spot the name of Dante tucked in one of the corners of the shelves and go for it. You take one last glance at that strange book before going to the lady at the front. When you lay the book on the counter she hardly looks up from her page. She grabs blindly for the book and flips to the back page, her eyes dart to the price written on the back cover in small penciled letters. "5.50“ she says. You hand her one of twenties and still without looking she presses a button on the cash register which automatically opens. She sticks the bill in there and fishes out fourteen dollars. Impressively, she feels around the coins and manages to give you the correct change. She sticks the receipt in the book and slides it over to you. You take it and when you realize she isn't going to say anything else you leave the store. The sun's rays blind you and you blink for several moments, shielding your eyes with your hand you squint and see Sally where you left him. He's talking on the phone connected to the car. He's making a gesture with his hand, the kind of gesture you make when you're telling someone to go straight but he's repeating it aggressively like he's trying to make a point. You take a step out from under the shadow of the stucco porch and Sally looks over to you. He says something and hangs up, turning back to you with a smile and a beckoning motion. [[NEXT->Page 177D]] </h3>

<h3> “My buddy said that this is the best French food restaurant in town and I don't know about you $name but I've always wanted to try European food“ your brother says animatedly. He's been talking on and on for the last ten minutes. You did ask him who he was on the phone with and he had said he was getting recommendations for somewhere to eat. You would've had an easier time believing that if he hadn't looked like he was arguing with someone but you didn't confront him, of course he would just deny it and frankly now isn't the time to get into an argument with your ever positive brother. “Didn't I say I wanted unique food?” you ask as the car reaches a stoplight. “Nope, you said you wanted new food. This is new food and according to my buddy they make a very delicious type of meal I'm sure you'll find unique enough“ he answers quickly. You roll your eyes, Sally isn't much of an adventurer. He likes similar patterns and if he feels like trying something new it's usually of the expensive variety. The light changes to green. The restaurant isn't far from that intersection, your brother stopping near a parked car by the sidewalk and parallel parking. You can't help but be slightly awed that he manages to do this correctly every time. If you ever decide to learn how to drive he could help you. After watching as your brother pays the parking meter you both cross the street together and head for a small little white building with periwinkle blue trimming and red roses in flower boxes lining the main window. It looks like a place out of a 1950s dream. Your brother pulls out a chair for you for one of the tables in front of the restaurant and you sit down, Sally pushing you in. He sits down across from you and signals to a girl in uniform by the door. She gives a nod and steps inside. The only other people here is an old couple, their hands clasped on the table as they use their free hands to pick at a bowl of ice cream. The waitress comes out of the restaurant with a notepad and in a false chipper tone she asks “hello, my name is Cindy and I'll be your waitress today. What can I get for you?” <hr>\ * [[Something savoury.->Page 178D]] * [[Something sweet.]] </h3>

<h3> You run your pointer finger along the spines, some of them cracked, others torn at the corners, all of different sizes, colours and fonts your bend you head to read from. Your eyes halt your search when you see a book with an odd and long name. You try to figure out how to say it in your head before taking it out from the shelf. “Nec-row-nom-ick-con“ you sound out, the word tasting foreign and wrong in your mouth. You wrist twinges at the weight of the book and you hold it open with both hands. Your finger traces the gold lettering of the author's name. An odd name for an author of an odd book. You flip to the front page and read out what exactly is a Necronomicon. “Book of the dead“ you say under your breath. Your eyes move up and subtly look around you. The girl is being rung up at the counter and the boy is still reading on the floor. These books are illegal. At least in town. Anyone caught with one will get an immediate appointment with the mayor. You remember hearing about a boy in the 60s who discovered reading about some witch trials and the story goes that he was mysteriously disappeared. You don't know how true that story is but you do know that these books are nowhere in town. But up until this point you've never wondered why, you've also never stopped to think about the possibility that other places didn't have this law. Your shoulders feel heavy, you feel eyes on you that you know aren't real. You shut the book and stick it in its place, wiping your hands over your clothes as if it stained you. You spot the name of Dante tucked in one of the corners of the shelves and go for it. You take one last glance at that strange book before going to the lady at the front. When you lay the book on the counter she hardly looks up from her page. She grabs blindly for the book and flips to the back page, her eyes dart to the price written on the back cover in small penciled letters. "5.50“ she says. You hand her one of twenties and still without looking she presses a button on the cash register which automatically opens. She sticks the bill in there and fishes out fourteen dollars. Impressively, she feels around the coins and manages to give you the correct change. She sticks the receipt in the book and slides it over to you. You take it and when you realize she isn't going to say anything else you leave the store. The sun's rays blind you and you blink for several moments, shielding your eyes with your hand you squint and see Sally where you left him. He's talking on the phone connected to the car. He's making a gesture with his hand, the kind of gesture you make when you're telling someone to go straight but he's repeating it aggressively like he's trying to make a point. You take a step out from under the shadow of the stucco porch and Sally looks over to you. He says something and hangs up, turning back to you with a smile and a beckoning motion. [[NEXT->Page 177DD]] </h3>

<h3> You run your pointer finger along the spines, some of them cracked, others torn at the corners, all of different sizes, colours and fonts you bend your head to read from. Your eyes halt your search when you see a book with an odd and long name. You try to figure out how to say it in your head before taking it out from the shelf. “Nec-row-nom-ick-con“ you sound out, the word tasting foreign and wrong in your mouth. You wrist twinges at the weight of the book and you hold it open with both hands. Your finger traces the gold lettering of the author's name. An odd name for an author of an odd book. You flip to the front page and read out what exactly is a Necronomicon. “Book of the dead“ you say under your breath. Your eyes move up and subtly look around you. The girl is being rung up at the counter and the boy is still reading on the floor. These books are illegal. At least in town. Anyone caught with one will get an immediate appointment with the mayor. You remember hearing about a boy in the 60s who discovered reading about some witch trails and the story goes that he was mysteriously disappeared. You don't know how true that story is but you do know that these books are nowhere in town. But up until this point you've never wondered why, you've also never stopped to think about the possibility that other places didn't have this law. Your shoulders feel heavy, you feel eyes on you that you know aren't real. You shut the book and stick it in its place, wiping your hands over your clothes as if it stained you. You spot the name of Dante tucked in one of the corners of the shelves and go for it. You take one last glance at that strange book before going to the lady at the front. When you lay the book on the counter she hardly looks up from her page. She grabs blindly for the book and flips to the back page, her eyes dart to the price written on the back cover in small penciled letters. "5.50“ she says. You hand her one of twenties and still without looking she presses a button on the cash register which automatically opens. She sticks the bill in there and fishes out fourteen dollars. Impressively, she feels around the coins and manages to give you the correct change. She sticks the receipt in the book and slides it over to you. You take it and when you realize she isn't going to say anything else you leave the store. The sun's rays blind you and you blink for several moments, shielding your eyes with your hand you squint and see Sally where you left him. He's talking on the phone connected to the car. He's making a gesture with his hand, the kind of gesture you make when you're telling someone to go straight but he's repeating it aggressively like he's trying to make a point. You take a step out from under the shadow of the stucco porch and Sally looks over to you. He says something and hangs up, turning back to you with a smile and a beckoning motion. [[NEXT->Page 177DDD]] </h3>

<h3> “My buddy said that this is the best hair salon in the city, for women and men cuts and the most respectable“ your brother says animatedly. He's been talking on and on for the last ten minutes. You did ask him who he was on the phone with and he had said he was getting recommendations for upscale hair salons. You would've had an easier time believing that if he hadn't looked like he was arguing with someone but you didn't confront him, of course he would just deny it and frankly now isn't the time to get into an argument with your ever positive brother. “I don't really need a fancy place“ you say as the car reaches a stoplight. “No one needs fancy but wouldn't you feel better going to experts with high quality products and tools than a random salon tucked between a pizzeria and video store?” he asks quickly. You roll your eyes, Sally isn't much of an adventurer. He likes similar patterns and if he feels like trying something new it's usually of the expensive variety. The light changes to green. The hair salon is another five minutes from the intersection, your brother stopping near a parked car by the sidewalk and parallel parking. You can't help but be slightly awed that he manages to do this correctly every time. If you ever decide to learn how to drive he could help you. After watching as your brother pays the parking meter you both cross the street together and head for a brick and mortar building with a big front shop window. It doesn't look like anything too fancy. Your brother opens the door for you and follows you inside. The inside is painted white, the fluorescents bouncing off the walls and making it slightly too bright. You pull out your sunglasses. A girl minding the front counter smiles at your brother and then at you. The only other people here are two hairdressers working on their respective clients. “Hello, welcome to Mindy's Hair salon! My name is Roxane, what can I help you with today?” she says, speaking to your brother. <hr>\ * [[“I want a pixie cut.”][$cutty to true]] * [[“I want a mohawk.”][$cutty to true]] * [[“I want a bob.”][$cutty to true]] * [[“I want a trim.”][$cutty to true]] * [[“I want to dye my hair.”]] </h3>

<h3> “My buddy said that this is the safest piercer in the city and one of those places that isn't in a tattoo shop“ your brother says animatedly. He's been talking on and on for the last ten minutes. You did ask him who he was on the phone with and he had said he was getting recommendations for upscale hair salons. You would've had an easier time believing that if he hadn't looked like he was arguing with someone but you didn't confront him, of course he would just deny it and frankly now isn't the time to get into an argument with your ever positive brother. “Maybe I want to get a tattoo as well“ you say as the car reaches a stoplight. “Yes that is very funny $name, next time you make a joke like that be sure to do it when I'm not driving“ he answers quickly. You roll your eyes, Sally isn't much of an adventurer. He likes similar patterns and if he feels like trying something new it's usually of the expensive variety. The light changes to green. The piercing shop is another ten minutes from the intersection, your brother stopping near a parked car by the sidewalk and parallel parking. You can't help but be slightly awed that he manages to do this correctly every time. If you ever decide to learn how to drive he could help you. After watching as your brother pays the parking meter you both cross the street together and head for the brown building sandwiched between a pizzeria and a video store . It looks like one of those places little girls go to get their first piercing. Your brother opens the door for you and follows you inside. The inside is painted a hot pink so vibrant it contaminates the light and makes the whole place far too pink. You pull out your sunglasses. A boy minding the front counter smiles at you and your brother. The only other people here are a mother and her daughter who is wiping away her tears as her mother tells her how pretty her little earrings look. “How are you both doing today? I'm Nathan and what may I insist you in?” he says, eyes alternating between you and Sally. <hr>\ * [[“I would like a cartilage piercing.”]] * [[“I want a nose piercing.”]] * [[“I want a tongue piercing.”]] * [[“I want my first piercings on my earlobes.”]] </h3>

<h3> “My buddy said that ferries aren't operating today so we won't be able to go out to the sound today“ your brother says apologetically. He's been talking on and on for the last ten minutes. You did ask him who he was on the phone with and he had said he was getting recommendations for upscale hair salons. You would've had an easier time believing that if he hadn't looked like he was arguing with someone but you didn't confront him, of course he would just deny it and frankly now isn't the time to get into an argument with your ever positive brother. “Father should've bought a boat“ you say as the car reaches a stoplight. “Father isn't too keen on water and he doesn't like spending money on frivolity“ he says quickly. You roll your eyes, Sally isn't much of an adventurer. He likes similar patterns and if he feels like trying something new it's usually of the expensive variety. The light changes to green. The docks are another thirty minutes from the intersection, your brother stopping near a parked car by the sidewalk and parallel parking. You can't help but be slightly awed that he manages to do this correctly every time. If you ever decide to learn how to drive he could help you. After watching as your brother pays the parking meter you both cross the street together and head the park, on the other side of is the cement platform that runs all along shore with wooden docks spaced out evenly. He lends you his arm and you take it, both of you passing the screaming kids playing in the park monitored by their parents. The breeze picks up and you feel selfishly appreciative that it's coming from your brother's side. There's a young couple strolling along the platform, the boy directs the girl to go down one of the docks as he brings the portable camera he has hanging from his neck up to his face. A strong gust of cold winds hits you then, running under your clothes. <hr>\ * [[“Sally I want to go now.”]] * [[You bear through it.]] </h3>

<h3> You find it odd that you haven't even gotten a menu and you wrack your brain trying to remember the names of French foods. “Do you have something called crepes- “ “We'll have the escargot, please“ your brother says with a friendly smile. The waitress writes it down as if you weren't interrupted and heads back inside after saying that it's 'coming right up.' Your brother turns his eyes away from the retreating waitress to find you giving him an inscrutable face and he raises his hands in surrender “look... it's something new, just like you asked.” //You didn't even let me fucking speak// a little voice chips in in the back of your mind. You hum and lean back against the chair, your hands lazily clasped together against your stomach. You see the old couple lean across the table to presumably kiss each other, before their lips touch you look down and fish your sunglasses from your pocket. Through your tinted lenses you watch as your brother fiddles with the folded napkin on the table. It was origami-ed into the shape of a swan. Sally undoes it and begins folding it himself, to his specifications. He checks his watch and his lips tighten just a fraction. Before either of you can think of anything to break the silence, Cindy comes out of the restaurant with two covered plates in each hand. Sally raises his hands to aid her; in a feat of admirable dexterity she manages to gently and swiftly slide the plates in front of each of you. She takes off the silver covers with a “voila!“ and what you see on your plate is a group of ten greasy peach coloured shells with a darkened meat like substance in the opening swirl that must be the snail itself. Your stomach does a weird lurch and your wrinkled noise pushes you back in your chair. Sally doesn't seem to notice as the waitress is making eyes at him and he's doing his best to seem both respectable and also flirty which to you looks like a disaster but by Cindy's giggle it must seem he's more charming than he seems. Or she could just be a stupid idiot. As Sally talks about the weather with Cindy, he sticks his fork into the opening of the snail and fishes out a piece of that meat, sticking it into his mouth and chewing. You watch to see if he has any adverse reactions but he swallows and keeps talking. Well, your brother's antics won't poison you. <hr>\ * [[Take a bite.->Page 179D]] * [[Push the plate away.]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother sighs heavily and gives you a look that you promptly ignore. The girl, Roxane is slightly surprised that you answered her and her bright smile drops just a fraction when her eyes move from your brother's to yours. “Oh! That would look so cute on you!“ she says cheerfully. “Please, sit,” she gestures vaguely to the hair cut section. Sally tries to follow you put Roxane steps in front of him and starts babbling on about some random thing. You sit next to a lady who has one of those helmet dryers, the noise loud enough to prevent any small talk taking place, she gives you a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to reading her magazine. “Hey!“ a male hairdresser snaps from the other side of the room “client's waiting“ he points to you. Roxane rolls her eyes and tells your brother she'll be back, a hand touching his chest before walking over to stand behind you. Her expression in the mirror isn't as nice.<<set $hairlength to 'pixie cut'>> She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you back against the seat. In a bored sigh she asks “a pixie cute right?” she doesn't wait for you to answer, moving over to grab a black cape she throws over you and buttons to your neck. The tight fabric makes you feel like you're wearing a turtleneck. “Do you want a wash? I'm not in the mood— WE OFFER THE BEST SERVICE HERE TO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS!“ she sort of screams in your ear, her hair pulling now becoming gentle strokes. You see your brother come into frame in the mirror. “What is it?” he asks, looking from you to Roxane. Roxane beams when his eyes find hers “oh! I was just asking your...?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Sister,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Brother,” he answers.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your sister if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your brother if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<</if>> Your brother checks his watch and frowns “well, we might get home a bit late. But it's your choice“ he says to you. <hr>\ * [[You want a wash.]] * [[You're fine.]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother sighs heavily and gives you a look that you promptly ignore. The girl, Roxane is slightly surprised that you answered her and her bright smile drops just a fraction when her eyes move from your brother's to yours. “Oh! That would look cool for you!“ she says cheerfully. “Please, sit“ you gestures vaguely to the hair cut section. Sally tries to follow you put Roxane steps in front of him and starts babbling on about some random thing. You sit next to a lady who has one of those helmet dryers, the noise loud enough to prevent any small talk taking place, she gives you a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to reading her magazine.<<set $hairlength to 'mohawk'>> “Hey!“ a male hairdresser snaps from the other side of the room “client's waiting“ he points to you. Roxane rolls her eyes and tells your brother she'll be back, a hand touching his chest before walking over to stand behind you. Her expression in the mirror isn't as nice. She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you back against the seat. In a bored sigh she asks “a mohawk right?” she doesn't wait for you to answer, moving over to grab a black cape she throws over you and buttons to your neck. The tight fabric makes you feel like you're wearing a turtleneck. “Do you want a wash? I'm not in the mood— WE OFFER THE BEST SERVICE HERE TO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS!“ she sort of screams in your ear, her hair pulling now becoming gentle strokes. You see your brother come into frame in the mirror. “What is it?” he asks, looking from you to Roxane. Roxane beams when his eyes find hers “oh! I was just asking your...?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Sister,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Brother,” he answers.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your sister if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your brother if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<</if>> Your brother checks his watch and frowns “well, we might get home a bit late. But it's your choice“ he says to you. <hr>\ * [[You want a wash.->Page 178DD]] * [[You're fine.->Page 178DD*]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother doesn't make a sound but does give you a look that you promptly ignore. The girl, Roxane is slightly surprised that you answered her and her bright smile drops just a fraction when her eyes move from your brother's to yours. “Oh! That still is so in this year!“ she says cheerfully. “Please, sit“ you gestures vaguely to the hair cut section. Sally tries to follow you put Roxane steps in front of him and starts babbling on about some random thing. You sit next to a lady who has one of those helmet dryers, the noise loud enough to prevent any small talk taking place, she gives you a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to reading her magazine. “Hey!“ a male hairdresser snaps from the other side of the room “client's waiting“ he points to you. Roxane rolls her eyes and tells your brother she'll be back, a hand touching his chest before walking over to stand behind you. Her expression in the mirror isn't as nice.<<set $hairlength to 'bob'>> She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you back against the seat. In a bored sigh she asks “a bob right?” she doesn't wait for you to answer, moving over to grab a black cape she throws over you and buttons to your neck. The tight fabric makes you feel like you're wearing a turtleneck. “Do you want a wash? I'm not in the mood— WE OFFER THE BEST SERVICE HERE TO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS!“ she sort of screams in your ear, her hair pulling now becoming gentle strokes. You see your brother come into frame in the mirror. “What is it?” he asks, looking from you to Roxane. Roxane beams when his eyes find hers “oh! I was just asking your...?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Sister,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Brother,” he answers.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your sister if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your brother if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<</if>> Your brother checks his watch and frowns “well, we might get home a bit late. But it's your choice“ he says to you. <hr>\ * [[You want a wash.->Page 178DDD]] * [[You're fine.->Page 178DDD*]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother's eyes open a tad and then he smiles, he must be relieved. The girl, Roxane is slightly surprised that you answered her and her bright smile drops just a fraction when her eyes move from your brother's to yours. “Oh! How very sensible you're hair is already perfect without needing too much cutting!“ she says cheerfully. “Please, sit“ you gestures vaguely to the hair cut section. Sally tries to follow you put Roxane steps in front of him and starts babbling on about some random thing. You sit next to a lady who has one of those helmet dryers, the noise loud enough to prevent any small talk taking place, she gives you a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to reading her magazine. “Hey!“ a male hairdresser snaps from the other side of the room “client's waiting“ he points to you. Roxane rolls her eyes and tells your brother she'll be back, a hand touching his chest before walking over to stand behind you. Her expression in the mirror isn't as nice.<<set $hairlength to 'trim'>> She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you back against the seat. In a bored sigh she asks “just a trim right?” she doesn't wait for you to answer, moving over to grab a black cape she throws over you and buttons to your neck. The tight fabric makes you feel like you're wearing a turtleneck. “Do you want a wash? I'm not in the mood— WE OFFER THE BEST SERVICE HERE TO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS!“ she sort of screams in your ear, her hair pulling now becoming gentle strokes. You see your brother come into frame in the mirror. “What is it?” he asks, looking from you to Roxane. Roxane beams when his eyes find hers “oh! I was just asking your...?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Sister,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Brother,” he answers.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your sister if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your brother if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<</if>> Your brother checks his watch and frowns “well, we might get home a bit late. But it's your choice“ he says to you. <hr>\ * [[You want a wash.->Page 178DDDD]] * [[You're fine.->Page 178DDDD*]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother says “oh my god“ and gives you a look that you promptly ignore. The girl, Roxane is slightly surprised that you answered her and her bright smile drops just a fraction when her eyes move from your brother's to yours. “Oh! How totally alternative!“ she says cheerfully. “Please, sit“ you gestures vaguely to the hair cut section. Sally tries to follow you put Roxane steps in front of him and starts babbling on about some random thing. You sit next to a lady who has one of those helmet dryers, the noise loud enough to prevent any small talk taking place, she gives you a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to reading her magazine. “Hey!“ a male hairdresser snaps from the other side of the room “client's waiting“ he points to you. Roxane rolls her eyes and tells your brother she'll be back, a hand touching his chest before walking over to stand behind you. Her expression in the mirror isn't as nice. She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you back against the seat. In a bored sigh she asks “a dye job right?” she doesn't wait for you to answer, moving over to grab a black cape she throws over you and buttons to your neck. The tight fabric makes you feel like you're wearing a turtleneck. “Do you want a wash? I'm not in the mood— WE OFFER THE BEST SERVICE HERE TO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS!“ she sort of screams in your ear, her hair pulling now becoming gentle strokes. You see your brother come into frame in the mirror. “What is it?” he asks, looking from you to Roxane. Roxane beams when his eyes find hers “oh! I was just asking your...?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Sister,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Brother,” he answers.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your sister if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Her strained act of joy seems to relax at that “I was just asking your brother if they want a wash, we do everything here.” Roxane's hands are still running gently through your strands.<</if>> Your brother checks his watch and frowns “well, we might get home a bit late. But it's your choice“ he says to you. <hr>\ * [[You want a wash.->Page 178DDDDD]] * [[You're fine.->Page 178DDDDD*]] </h3>

<h3> Sally coughs, pointedly and somehow he makes it sound disapproving. The boy smiles wide at you and has the confidence to walk over to the other side of the desk and place a hand on your back. “Follow me to this seat right here“ he says. You sit down where he instructed you and goes over to the mother and daughter duo. He's speaking low enough where you can't hear him but by the intonation of his voice it sounds like he's trying to soothe the girl.<<set $piercing to 'cartilage.'>> You scoot back into the seat and fold your hands over your lap. Your brother walks over and stares at the collection of earrings on the wall next to you. He bends his head and squints at what looks like a large ring of an earring. The man, Nathan, guides the sniffling little girl and her mother to the front desk and soon enough dispatches them. Sally straightens up when Nathan makes his way over to you. Nathan doesn't even pay Sally any mind and swivels your chair towards the mirror. His reflection has a large smile that seems too big to be fake. Why the hell is he so happy for? “Cartilage right?” he asks. You nod. With his bare fingers, Nathan lightly touches your ear and your eyes flick to Sally who gives Nathan an odd you look you can't understand. He doesn't look happy though. “Just give me a sec“ the piercer says and goes over to a sink on the other side of the room. Sally comes to stand next to you, his face turned towards Nathan. “What?” you ask, turning your head to Nathan's direction. He's washing his hands. “Huh“ Sally just says, his eyes narrowing as Nathan makes his way back over to you, pulling on some gloves. Nathan's smile seems to lower a bit at the ends when he spots Sally next to you. He catches you looking at the interaction and just grins in response, shrugging as if you're both involved in a private joke. “Ok, lean back and face me“ Nathan says. You do so and from somewhere he takes out a sharpie and dabs it on your ear. He looks at your ear and nods. “Now, this might hurt if you want I can hold your—“ “I can do that,” Sally interrupts and walks over to the side and grabs your hand. Nathan looks at your clasped hands and a glint of annoyance flashes in his eyes. “I was going to say, do you want someone to hold your hand?” Nathan tries to speak in a pleasant tone but it has a certain flavour of contained negativity. Sally squeezes your hand but is looking right at Nathan. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's sister,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's brother,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Sally can hold my hand.”]] * [[“I can handle it.”]] </h3>

<h3> Sally coughs, pointedly and somehow he makes it sound disapproving. The boy smiles wide at you and has the confidence to walk over to the other side of the desk and place a hand on your back. “Follow me to this seat right here“ he says. You sit down where he instructed you and goes over to the mother and daughter duo. He's speaking low enough where you can't hear him but by the intonation of his voice it sounds like he's trying to soothe the girl.<<set $piercing to 'nose.'>> You scoot back into the seat and fold your hands over your lap. Your brother walks over and stares at the collection of earrings on the wall next to you. He bends his head and squints at what looks like a large ring of an earring. The man, Nathan, guides the sniffling little girl and her mother to the front desk and soon enough dispatches them. Sally straightens up when Nathan makes his way over to you. Nathan doesn't even pay Sally any mind and swivels your chair towards the mirror. His reflection has a large smile that seems too big to be fake. Why the hell is he so happy for? “Nose right?” he asks. You nod. With his bare fingers, Nathan lightly touches your nostril and your eyes flick to Sally who gives Nathan an odd look you can't understand. He doesn't look happy though. “Just give me a sec“ the piercer says and goes over to a sink on the other side of the room. Sally comes to stand next to you, his face turned towards Nathan. “What?” you ask, turning your head to Nathan's direction. He's washing his hands. “Huh“ Sally just says, his eyes narrowing as Nathan makes his way back over to you, pulling on some gloves. Nathan's smile seems to lower a bit at the ends when he spots Sally next to you. He catches you looking at the interaction and just grins in response, shrugging as if you're both involved in a private joke. “Ok, lean back and tilt your head up“ Nathan says. You do so and from somewhere he takes out a sharpie and dabs it on your nose. He looks at his mark and nods. “Now, this might hurt if you want I can hold your—“ “I can do that“ Sally interrupts and walks over to the side and grabs your hand. Nathan looks at your clasped hands and a glint of annoyance flashes in his eyes. “I was going to say, do you want someone to hold your hand?” Nathan tries to speak in a pleasant tone but it has a certain flavour of contained negativity. Sally squeezes your hand but is looking right at Nathan. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's sister,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's brother,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Sally can hold my hand.”->Page 179DD]] * [[“I can handle it.”->Page 179DD*]] </h3>

<h3> Sally coughs, pointedly and somehow he makes it sound disapproving. The boy smiles wide at you and has the confidence to walk over to the other side of the desk and place a hand on your back. “Follow me to this seat right here“ he says. You sit down where he instructed you and goes over to the mother and daughter duo. He's speaking low enough where you can't hear him but by the intonation of his voice it sounds like he's trying to soothe the girl.<<set $piercing to 'tongue.'>> You scoot back into the seat and fold your hands over your lap. Your brother walks over and stares at the collection of earrings on the wall next to you. He bends his head and squints at what looks like a large ring of an earring. The man, Nathan, guides the sniffling little girl and her mother to the front desk and soon enough dispatches them. Sally straightens up when Nathan makes his way over to you. Nathan doesn't even pay Sally any mind and swivels your chair towards the mirror. His reflection has a large smile that seems too big to be fake. Why the hell is he so happy for? “Tongue right?” he asks. You nod. With his bare fingers, Nathan lightly touches your ear and your eyes flick to Sally who gives Nathan an odd look you can't understand. He doesn't look happy though. “Just give me a sec“ the piercer says and goes over to a sink on the other side of the room. Sally comes to stand next to you, his face turned towards Nathan. “What?” you ask, turning your head to Nathan's direction. He's washing his hands. “Huh“ Sally just says, his eyes narrowing as Nathan makes his way back over to you, pulling on some gloves. Nathan's smile seems to lower a bit at the ends when he spots Sally next to you. He catches you looking at the interaction and just grins in response, shrugging as if you're both involved in a private joke. “Ok, lean back and open wide“ Nathan says. You do so and from somewhere he takes out a sharpie and dabs it on your tongue. He looks inside your mouth and nods. “Now, this might hurt if you want I can hold your—“ “I can do that“ Sally interrupts and walks over to the side and grabs your hand. Nathan looks at your clasped hands and a glint of annoyance flashes in his eyes. “I was going to say, do you want someone to hold your hand?” Nathan tries to speak in a pleasant tone but it has a certain flavour of contained negativity. Sally squeezes your hand but is looking right at Nathan. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's sister,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's brother,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Sally can hold my hand.”->Page 179DDD]] * [[“I can handle it.”->Page 179DDD*]] </h3>

<h3> Sally coughs, pointedly and somehow he makes it sound disapproving. The boy smiles wide at you and has the confidence to walk over to the other side of the desk and place a hand on your back. “Follow me to this seat right here“ he says. You sit down where he instructed you and goes over to the mother and daughter duo. He's speaking low enough where you can't hear him but by the intonation of his voice it sounds like he's trying to soothe the girl.<<set $piercing to 'earlobes.'>> You scoot back into the seat and fold your hands over your lap. Your brother walks over and stares at the collection of earrings on the wall next to you. He bends his head and squints at what looks like a large ring of an earring. The man, Nathan, guides the sniffling little girl and her mother to the front desk and soon enough dispatches them. Sally straightens up when Nathan makes his way over to you. Nathan doesn't even pay Sally any mind and swivels your chair towards the mirror. His reflection has a large smile that seems too big to be fake. Why the hell is he so happy for? “Lobes right?” he asks. You nod. With his bare fingers, Nathan lightly touches your ear and your eyes flick to Sally who gives Nathan an odd look you can't understand. He doesn't look happy though. “Just give me a sec“ the piercer says and goes over to a sink on the other side of the room. Sally comes to stand next to you, his face turned towards Nathan. “What?” you ask, turning your head to Nathan's direction. He's washing his hands. “Huh“ Sally just says, his eyes narrowing as Nathan makes his way back over to you, pulling on some gloves. Nathan's smile seems to lower a bit at the ends when he spots Sally next to you. He catches you looking at the interaction and just grins in response, shrugging as if you're both involved in a private joke. “Ok, lean back and tilt your head up“ Nathan says. You do so and from somewhere he takes out a sharpie and dabs it on both of your eyes. He looks at each ear and nods. “Now, this might hurt if you want I can hold your—“ “I can do that“ Sally interrupts and walks over to the side and grabs your hand. Nathan looks at your clasped hands and a glint of annoyance flashes in his eyes. “I was going to say, do you want someone to hold your hand?” Nathan tries to speak in a pleasant tone but it has a certain flavour of contained negativity. Sally squeezes your hand but is looking right at Nathan. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's sister,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“It's either my hand or no one else's brother,” Sally states, leaving no room for argument, his eyes plastered onto Nathan who seems to now deflate under your brother's eyes.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Sally can hold my hand.”->Page 179DDDD]] * [[“I can handle it.”->Page 179DDDD*]] </h3>

<h3> Sally looks at you surprised, “we just got—“ he sees you shiver and makes an 'O' with his mouth. He shrugs off his blazer and throws it over your shoulders. You try to button it up but Sally does it for you, fussing over you, pushing the collar up and grabbing your hands and sticking them in the blazer's pockets. “Come, we can sit by the park instead“ with a hand on your back he leads you to a wooden bench fencing the monkey bars. You see a little girl covering her eyes as another child, her brother perhaps, pushes her down the slide. You see Sally glancing at that same scene with a gentle smile on his face. He must feel your eyes on him and moves his head to look you in the eyes. “Do you remember how I would take you to the park? Whenever we were allowed?” he asks. You smile at him, your smile quickly dissipating as you turn back to the two siblings racing each other to swings. Their mother sits on a bench to your right, she yells at her children to not run and to not go too high on the swings. “Yeah, just the two of us“ Sally would usually just stay on the bench, watching you. He would only ever play with you if you asked, usually just to amuse you not because he wanted to. Sally was always older than he looked. “Never the other two“ you don't know why you said that. You hadn't even been thinking of it. All these years you've never questioned it. It was just the way things had happened. Sally clears his throat and rubs his chin. “You're right. I guess I never thought about bringing them“ he says, his brow furrowed as if he's thinking about it now and far too hard. “I just..” he stops himself and drops his hand from his chin. “Things just happen“ he says after a moment, his brow furrows even deeper at that. His chin tenses and you sense that he doesn't even like his answer. The little girl's scream makes both your heads snap in her direction, breaking the tension of this line of personal interrogation. The girl is laughing as her brother pushes her higher and higher. Their mother closes her book and stalks over to them, a stern look on her face. “I think we should go now“ your brother says and gets up without waiting for your answer. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You press your lips together and will your body to stop shivering, reminding yourself you've endured worse than a little chill. You and your brother walk towards the dock next to the couple, the boy with the camera walking up to his girlfriend and hugging her waist. Sally and you practically stroll down the wooden dock. The water sloshing against the structure, the sun running its rays through both of your same colored hair and your clothes ruffling against the wind. You two stop right at the end and peer down at the water, it's a dark blue, sunlight dancing off it like shiny gold bars. Your eyes travel further along the water until you reach the horizon, more accurately, whatever town or city is across the sound, too far to see. You know the ocean is somewhere far to your left. The water surrounding the docks on all sides gives the impression of a vast ocean here, endless. All big bodies of water give that illusion anyway. An alien planet made entirely of water. You and your brother being the lone survivors on a platform. The last of humanity. A nice dream that shatters when you hear the voices of the teenage couple say sweet sickly words to each other. “I never brought you kids here“ your brother says suddenly. You turn away from the couple to see your brother staring out at the water, a sad expression on his face. “I could've. Father taught me how to drive when I was 12, I could've brought all three of you here. We should've gone on the ferry“ your brother whispers that last part. You don't know if he expects you to answer him. His eyes squint but you don't think he's looking at the water, but straining to look somewhere else. To another time, perhaps? “Like I said Percy would've loved this“ Sally continues. His voice has a hazy quality to it, if voices could have a physical form to them. “Orla liked pretty things. She could have had fun too.” “Why didn't you bring us?” you ask, your voice low, you feel like the situation demands it. Sally shakes his head at the water, his eyes drooping “I thought I would have time.” Time? Does he mean before your sister died? You get that urge inside you that usually occurs where your sister is involved. You have the desire to ask. “Ok, it's getting too cold. You'll freeze to death“ your brother snaps his attention to your shaky fingers. “Let's get home“ he says with a cracked tone to his words as he tries to sound happy. He leads you away from the edge of the docks and back to the parked car. His steps were a little hurried. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> The sight of those things makes your lips curl and the waft of them makes your stomach lurch so you push it away from you, so far it touches Sally's own plate. Sally stops his talk with the waitress and looks from you to the plate “you want something else?” You nod and he rolls his lips but doesn't say anything. “Could you send this back?” he says to Cindy “sorry“ he adds when she takes the plate off the table. “Tell Cindy what you want.” “Um, do you have something savoury or sweet?” you ask. Cindy replies in the affirmative and goes back into the restauarant. You look at Sally who seems to be a tiny bit annoyed at you. If his stabbing of the fork into the shell is indicative of anything. When he doesn't make an attempt to have a conversation with you that's when you can tell. Cindy brings out three croissants filled with what you discover is cheese. Cindy tries to talk with your brother but he brushes her off in an unbothered manner that is unlike him. All this because you didn't want to eat snails? Because croissants are much easier to rip apart and eat you finish your food before your brother does his. You wipe your fingers on your swan napkin and then take a swipe at your mouth. You throw the napkin on the plate and look out at the sun. It's hiding behind some clouds as it aims to go to the horizon. More hours passed than you thought. “You could've at least tried it“ your brother finally says. You exhale, you know he's been waiting at least fifteen minutes to say that. “I didn't even want to eat it in the first place. //You did//“ you emphasize. You don't mean for your words to have a bite in them but you can't help it. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Ok sister. Fine“ Salvatore replies with an undercurrent of irritation to his voice. “If you can't do me the favour of eating what I wanted you to try at least take off your sunglasses.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Ok brother. Fine“ Salvatore replies with an undercurrent of irritation to his voice. “If you can't do me the favour of eating what I wanted you to try at least take off your sunglasses.”<</if>> You think of escalating the situation but it's late and he's your ride home, although it wouldn't be Sally's nature to ever leave you behind no matter how angry he was. You relent and push the sunglasses up and above your forehead. It doesn't take long for your brother to set down his fork, wipe his mouth, place the napkin on the plate and say “are we done here?” you nod and he makes a 'check' sign to Cindy. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You find it odd that you haven't even gotten a menu and you wrack your brain trying to remember the names of French foods. “Do you have something called Coq au- “ “We'll have the escargot, please“ your brother says with a friendly smile. The waitress writes it down as if you weren't interrupted and heads back inside after saying that it's 'coming right up.' Your brother turns his eyes away from the retreating waitress to find you giving him an inscrutable face and he raises his hands in surrender “look... it's something new, just like you asked.” //But it wasn't my choice// a little voice chips in in the back of your mind. You hum and lean back against the chair, your hands lazily clasped together against your stomach. You see the old couple lean across the table to presumably kiss each other, before their lips touch you look down and fish your sunglasses from your pocket. Through your tinted lenses you watch as your brother fiddles with the folded napkin on the table. It was origami-ed into the shape of a swan. Sally undoes it and begins folding it himself, to his specifications. He checks his watch and his lips tighten just a fraction. Before either of you can think of anything to break the silence, Cindy comes out of the restaurant with two covered plates in each hand. Sally raises his hands to aid her; in a feat of admirable dexterity she manages to gently and swiftly slide the plates in front of each of you. She takes off the silver covers with a “voila!“ and what you see on your plate is a group of ten greasy peach coloured shells with a darkened meat like substance in the opening swirl that must be the snail itself. Your stomach does a weird lurch and your wrinkled noise pushes you back in your chair. Sally doesn't seem to notice as the waitress is making eyes at him and he's doing his best to seem both respectable and also flirty which to you looks like a disaster but by Cindy's giggle it must seem he's more charming than he seems. Or she could just be dumb. As Sally talks about the weather with Cindy, he sticks his fork into the opening of the snail and fishes out a piece of that meat, sticking it into his mouth and chewing. You watch to see if he has any adverse reactions but he swallows and keeps talking. Well, it won't immediately kill you. <hr>\ * [[Take a bite.->Page 179D]] * [[Push the plate away.]] </h3>

<h3> You push aside your misgiving and grip the small fork in your hand. Steeling yourself you stick — more like stab — your fork into that odd snail meat and force it deeper, using your other hand to keep the shell from flying off the plate, your lips pressed together in a determined pout. Once you manage to arrange enough snail meat on your fork you take a moment to think before shoving it in your mouth and chewing without taking a moment to savour. Still, that's not how taste buds work. It doesn't taste that bad. Actually it kind of reminds you a bit of soil, not something as gross as dirt but soil. An expensive type of soil. You swallow and when your stomach doesn't push it up again you decide to attack another snail. Your eyes flick to your brother who staring at you with a perplexed but amused look in his face. Cindy, however, looks rather disturbed. A curl to her lip like the upper class get when they see something or someone disagreeable to their elite sensibilities act like barbarians around them. As a waitress it's surprising she feels she has the right. You ignore her and take another bite of snail. Your brother tells Cindy she can go now with such a finality that she doesn't even protest. Your brother eats much and with more class than you do but he enjoys his meal and enjoys that you like it as much as he does. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You throw your fork down and use your swan napkin to wipe your mouth. Sally still has half of his snails left. “Could you please push up your sunglasses sister?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You throw your fork down and use your swan napkin to wipe your mouth. Sally still has half of his snails left. “Could you please push up your sunglasses brother?”<</if>> You lean your head to the side at that request and Sally raises his eyebrow, he tilts his head too “please.” You sigh and push them up above your forehead. “Thank you,” he says and goes back to eating. Fortunately the sun is hiding behind some clouds as it makes its way down the horizon. Huh, time flies. The old couple left somewhere between your nervous taste testing and your satisfying gallop to the finishing line. It doesn't take long for your brother to set down his fork, wipe his mouth, place the napkin on the plate and say “ready to go?” you nod and he makes a 'check' sign to Cindy. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> The sky is painted with colours of purple, pink and orange as your brother drives you throughout Winchester. The drive here seemed much quicker than the drive back does. Sally twists the knob of the radio and tries to land on the perfect station, he passes some of the ones with the best music ranging from late 80s rock to early 90s grunge and you think he even catches the same sermon by the preacher again but it;s much more patchy than earlier. Finally he gives up and turns off the radio. You two don't feel the need to talk about anything and so you let the food settle pleasantly in your stomach and let the car rock you into a peaceful state of mind. It's one of the best days you've had since you've been here you realize. You didn't spend it locked in your room nor in town with people who will only ever judge you to not speak to you. You want to thank Sally but you don't want to interrupt the tranquility of the car with your voice. When you finally see the sign welcoming you into town, night has already fallen over everything. You absentmindedly watch the townies go about their night doing whatever it is that other people do in public on Main Street. You must have passed out in between the road from Main Street to the house because the slam of Sally's car door jolts you awake. You yawn and rub your eyes. Sally walks over to your side of the car and opens it. You grip the door and use the little strength left in your sleepy body and lift yourself off the seat and outside. You move past Sally and up the stairs of the front porch. You hear the car door slam behind you and push open one of the front doors. You walk a few steps into the foyer and turn around to watch your brother walk in and push the door shut. He folds his hands in front of him and says “how did you like your day?” <hr>\ * [[You kiss his cheek.->Page 181D]] * [[You grab his hand.]] * [[You thank him.]] * [[You say goodnight.]] </h3>

<h3> You lean in to brush your lips quickly against his cheek, the stubble nonplusses you. He looks so clean shaven. When you lean back you see a wide grin on his face and he leans in to peck your cheek. “Have a goodnight $name.” He goes to the parlour, “I'm sure the cook put foodout, you're welcome to it“ he says the door lightly clicking behind him. After that you had gone up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and letting the warm water rush over your skin. The warmth of the water had made you as tired as the car ride had and you had quickly washed yourself to shrug on your pyjamas. You threw the book on the nightstand and slipped under the covers. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> You take a step closer to slide your hand in his, your brother holds your hand firmly and squeezes. The callouses you feel on this palm nonplus you because it seems so unlike someone like Sally to have them. He lets go. “Have a goodnight $name.” He goes to the parlour, “I'm sure the cook put foodout, you're welcome to it“ he says the door lightly clicking behind him. After that you had gone up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and letting the warm water rush over your skin. The warmth of the water had made you as tired as the car ride had and you had quickly washed yourself to shrug on your pyjamas. You threw the book on the nightstand and slipped under the covers. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> You clasp your hands behind your back and say cordially “thank you for today, Sally. It meant a lot.” Your brother gives you a small smile and opens his mouth to say something. At least that's what you thought before he closes it a bit and says “you're welcome.” “Have a goodnight $name.” He goes to the parlour, “I'm sure the cook put foodout, you're welcome to it“ he says the door lightly clicking behind him. After that you had gone up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and letting the warm water rush over your skin. The warmth of the water had made you as tired as the car ride had and you had quickly washed yourself to shrug on your pyjamas. You threw the book on the nightstand and slipped under the covers. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> You stick your hands into your pockets and say with formality “well, goodnight Sally.” Your brother's eyebrow raises at the short and direct parting you've decided to give him. He looks at you for another second. “Have a goodnight $name.” He goes to the parlour, “I'm sure the cook put foodout, you're welcome to it“ he says the door lightly clicking behind him. After that you had gone up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and letting the warm water rush over your skin. The warmth of the water had made you as tired as the car ride had and you had quickly washed yourself to shrug on your pyjamas. You threw the book on the nightstand and slipped under the covers. [[NEXT->Page 183]] </h3>

<h3> “I wouldn't mind a wash“ you say. Roxane smiles at you and then, obviously, at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane directs you to the shampooing station. She's much more kinder now, asking you if the water is the right temperature, massaging product into your hair. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You're hair is twisted and with a hand on your shoulder blade, Roxane guides you back to your seat. There's not much ceremony to get to the cutting, you watch as damp $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I'd rather not waste time with something unnecessary“ you say, you had already washed your hair yesterday anyway. Roxane nods at you exaggeratedly and then, more importantly at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane without much ceremony brings the scissors to your hair. Roxane is notably far nicer now. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You watch as dry $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors, messy and not the sexy bedhead kind. Roxane opens a jar of something creamy and white, rubs her hands and runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. It has the effect of making your haircut more effortlessly chic. Reminiscent of Jean Seberg in Breathless. Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxanr unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I wouldn't mind a wash“ you say. Roxane smiles at you and then, obviously, at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane directs you to the shampooing station. She's much more kinder now, asking you if the water is the right temperature, massaging product into your hair. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You're hair is twisted and with a hand on your shoulder blade, Roxane guides you back to your seat. There's not much ceremony to get to the cutting, you watch as damp $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very blunt“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I'd rather not waste time with something unnecesaary“ you say, you had already washed your hair yesterday anyway. Roxane nods at you exaggeradly and then, more importantly at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane without much ceremony brings the scissors to your hair. Roxane is notably far nicer now. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You watch as dry $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors, messy and not the sexy bedhead kind. Roxane opens a jar of something creamy and white, rubs her hands and runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. It has the effect of making your haircut more effortlessly punk. You'd do well in Sex Pistols show. Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess you new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I wouldn't mind a wash“ you say. Roxane smiles at you and then, obviously, at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane directs you to the shampooing station. She's much more kinder now, asking you if the water is the right temperature, massaging product into your hair. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You're hair is twisted and with a hand on your shoulder blade, Roxane guides you back to your seat. There's not much ceremony to get to the cutting, you watch as damp $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks professional“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I'd rather not waste time with something unnecesaary“ you say, you had already washed your hair yesterday anyway. Roxane nods at you exaggeradly and then, more importantly at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane without much ceremony brings the scissors to your hair. Roxane is notably far nicer now. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You watch as dry $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors, messy and not the sexy bedhead kind. Roxane opens a jar of something creamy and white, rubs her hands and runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. It has the effect of making your haircut more effortlessly chic. You look like the wife of a drug lord in Miami who wears green dresses. Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess you new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I wouldn't mind a wash“ you say. Roxane smiles at you and then, obviously, at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane directs you to the shampooing station. She's much more kinder now, asking you if the water is the right temperature, massaging product into your hair. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You're hair is twisted and with a hand on your shoulder blade, Roxane guides you back to your seat. There's not much ceremony to get to the cutting, you watch as damp $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks good“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's smile looks honest, your hair length is not so obviously distinct from your previous length. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “I'd rather not waste time with something unnecessary,” you say, you had already washed your hair yesterday anyway. Roxane nods at you exaggeradly and then, more importantly at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane without much ceremony brings the scissors to your hair. Roxane is notably far nicer now. How much of a relief it must be for her to find out you aren't Sally's partner. You watch as dry $haircolor strands drop down the slope of the cape. The sound of scissors cutting your hair is almost soothing. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to cut off hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors, messy and not the sexy bedhead kind. Roxane opens a jar of something creamy and white, rubs her hands and runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. It has the effect of making your haircut more dynamic. You can't do much with a bob but it does look more interesting now. Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess you new haircut. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with a new haircut. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even,” he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> “No, thank you“ you say. Roxane smiles at you and then, obviously, at your brother. He goes back to sitting in one of the chairs by the waiting area and Roxane brings out the tin foil. She's much more kinder now, smiling as she passes you, readying her things. Once she has everything ready she lays her hands on the back of the chair. “Alright, what color would you like?” You think about it for a second. You actually hadn't even stopped to think what color eithers suit you best or not suit you at all but give out the impression you want. <hr>\ * [[“Black.”]] * [[“Red.”]] * [[“Blond.”]] * [[“Purple.”]] * [[“Blue.”]] * [[“Brown.”]] * [[“Gray.”]] * [[“Pink.”]] * [[“Green.”]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair.<<set $haircolor to 'black'>> “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother. <<set $haircolor to 'red'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'blond'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'purple'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'blue'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'brown'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'gray'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'pink'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> There's not much ceremony to get to the dyeing, you watch as damp $haircolor strands are brushed with product. The wrapping of your hair with foil almost relaxes you. Like a marionette, Roxane directs you to move your head to the left, to the right, down and up. When she comes over to get the hair on your forehead, you make awkward eye contact that neither of you knows how to nor probably cares to shatter. It doesn't take much to dye hair and it doesn't look like much when Roxane puts away the scissors since it's still sort of damp. A portable hair dryer churns to life and Roxane runs her fingers through your short strands as she goes around your head. The moment she clicks off the hair dryer, Sally walks into view and Roxane smiles at him in that — what she thinks is an adorable — way and holds a mirror behind you. Properly dried you now assess your new hair color. You turn your head side to side, run a hand across the small strands across your forehead and feel the now exposed expanse of the back of your neck. You look like you. Like you with different colored hair. “What do you think?” Roxane asks your brother.<<set $haircolor to 'green'>> “It looks very even“ he says as the male hairdresser that yelled at Roxane earlier jostles him aside, holding a broom and a dustpan to collect your fallen hair. Roxane unbuttons your cape and you stand up. Sally's small smile looks unconvincing but he doesn't say anything negative. With Roxane chattering his ear off he pays her at the counter, when she tries to not-so-subtly ask for his number Sally just smiles in like an adult humoring a child and doesn't respond. “Shall we go?” he asks you. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You squeeze your brother's hand and he reciprocates, casting a placid smile to Nathan who's own smile completely drops and he goes to sterilize the needle. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your and your brother's clasped hands to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your ear and your fingers held by Sally tense. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your ear. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your ear and twist something, your ear throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the red tip of your ear adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching, something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother doesn't let go of your hand as he helps you up. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You disentangle your brother's hand from yours and he doesn't protest. Although Nathan looks rather pleased with your choice. You see his hand stretch towards you and you grip both hands on the seat rests. Nathan's smile freezes but he doesn't say anything, turning around to presumably get the needle. Sally smiles at your relaxed hands. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your hands on the seatrests to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your ear and your fingers grip the seat rests firmly. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your ear. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your ear and twist something, your ear throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the red tip of your ear adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching, something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother holds out a hand to let you up and you take it. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You squeeze your brother's hand and he reciprocates, casting a placid smile to Nathan who's own smile completely drops and he goes to sterilize the needle. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your and your brother's clasped hands to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your nose and your fingers held by Sally tense. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your nose. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your nose and twist something, your nose throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the redness of your nostril adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching, something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother doesn't let go of your hand as he helps you up. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You disentangle your brother's hand from yours and he doesn't protest. Although Nathan looks rather pleased with your choice. You see his hand stretch towards you and you grip both hands on the seat rests. Nathan's smile freezes but he doesn't say anything, turning around to presumably get the needle. Sally smiles at your relaxed hands. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your hands on the seatrests to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your nose and your fingers grip the seat rests firmly. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your nose. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your nose and twist something, your nose throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the redness of your nostril adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother holds out a hand to let you up and you take it. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You squeeze your brother's hand and he reciprocates, casting a placid smile to Nathan who's own smile completely drops and he goes to sterilize the needle. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your and your brother's clasped hands to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles face and your fingers held by Sally tense. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your tongue. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your tongue and twist something, your tongue throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the pink of your tongue adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother doesn't let go of your hand as he helps you up. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You disentangle your brother's hand from yours and he doesn't protest. Although Nathan looks rather pleased with your choice. You see his hand stretch towards you and you grip both hands on the seat rests. Nathan's smile freezes but he doesn't say anything, turning around to presumably get the needle. Sally smiles at your relaxed hands. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your hands on the seatrests to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your face and your fingers grip the seat rests firmly. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. The pressure intensifies and the shaking of Nathan's fingers as he pushes the needle through your skin makes the hot pain spread through your tongue. However, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move your nose and twist something, your nose throbbing at its new wound makes your heartbeat clammer for your hearing's attention. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the pink of your tongue adorned with a silver earring. It's small and not eye-catching something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother holds out a hand to let you up and you take it. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You squeeze your brother's hand and he reciprocates, casting a placid smile to Nathan who's own smile completely drops and he goes to sterilize the needle. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your and your brother's clasped hands to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your ear and your fingers held by Sally tense. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. But it feels like a small little bite, something that doesn't spread or ache. Just like that, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move to your other ear and prick it as well. He twists something on ear and does the same thing to your other one. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the tender bottom flaps of your ears adorned with silver earrings. It's small and not eye-catching something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother doesn't let go of your hand as he helps you up. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You disentangle your brother's hand from yours and he doesn't protest. Although Nathan looks rather pleased with your choice. You see his hand stretch towards you and you grip both hands on the seat rests. Nathan's smile freezes but he doesn't say anything, turning around to presumably get the needle. Sally smiles at your relaxed hands. “You don't have to do this“ Sally says when Nathan's back is turned. You chuckle “obviously I don't. I //want// to do this brother.” Sally rolls his eyes but it's not done with any gravitas. He pinches your cheek before Nathan turns around with the sharp thin needle in his hand. His eyes glide from your hands on the seatrests to your face and he winks at you. That sort of action makes your skin feel prickly. You don't think you like it. You don't even know what is this that he's doing or whatever is going on that Sally noticed but you don't like it. You make sure your eyes are solely staring at the mirror in front of you. “Ready?” Nathan's breath tickles your ear and your fingers grip the seat rests firmly. Not all new experiences are great. “Yeah“ you grumble out. You can feel Nathan's eyes searching your face, most likely hoping you'll grace him with your eyes but you maintain your gaze firmly on your face reflected back to you. “Okie dokie“ he replies and tells you to take a deep breath in. Even though it's slightly childish, you don't listen to him and breathe out instead as you feel the prick of the needle on your skin. But it feels like a small little bite, something that doesn't spread or ache. Just like that, it's quick. You can't see what he's doing as his body blocks your view in the mirror but you feel him move to your other ear and prick it as well. He twists something on ear and does the same thing to your other one. “Annnddddd... there you go!“ Nathan enthusiasts. He brings a small mirror to your face and you see the tender bottom flaps of your ears adorned with a silver earrings. It's small and not eye-catching something that pleases your brother by the genuine relief in his face. Your brother holds out a hand to let you up and you take it. “Are you ok?” he asks, his other hand out to possibly grab you if you stumble. You nod and let go of his hand. Nathan opens his mouth to say something but your brother tells him he wants to pay now. You stand behind Sally as he blocks you from Nathan's view. Nathan charges Sally with all the friendliness of a middle aged man who's been cut off in traffic. “Let's go“ your brother tells you as he's sticking the change in his wallet. Before Nathan can make another move to talk to you, Sally lays a hand on your arm and steers you out of the shop. [[NEXT->Page 180D]] </h3>

<h3> You repeat this same action over and over again and you don't even think about the fact that you should've drowned a while ago. Must have strong lungs. You grit your teeth and pull yourself up so hard you break through the surface of the water and your head slams against something hard. “OW!“ you yell and let go of the rope, cupping your head and hissing through your clenched teeth. Your head is ringing so loudly you squeeze your eyes shut for several minutes and what've kept doing that for longer if something hadn't touched your shoulder. You whip around with your hands up by your face, ready to pummel whatever it is. You've had enough of this lake. Asia startles back and holds up their arms. “It's ok! It's me! I'm trying to–“ they pause to catch their breath “are you ok?” You let out a ragged breath and bring your hands down “Asia. Where are we?” Asia slowly lowers their arms and swallows before saying “in the boat“ she must see a confused look in your eyes because she elaborates “it capsized“ they grumble “Anemone capsized it. You came up and hit your head on it. If we move out from under it we can flip it over.” You rub your head, a sharp pain shooting down your skull to the base of the back of your throat. Your finger soothes a growing bump. Asia doesn't wait for your response before diving underwater. You let out a dramatic sigh before diving following them. Once you reach the real surface under the sky you don't have time to adjust your eyes to the blinding gray light before Asia is ordering you to grip under the side of the boat next to them. Surprisingly the boat doesn't feel that heavy and you two manage to flip it over with ease. You climb up first and help Asia. They immediately go over to the motor and you grab at the wet rope curled at the bottom, tied to a random hook that goes off the boat and goes into the water. “Thank god for your long rope Asia“ you comment. Asia throws you a smile over their shoulder and works on the engine. They pull at the lever and it roars to life, sputtering some water. Asia leans back and tiredly states “let's get the fuck out of here.” [[NEXT->Page Alive Scene 1]] </h3>

<h3> Today's headline ― ''Mr. and Mrs. Casey: Victims of Vandalism!.'' A black and white picture of the aforementioned couple standing in front of their house that's been pelted with hard-boiled eggs. On their garage door in big letters it says 'FUDGE PACKER.' Reports say it was written in a 'mysterious' brown substance that makes anyone who nears it cover their nose. The fact that Mr. Casey is the grade 11 math teacher who is known to be a very hard grader probably has something to do with it. This happens to him every three months. Your eyes skim along the bold black text, you turn the page and skim, then you do the same with the next page, and the next, and the next. You read everything already. What are you hoping for? Your sheer force of will won't magically subtract a story to add another one. The one you need. There has been no mention of Stephanie Burrows body being found in the papers. Her name did appear a few days ago when her family had placed in the Monday edition that they had lost a family member and would like to have their privacy respected. There was no mention of how her body was found, no mention of her nudity, no mention of her mutilation, no mention that she had been missing and no mention of how she died. Reading the paper everyday has informed you of two things: one, this town is boring and two, no other girl has disappeared. Or maybe that's stupid to think, Stephanie wasn't reported in the newspapers. A girl might be missing right now and her family for whatever reason hasn't said anything. Could be that these people want their daughters, sisters, cousins and friends to die. [[NEXT->Page 185]] </h3>

<h3> The other day you had found Stephanie's locker at school. You had waited until school was out to examine it. Someone else had taken it. There was no memorial. It's like she has ceased to exist. <<audio "stephanie" loop play>> Imre had said she had friends, that she was going to a party before she died. Maybe this school had too many students or maybe you just don't pay enough attention but you hadn't see one person cry. Her name escaped no one's lips. You had looked to see if anyone was watching you before walking up to what used to be Stephanie's locker. You had... <hr>\ * [[reached out.->Page 186]] * [[done nothing.]] </h3>

<h3> You lifted your hand and pressed it against the cool steel. You had thought you felt the temperature of her locker seep through out your hand. A cold so foreign, primitive, nascent but also old. What death must be. Why do people associate death with coldness anyway? According to some religions, hell is hot and heaven is a temperate paradise. The only thing that's cold is the earth and by the time someone is dead, they don't feel it. How cold was she when she died? Did whatever bite into her feel her goosebumps? Did it make her flesh have more texture? Or was her fear enough enticement? You shook your head away from those thoughts. People don't think like that. Sane people don't think that way. How lucky you are that these words spoken in your mind aren't spoken aloud. You are aware how precious your freedom is. How easily it could be taken away. There's not much difference between an ex-con who got a conditional release and you. You had spread your fingers out. The prints left on the locker by your fingers dragged along. Did you say something? <hr>\ * [[“I'm sorry.”->Page 187]] * [[“I'll find who did this.”]] * [[“Help me.”]] * [[You can't find the words.]] </h3>

<h3> What could you have done? Caress her locker like a lover? Like a parent? Her locker isn't her. She's somewhere in this town dead. Anyway, such a display belonged to those who had known her in life. You are a stranger. Your body had shivered then. You had hugged yourself and were surprised to feel the goosebumps adorning your arms. You were cold. But from where? The school was warm, actually at points too hot. How cold was she when she died? Did whatever bite into her feel her goosebumps? Did it make her flesh have more texture? Or was her fear enough enticement? You shook your head away from those thoughts. People don't think like that. Sane people don't think that way. How lucky you are that these words spoken in your mind aren't spoken aloud. You are aware how precious your freedom is. How easily it could be taken away. There's not much difference between an ex-con who got a conditional release and you. Did you say something? <hr>\ * [[“I'm sorry.”->Page 187]] * [[“I'll find who did this.”]] * [[“Help me.”]] * [[You can't find the words.]] </h3>

<h3> You sighed and leaned your forehead against the cold locker. “I'm so sorry“ you whispered again. What were you sorry for? You hadn't killed her. You hadn't even know her body was down there. Up until a few weeks ago you hadn't even known girls were disappearing. The word 'sorry' is both powerful and vague. You could've been sorry that she died so young. That her body had been abused, mistreated and thrown in the thicket of bushes to rot. Maybe, you were sorry that you hadn't done anything in weeks to help her. There's so much to be sorry for. “Rest in peace“ you had said, for what it counts. [[NEXT->Page 188]] </h3>

<h3> Your hand had squeezed into a fist, your knuckles white but your hand stead. “They won't get away with this“ you had said in a tone that sounded strong. In that moment you did sound confident. But, it's easy to say things in the heat of the moment without making the real effort to do something. As the days passed you came to realize how little you had to go on. “They“ is nothing. It's not even square one. You had raised your own expectations but you didn't want to admit that. It's much better to think the person you swore to avenge can actually hear you. “I promise“ you had said, without thought. What a Sisyphean task. [[NEXT->Page 188]] </h3>

<h3> You moved your face closer to the locker and had spoken the words against its surface. “I need you to help me“ you had added to your original plea. What had you wanted from her? Had you hoped her ghost would find you and point to her killer? Did you want her to have made it easier for you? Was that selfish? You had asked her for something you have spent your whole life avoiding. Asking for help. You must've said those words before but your life had always been others helping you to help themselves. And isn't that what you're doing now? You need too much help. “Please,” you had said, talking to nothing. [[NEXT->Page 188]] </h3>

<h3> If it's so difficult to find the correct combination of words for a stranger you sit next to, how much harder must it be for someone you never knew that's very much dead. Words of lament are for the living and since you didn't know her those words were to be empty, broad and insincere. Wouldn't it also be like spitting in her face? Didn't she deserve better than a sentence or two that are found on grief pamphlets at an overworked and underpaid public therapist's office? Since words don't suffice, you'll need to honor her with actions. You had only opened your mouth that day to blow some air out of it. [[NEXT->Page 188]] </h3>

<h3> Of course, //she// has always been the exception. You had gone to her locker too. No one had taken it. No one was allowed to. Your eyes saw stickers, flowers, hearts, pictures and taped letters. A public display of fervent love is what she inspired. It's what she had always inspired. How did she do it? How do you get people to love you? She made it look as easy as breathing. You were gone by then but you had been told that when school started back up that September they had held a moment of silence for her. People had cried. Your eyes had landed on a piece of lined paper that said 'WE LOVE YOU.' You looked around you, made sure that no one was around. Having taken two steps forward within touching distance of what was hers you felt something deep in your chest. It traveled down to your stomach. There she was on the stage, in her pink dress, with her crown and her bouquet that Mother had given to her. The sash around her torso proclaiming her Spring Queen of 1990. That day you saw more love for her than you had ever received in your life. That scrap of paper with those words flapped due to some draft in the hallway. Seeing all of this, what had you felt? <hr>\ * [[☄ Rage.->Page 189]] * [[☄ Jealousy.]] * [[☄ Sick.]] * [[Sorrow.]] * [[Indifferent.]] * [[☽ Acceptance.]] </h3>

<h3>Not really thinking of anything else but the horrible, prickly feeling somewhere deep inside you, you took the note off her locker and crumpled it in your hand. Even as you felt the page distort and flatten you still dig your fingernails into the paper, ripping through it to the other side. Having opened your hand you saw the mess you made of what once was something made for love. You moved your hand sideways and let the crumpled piece of nothing fall to the floor. This action had not been enough. For good measure you lifted your foot and stomped down hard. You moved your foot around like a smoker stubbing out their cigarette. You dragged that paper along the floor and had a fleeting idea to do it with all the things stuck to that locker. <<set $Worth += 1>> You made a noise of frustration and defeat. You practically walked away on a tantrum. Feeling ashamed of yourself, hateful and overall envious. That was all for nothing and you ended up as jealous as your sister was of you. But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. Lorcan was right. The help sees everything. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h3> That sensation in your stomach made you want to lurch up whatever you had eaten that day for lunch. You covered your mouth with your hand and pressed your hand against your stomach. You remembered the living hell she made of your life. Seeing her so celebrated, knowing what she is makes you want to puke and never stop. Your knees felt wobbly and you had thought you were going to crumple to the ground in another panic attack. Those written words made loops around your head and you had barely made it to the bathroom before you vomited into the toilet. You clutched the black toilet seat as you emptied yourself out. After you were done you flushed the toilet, walked to the sink, splashed water over your face, rinsed and spit until the acidic flavour was gone from your mouth. Using your weak legs you had left the bathroom not feeling at all better. That type of sick is deeper than physical.<<set $Worth += 1>> But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. Lorcan was right. The help sees everything. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h3> You thought that's what it was. The truth is your sadness is incomplete without tears. It's like running full speed into a brick wall. You took off the piece of paper and held it in front of your eyes. The more you stared at those words the deeper the puncture in your chest was. The worst thing is you couldn't say in that moment what that sorrow was for. You closed your eyes and licked your upper lip. After that your shoulders slumped and you pressed the paper back to its original spot. Your eyes felt heavy. All you could do was shake your head and rub your chest as if that could wipe away that feeling so unpleasant and unwanted. You left then, the stench of a sadness you can't place trailing behind you like a chain. If you could only will it out. But first you'd have to find the origin and whether it's deserved or not. But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. Lorcan was right. The help sees everything. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h3> Your body might've been feeling some sort of way — although that might've been that day's lunch trying to make a reappearance — but you, your brain, that part that regulates emotions and then response wanted for nothing in that moment. What difference does it make if her locker has been memorialized or not? You ran your finger along the pieces of love given to your departed sister and they caused no reaction. They were just paper and plastic. Things that degrade in time, in twenty years time your sister will probably be one of those stories remolded to make her seem like a ghost that haunts the school and less a real person who existed. You had let your finger drop, and without much drama, left behind that morbid curiosity. For the time being, your sister's hold on you was lessened. You chose to revel in it that day because you hadn't known when you'd lose it again. But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. Lorcan was right. The help sees everything. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h3> Guided by that feeling inside of you, you had taken that stupid fucking note off her locker and ripped it once vertically, then horizontal and as the pieces became smaller the pure rage in your chest kept rising until you had been crouched on the floor picking up little pieces of paper and tearing them apart. You had stood up and stared at the litter at your feet. Your hot blood made you get the itch to start pulling down everything on that locker. But you decided to bite the inside of your cheek and practically stomp away. Feeling angry, embarrassed and powerless. <<set $Worth += 1>> Having accomplished nothing and being burdened with an anger that wouldn't leave you because you had no outlet to onload onto. But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h3>As you march down the front steps, Arthur is sitting in the car, a book in his hand and pencil scribbling something down.<<audio "stephanie" stop>> <<audio "investigation" loop play>> What do investigators do? They talk to people. You can't even begin to solve this thing if you're shut up in your room all day reading newspapers <<if $pathfour>>and replaying snippets of information you got from a boy whose honesty is questionable.<<elseif not $pathfour>>and replaying snippets of information you got from two boys whose honesty is questionable.<</if>> Passivity won't do. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur sees you approaching and tucks his pencil in his book, you see that its Sudoku. He seems more like a crossword person. Before you've even reached him, he's gotten out of the car and greeted you in his usual way “good day Miss Crown, how are you?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur sees you approaching and tucks his pencil in his book, you see that its Sudoku. He seems more like a crossword person. Before you've even reached him, he's gotten out of the car and greeted you in his usual way “good day Mister Crown, how are you?”<</if>> You don't answer him. It's not that you're trying to be rude but you want to figure out how to approach this. Just because Arthur works for your family doesn't mean he'll tell you things. It's always been clear from you to him that he doesn't actually work for you specifically. But... why Arthur of all people anyway? You hadn't even thought of him before you saw the car. It's like a lightbulb went on. <<if $pathfour>> As soon as Arthur had picked you up from the airport weeks ago he started telling you all that you had missed for each of your family members. He knew and knows things. And that's all by observation, it's not like any one in the house would tell him personal stuff. <<else>> Lorcan, as taunting and aggravating as he was that day when you walked home, said something very true. The help sees things. The rich are so used to ignoring them, and them being ignored that they make the perfect spies.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Miss Crown?” Arthur questions, waving in front his hand in front of your face. You blink and shove your hands in your pockets.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mister Crown?” Arthur questions, waving in front his hand in front of your face. You blink and shove your hands in your pockets.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Be nice.->Page 191]] * [[Be cold.]] * [[Be rude.]] </h3>

<h3>You try on the best, most convincing smile you can. Your cheekbones straining against the skin of your face due to unfamiliarity. You feel your teeth exposed to the elements and in turn you have placed yourself entirely out of your element. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's own friendly countenance slightly slips, his mouth is still smiling but his eyes look confused “are you... ok Miss Crown?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's own friendly countenance slightly slips, his mouth is still smiling but his eyes look confused “are you... ok Mister Crown?”<</if>> Your hands feel awkward in your pockets and you take them out, wanting to cross your arms but feeling that it would look closed off against what you're trying to produce with your face. You opt to place your hands on your hips. “Yes, completely fine“ you answer, your voice taking on a higher tone than it's usually at and this just makes Arthur look even more confused. Oh god, you can't seem to be able to act like a normal human being. //This is going swell//, you think. “I wanted to ask you some questions“ you say slowly, not asking if he's up for it but letting enough space for him to feel like you're coming from a good place. Brown eyes suddenly flash in your mind's eye. He makes it look so easy. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“O...kay“ Arthur replies, his eyebrows still bunched together but his smile has a stronger truth to it. “Ask me anything Miss Crown. I'm at your service.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“O...kay“ Arthur replies, his eyebrows still bunched together but his smile has a stronger truth to it. “Ask me anything Mister Crown. I'm at your service.”<</if>> You nod, you're smiling almost falling and you decide not to move your head that much. Unfortunately because you had the impulsive idea to talk to Arthur, you didn't have time to write anything down. Although, it could be a blessing. Bringing out a notepad and a pencil might seem too official and make him think he needs to tell your brother. Arthur coughs, with an awkward smiley expression. You think far too long when in a conversation. <hr>\ * [[“Do you know if Stephanie has been buried already?”->Page 192A]] * [[“What's the situation with the woods?”->Page 192AA]] </h3>

<h3>You press your lips in a firm line, keep your hands in your pockets but let your shoulders remain loose, almost too calm. You've never given thought if you were a cold human being but this seems to come easier to you than it would be if you were a warm <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>girl. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>boy.<</if>> Arthur's expression doesn't change in the slightest, you don't give him cause for suspicion. That's a good start. “Do you want me to drive you somewhere?” he asks. You think about how best to present yourself in terms of body language. You need to appear distant but not nervous and rude. Things that maybe you've done before but it's harder to work your body like a puppet consciously. You move your leg across the other one but change your mind and plant your feet firmly on the ground. “No, I don't need you for any of that“ you answer, your voice pitch lowering at odd intervals as your ability to act makes you too aware of what you're doing, it's distracting like trying to pat your stomach and rub your head at the same time. Fortunately, Arthur either doesn't notice or pretends not to, his face not moving an inch. //I might just make a fine no-nonsense detective just yet//, you think. “What I do need is to make a few inquiries“ you say confidently, your words don't waver in tone and you can feel your chest expanding giving all the signs that you're the one in control here. You see dark brown eyes in your head. She's great at this, maybe you learned from her. “Oh“ Athur simply says, no visible change to his body language but a bit of a nervous glint in his eye. “I hope I haven't done anything wrong, you can ask away.” You don't give the satisfaction of an affirmation or negation. His smile slips but he pulls it back up, looking rather shaky now. You feel a sense of power in you. It's almost pleasant. Unfortunately because you had the impulsive idea to talk to Arthur, you didn't have time to write anything down. Although, it could be a blessing. Bringing out a notepad and a pencil might seem too official and make him think he needs to tell your brother. Arthur coughs, with a poor imitation of a smile etched on his mouth. You think far too long when in a conversation. <hr>\ * [[“Has Stephanie Burrows been interred?”->Page 192B]] * [[“Explain to me what has been done to protect people from the woods.”->Page 192BB]] </h3>

<h3>You press your teeth together, the muscles in your jaw tensing with the action. You momentarily narrow your eyes before choosing to instead draw your eyelids down. You don't have a mirror but hopefully you look annoyed instead of sleepy. You have been rude in your life, sometimes cruel but it's never been a calculated move. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's smile widens even more, but it doesn't affect his eyes. Actually knowing him as you do you looks a bit scared, he must think you're about to yell at him. Which... you might do. “Is... did... everything fine Miss Crown?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's smile widens even more, but it doesn't affect his eyes. Actually knowing him as you do you looks a bit scared, he must think you're about to yell at him. Which... you might do. “Is... did... everything fine Mister Crown?”<</if>> You take your hands out of your pockets and flex your fingers, making them hover over your hips and then lifting them to your chest. Arthur's eyebrows knit together at your incomplete movements and before you end up looking ridiculous instead of menacing you drop your arms to your sides. “Actually no Arthur. Do I look like I'm fucking fine?” you move your face from side to side to make your point. Arthur tries to smile but on noticing you don't return it he just nods and swallows. //Kind of easy for me to be such a bastard//, you think. “I can't believe I'm asking you of all people but turns out you might actually have a brain behind that stupid face you always make“ you spit. The words come to you so naturally you're surprised at yourself. You think of gray eyes, perhaps all the years fighting with him has actually given you something, apart from headaches. “Uh“ Arthur says, his face stunned at how viciously direct your words are. His mouth closes but his eyes are noticeably wide. He resembles a scared cartoon cat. “Well... thank you? How can I help?” He blows a stream of air from his somewhat gaping mouth. He manages to look both stunned and like he's about to cry. You ignore the small thrill it gives you. Unfortunately because you had the impulsive idea to talk to Arthur, you didn't have time to write anything down. Although, it could be a blessing. Bringing out a notepad and a pencil might seem too official and make him think he needs to tell your brother. Arthur coughs, no longer attempting to even fake a smile. You think far too long when in a conversation. <hr>\ * [[“The dead girl, what's up with her body?”->Page 192C]] * [[“So is anyone in this town competent?”->Page 192CC]] </h3>

<h3> “Stephanie?” he asks. You chuckle and when you see his confused expression you clarify “Stephanie Burrows... the girl who was found deceased—“ “OH! Yes! Of course!“ Arthur interrupts with a grin, “yes her. I'm sorry I completely forgot about that terrible thing.” He still looks rather cheerful. You almost feel mean thinking he resembles a dog that's happy they did something their owner liked. You nod, trying to smile while also speaking “so as I was saying?” You look at Arthur expectantly and he looks lost for a second “oh yes! Right your question!“ “Yes the question“ you say politely. “Well no she has not been. Mr. Salvatore would've been invited to the funeral. The Wisteria family are close friends to this family“ he explains. “There seems to be a problem with how to execute it.” You quirk your eyebrow, the action at odds with that strained smile on your face “problem? “Well yes. Her body... well, her mother slash cousin-in-law is Catholic and she wanted her buried with all the rites but Father Simmons refused. Said something about 'demonic forces' and 'contaminated corporeal body'“ Arthur quotes his words and laughs. You laugh with him, making sure that your eyes crinkle. “So she's... where?” Arthur hums before saying “at the morgue I think.” You make a 'huh' noise in your throat. <hr>\ * [[“What's the situation with the woods?”->Page 192AA]] * [[You don't know what else to ask.->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> “Like I know it's always been a bit dangerous but I don't think naked eaten bodies have ever been found there“ you elaborate with an added awkward laugh. Arthur laughs too, a bit too forcefully. “Yeah that's-that's not one of the town's usual odd stuff. But there isn't a lot to tell, things are getting too dangerous for young girls and the mayor along with the town council have told everyone to stay away.” Your eyebrows rise and fall like another way to shrug “yeah I heard that. It's probably gotten worse now that Stephanie was found like that.” Arthur shakes his head “not worse, kind of the same. Well, the same since that girl was found.” Your cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling but you push through and comment “so I guess Stephanie was found and everyone wants to pretend everything is the same while also telling everyone to not go into the woods. This town.” Arthur shakes his head again “no. Stephanie has made people scared but after you find one body, the second one doesn't scare you as much.” [[NEXT->Page 193A]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“What does that mean Miss Crown?” he asks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“What does that mean Mister Crown?” he asks.<</if>> You raise your eyebrow “what does what mean? Interred?” Arthur nods his head and you expel an audible stream of air from your nose. “It means buried Arthur.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur makes an 'O' with his mouth and then nods quickly “you know such fancy words Miss Crown. I always did think you were the genius of the family.” He beams at you and you answer him with sinking eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur makes an 'O' with his mouth and then nods quickly “you know such fancy words Mister Crown. I always did think you were the genius of the family.” He beams at you and you answer him with sinking eyes.<</if>> You clear your throat and when he keeps giving you that same happy-go-lucky face you say in a monotone voice “I asked you a question, Arthur.” “Oh of course!“ Arthur snaps his fingers and looks away from you for a second, his face concentrated on a thought. You stretch your arm out and snap your fingers near his face “hello?” Arthur startles and looks back at you “uh yes Stephanie. No she hasn't been yet. If she had you would've known because Mr. Salvatore would've gone as you know the Wisteria family and the Crown family have a history of friendship.” You don't visibly react to that information. You actually didn't know. You don't know nearly enough as you should. “And why exactly hasn't she been?” you query. “Because, well first of all her adopted mom Mrs. Wisteria wanted a Catholic funeral but Father Simmons said he wouldn't bury a 'body stained with the devil's influence.'“ He takes the time to quote the last of his sentence. “I just think he's squeamish“ Arthur comments. You shake your head and sigh as your hands clasp. “So, she must be where they left her after she was taken from here“ you say, thinking out loud. Arthur nods “uh huh. Right at the morgue.” You feel the need to $habit but maintain composure. <hr>\ * [[“Explain to me what has been done to protect people from the woods.”->Page 192BB]] * [[You don't care to continue this.->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> “Sally told me nothing has happened which frankly seems astounding and wildly irresponsible for the authorities“ you remonstrate. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur looks up and then seems to nod to himself and then looks down and nods at you. “Of course you're right Miss Crown. Teenagers won't just listen to some people telling them 'no.' But it's a lot of pressure, I feel bad for the mayor.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur looks up and then seems to nod to himself and then looks down and nods at you. “Of course you're right Mister Crown. Teenagers won't just listen to some people telling them 'no.' But it's a lot of pressure, I feel bad for the mayor.”<</if>> You snort and look away at the trees over Arthur's shoulder. “You feel sorry for a man who has all the power to do something and just hides away? Ok“ you reply coolly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He looks dismayed and wrangles his hands. “Sorry Miss Crown. You're right of course. I just feel bad for everyone in this town, this stuff doesn't happen here.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He looks dismayed and wrangles his hands. “Sorry Mister Crown. You're right of course. I just feel bad for everyone in this town, this stuff doesn't happen here.”<</if>> Your eyes flick from the trees to Arthur's sad eyes and you answer “it does happen here but people have been too careless to notice. You're partially right too though. The bodies don't happen here.” Arthur shakes his head vigorously, his look of sadness replaced by urgency “no no I'm not, you are because all this does happen here. I guess I'm trying to say that after the first girl was found the mayor didn't think another would be, that's why I feel bad.” [[NEXT->Page 193B]] </h3>

<h3> “Oh wow,” Arthur says while offering you an odd look. You wrinkle your nose “what the hell does that mean?” your fingers marginally curl and dig into the fabric of your clothes. Arthur eyes quickly fall to your hands and shoot up to your increasingly annoyed face “oh it doesn't mean anything! I didn't mean to offend you!“ he says anxiously and takes off his chauffeur's cap. “I guess the question surprised me.” You sigh in such a way that conveys to him your irritation with his answer. “Just answer the fucking question.” Arthur folds the cap between his holds, creating creases in the previously unblemished fabric. You see a glint of drop of sweat on his forehead. You clench your jaw and screw up your eyes, “any day now.” You pretend you don't want to be heard when you add in a whisper, “moron.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur looks down at his shoes “no Miss Crown, Stephanie Burrows hasn't been laid down to rest. Mr. Salvatore being who he is would've received a call to go and then gone to support Mr. Wisteria and the rest of his family.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur looks down at his shoes “no Mister Crown, Stephanie Burrows hasn't been laid down to rest. Mr. Salvatore being who he is would've received a call to go and then gone to support Mr. Wisteria and the rest of his family.”<</if>> You wait for Arthur to continue but his eyes remain on his shoes and you clap loudly “hey! Earth to Arthur. I didn't ask for some suspense here. Why is she still not in the cemetery?” Arthur doesn't look up but he does swallow thickly “she's not there because Father Simmons refuses to perform the ceremony that the family being religious want. He apparently said that he can't give sacred rites to something 'unholy and risk blackening his soul.'“ You roll your eyes. Priests are so dramatic. You purse your lips as you look Arthur's face up and down “her ass is at the morgue, isn't it?” Arthur nods once, his mouth set in a pout. “Damn,” is all you say. <hr>\ * [[“So is anyone in this town competent?”->Page 192CC]] * [[You're so bored.->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> “For fuck's sake this girl was chewed on like a dog's squeaky toy but no one has done shit to stop another girl being the new shiny replacement,” you snark disdainfully. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>At that Arthur looks up at you and his face looks uncharacteristically serious, “that is a very grim picture Miss Crown. That poor girl. Just like you, her family must be angry too. Such an unfortunate accident.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>At that Arthur looks up at you and his face looks uncharacteristically serious, “that is a very grim picture Mister Crown. That poor girl. Just like you, her family must be angry too. Such an unfortunate accident.”<</if>> You snort derisively and cross your arms, “is that what they call eating people now? Why does everyone in this fucking place act so fucking weird. Acting like she accidentally tripped into a woodcutter.” Arthur merely shrugs, “I've never been that far outside the town, I haven't seen how other people are. You give him a look, your mind conjuring up all kinds of words to say to him, each more cutting than the last. Finding the rhythm in meanness can be so quick and you take to it so naturally. But it'd be stupid to make an enemy. You opt to say “you're a regular hick aren't you?” One side of Arthur's mouth turns up “I prefer townie.” He pulls his cap lower on his head and says “when it happens once you can say a woodcutter but twice? That's a scary pattern.” [[NEXT->Page 193C]] </h3>

<h3> <center>❖</center> You thought of coming here on Monday after school but you had an essay for History about the law banning marriage between humans and 'other types of beings' that was enacted in the 1880s.<<audio "investigation" stop>> Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were the same. You had never been the top of your class but it'll only give you more problems if you fail. Finally today you hurried out of school the moment the bell rang and elbowed your way through the group of students throughout the hall to be the first out the doors. You speed walked across town and past town hall to reach the building behind and across the street from it. You stop to catch your breath and relieve your legs as you look up at the sign. You pull open the glass door and step into the bright foyer. A smell of disinfectant and cool air penetrate your senses when you walk up the reception desk. An older woman with poorly dyed frizzy red hair, gray roots and crow's feet by her eyes adds a stripe of green nail polish to her long and yellowed thumb. She doesn't glance up at you. You read her name tag. “Ms. Winterop,” you say. The woman sitting at the desk adds another delicate stripe to her nail, her mouth a tad bit ajar as she concentrates. The stripe is straight and doesn't coat her skin. “What is it?” You notice that her pink lipstick has stained her two front teeth. “I was wondering if I could see Miss Stephanie Burrows' body.” Ms. Winterop had poised the nail brush towards her finger when you said that and she stops to instead look up. She gives you a blank stare, “with what authority? You're just a kid. Don't look a day over fourteen.” You bristle at her comment. Sure a lack of good nutrition, experimental drugs, seemingly no ability to develop significant muscle mass and lack of vitamin D does give you the appearance of a dying Victorian child but that doesn't mean you look like an elementary schooler. Your hundred yard stare can attest to that. “I just need to see her,” you say. “It'll only be for a few minutes.” Ms. Winterop places the nail brush back into the nail polish and makes sure to carefully place her painted fingernails apart on the desk. “Unless you're a cop who's extremely young for $hisher age I'm not letting you a foot past this desk.” You give her an impassive look and turn your back to her. Walking a few slow steps towards the glass doors. What do you do? <hr>\ <<if $money>>\ * [[Bribe her with Mr. Ewekes' money]] <<elseif $Tmoney>>\ * [[Bribe her with Tina's money]] <</if>>\ * [[Lie.->Page 196]] * [[Use your family.->Page 196B]] * [[Pretend to be sick.->Page 196C]] </h3>

<h3> You thought people only gasped out in shock in movies but you let out a small little noise and swiftly ask “there was someone else before Stephanie? Another girl?” “Yeah in June I think. Actually around the time of the fair, she interrupted that whole thing and they shut it down“ he says. The muscles in your cheeks ache as your smile extends, you don't know why this delights you so much. “Do you know who she was?” Oddly enough he doesn't seem to care that you look so excited for such a morbid topic and he responds almost giddy “Candace Fitzgerald, the daughter of one of your father's friends or at least that's what everyone whispers.” That name does sound familiar. She must've been the ones you would see during the never-ending circuit of parties you were shuffled to between all the prominent families. You lick your bottom smiling lip. Now you're getting somewhere. You clasp your hands to your chest like in a prayer and ask “how did it happen? Was it just like Stephanie?” “Are you sure you want to know? It's kind of messed up“ Arthur says with uncertainty. You nod your head briskly. Arthur sits on the hood of the car and pats the spot next to him, you comply. You lay elbows on your thighs and cup your face like a curious child. Arthur clears his throat and ''[[begins.]]'' </h3>

<h3> Your heart hammers in your chest and you try to keep your voice levelled when you ask, “there was another one before Stephanie?” “Yep about a few months before her. It's what got the fair shut early this year“ he replies. You inhale deeply, a jolt of something courses through your back and you don't know what kind of excitement it is. “Do you know anything about her?” Arthur gets a concentrated look, his eyes are on you but he doesn't seem to be seeing you, “Candace...something“ he stops and pinches his lower lip between his fingers “Candace, Candace, um.” He sighs and lets up his hand as if to say 'I don't know.' You roll your lips as your excitement deflates and a cold irritation takes its place “she was found like Stephanie then? Naked and mutilated?” “I'm not sure I wasn't there to see it and everyone who was says different things,” Arthur responds. You examine his face, he looks calm enough. His eyes blink at you, his mouth is closed but not firmly as if to say he's clamming up about something. His posture seems loose. He doesn't look like he's lying. And yet. Maybe being such a cold <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>bitch wasn't the best play here.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>bastard wasn't the best play here.<</if>> “Nothing else?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He shakes his head and reverts back to the way he was when you first came up to him, a chipper smile “I'm sorry Miss Crown. Can I ask you why you're asking me all this?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He shakes his head and reverts back to the way he was when you first came up to him, a chipper smile “I'm sorry Mister Crown. Can I ask you why you're asking me all this?”<</if>> You respond with an apathetic gaze as your mind is divided up between telling him or not. If you do, is there really any harm? He's your family's chauffeur, he's been loyal for years. Of course, you could not say anything as a good detective would. <hr>\ * [[“I've been looking into the disappearances.”->Page 194B]] * [[“It's none of your business.”->Page 194BB]] </h3>

<h3> Your mouth stretches open in a vicious grin when you hear those words and a haughty tone colours your words when you respond, “so there's the true original woodcutter victim then?” “From what I saw at the fair that night I would say she does have something in common with Miss Burrows,” he says with an uncomfortable expression on his face. Arthur's giving you a strange look, he must find it odd how... exhilarated you seem to be with this information. As if he could ever understand. “So like word for word, bite mark for bite mark?” Arthur doesn't laugh and looks down at his hands. He moves his thumbs around for no apparent reason apart from avoiding eye contact with you. “Something like that. I don't...” he trails off. You roll your eyes. Great, he either doesn't want to tell you or finds the topic too unpleasant. Maybe you should've been kinder. You set your shoulders back and clear your throat, “look can you just tell me who her family is?” “I think she belonged to one of the rich families. Mr. and Mrs. Crown's type of friends. But I can't be sure,” he says. You've never seen him like this. Shy, uncomfortable and with a mouth pressed so tightly closed that it's losing its pink colour. His shoulders seem higher than they should be and he's voluntarily not making eye contact with you. Is he lying? Is omitting information a lie? Or you're just being too suspicious. Maybe he's queasy. If you flip your tune now he'll just find it more suspicious and probably tell Sally, if you won't already. You wonder if this is how he's acted when your parents treat him badly. “You really aren't going to tell me shit? Why the hell are you paid for then if you're going to be a useless sack of shit?” you spit. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur shakes his head and mumbles, “can I be excused Miss Crown? I have work to attend to.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur shakes his head and mumbles, “can I be excused Mister Crown? I have work to attend to.”<</if>> He doesn't wait for you to answer him as he walks past you into the house, even so you call after him over your shoulder “be-my-fucking-guest.” Arthur 1, $name 0. You want to kick yourself. [[NEXT->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> Arthur looks surprised, “you are?” you nod an affirmative and he asks “why?” You shrug one shoulder “why not? Basic human empathy should be a good enough excuse.” Arthur still doesn't look convinced but he does say “Fitzgerald.” “What?” “That's Candace's last name. Fitzgerald“ he replies. Before you can ask anymore he says “excuse me, I came to the manor to get Mrs. Phillips for the grocery shoppin'.” He walks past you, into the house. You let him go without a parting. He'll probably tell Sally that you're asking questions about this but at least you got some information. [[NEXT->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur touches his cap and bends his head somewhat to you “I'm sorry I asked. I don't want to intrude in your personal life Miss Crown.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur touches his cap and bends his head somewhat to you “I'm sorry I asked. I don't want to intrude in your personal life Mister Crown.”<</if>> You merely hum. Arthur's head and therefore his gaze remain downward as he says “I have to run an errand. If you need anything else, you can find me in the kitchen for now.” Your eyes follow him as he slips past you, up the stairs and into the house, leaving one of the doors slightly ajar. Your evasiveness surely made him suspicious and you expect Sally to deliver a stern lecture to you no later than today. Oh, well. [[NEXT->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> //June 20th 1994// //It was unreasonably warm that night. In the town even summers have a bit of bite to them. But not tonight. It seemed as if the wind had been burned to a crisp and no longer had the capacity to chill the bones of its regular victims. Joyful screams pierce the night seemingly coming from all directions as the sounds of children and adults mixed together to bounce off the buildings on Main Street. As every year, that section of town had been closed off to cars and streetlights had maintained an unmoving red for hours. People of all kinds walk along the streets, spilling from the sidewalk. Owners of the brick and mortar buildings had closed up their stores and conduct their business outside. Kids run along the attractions with sticky faces and even dirtier hands. Adults stroll along, the summer air giving the older generations the need to admire in a slow fashion everything around them. It was a mist of sleep drought for those that weren't going on the rides. Arthur, the family chauffeur had spent the last half hour leaning on the cotton candy cart, a smile on his face reserved for the girl who was manning the cart. She had been answering all his questions with a professional attitude that showed no interest beyond that of customer service. Arthur wasn't the most perceptive man in normal circumstances, even worse now when he and everyone else at the fair seemed to be under the spell of warm weather. That's why they hadn't even noticed her. She was walking slowly, her body jerking up and down, a wet sound following her steps. A distracted child elbowed her side and had the mind to slow down and turn back. His eyes open wide and he lets out a scream before running away to find his mother. The girl trudged on, passing the seated couples on the temporary benches by the merchandise area of the fair. Laboured gasps burst out in low pitches from beneath the long damp strands covering her face. Imre Duran was sitting at a big round table, surrounded by his friends and every once and while eating a curly fry from his tray. The table didn't have an end to indicate the head of seat but everyone knew Imre was the most important person at the table. Always and forever next to him was Nia Mir. She had been laughing at the appropriate times in Imre's story. She was so good at this that only Imre could tell when she was faking it or not. As her best friend neared to the spectacular end of his tale without thought she looks at the space around her. She's looking without truly seeing and passes over Lorcan Stark who's leaning against the dark window shop of the taxidermy place. A lit cigarette plopped in his mouth. His eyes are watching the scenes in front of him which is how he's the first to notice the ''[[girl.]]''// </h3>

<h3>//His face pales at the sight of her naked body. Her pale skin nearly invisible under the grim, dirt, sweat and blood. Rivulets of scarlet red travel down her arms and her legs and he doesn't know where to look for a wound that seems to be everywhere. A burst of laughter makes him look towards Imre's table with the aforementioned boy having just finished his long rendition. Nia smiles and opens her mouth to say something to her performing friend when she catches sight of what Lorcan sees. She quickly grips Imre's arm and he stops mid-sentence from answering a question one of his subjects asked him to ask Nia what was wrong. The girl jerks her head in front of her and the boy follows her gaze. The limping girl slows down her walking until she's just a few paces ahead of the table. A trail of thick blood has followed behind her. The blood seeping from her drops around her feet, creating a growing puddle. The shrieking laughter, the haze of lethargy, the hot climate all cease as if someone had switched off a knob. Arthur was in the midst of asking the cotton candy girl for her number when she dropped the popsicle stick in her hand. Her eyes wide and frightened at something over Arthur's shoulder. He turns around at that moment to see what everyone else is now looking at. His eyes begin at the crown of her head, her blonde hair is matted in clumps against her skull. Splashes of red staining the yellow colouring. Her back is adorned with marks, some long gashes that run down her body and smaller wounds that look like grotesque bite marks. Smaller scratches glisten in the light of the streetlights on her legs and when his eyes finally land on her foot he presses a hand against his mouth to prevent bile from coming up. Her left leg is straight and planted against the concrete. Wounded, yes, but intact. Her right leg is bent and at the bottom where there should be a foot is just a mangled sopping torn mess of skin. The blunt end to her leg is balanced on a pearly white bone, it scraping against the ground as the girl tries to keep upright. The skin flaps created by the tearing of her foot move in the chilly air that dances into Main Street. Later on, when all the town residents are in their homes, relating the story to those who were there and weren't they'll say that when she lifted up her face and the strands of blonde hair parted she tried to speak but her mouth was gurgling on the blood that had seeped from the hole of her eye socket. No one had noticed that she had maintained a firm clutch of her midsection before she fell forward flat on her face, dead.// [[NEXT->Page 194A]] </h3>

<h3> “...she was cremated a few days after that. Just like Stephanie Burrows, there was no mention of her in the papers before she showed at the fair. Some people did say that they swore her picture had been up at the police station with all the other missing persons pages,” Arthur concludes. You hadn't noticed at what point you had covered your mouth but you drop your hands and let your arms dangle off your knees. No one had mentioned this to you. Imre, Nia, Lorcan were all there and they all saw this and no one thought to tell you. You flex your fingers and store these thoughts in regards to those three away for a bit. “Wow, that all sounds horrific. Poor girl,” you lament. You had been so excited to finally get new info all by yourself that you hadn't thought about how truly awful all this is. “No serious or prolonged investigation was made into her death either,” you state, knowing how little police work went into Stephanie's case. “Yep,” Arthur answers. “It was like it never happened.” You look down at your hands and clasp them tightly together, your bones cracking in your fingers. You feel the car lift as Arthur gets off the hood. “Sorry to leave you after that story but I did need to come to the house for a work related thing“ he explains and bids you goodbye. You hear his shoes against the dirt for a few seconds before he calls out “oh forgot to tell you “ you look up from your hands and turn your head to see him by the doors. “I swear I once saw Candance with Lorcan around town like a few weeks before the fair. Didn't know they were friends but she knew the late Miss Orla so it makes sense“ he says and goes inside. You watch the closed double doors of the manor. Your mind racing with questions and an idea. [[NEXT->Page 195]] </h3>

<h3> “You don't understand,” you pitch your voice at a higher tone than normal and squint your eyes “my best friend... she died and they haven't buried and I don't know when they will and I want to say goodbye I want closure.” You pinch your eyes in closely as you try to will out tears that won't come. Ms. Winterop's expression doesn't change an inch from the boredom she has shown you since you got here. “Who's the girl?” she asks neutrally. You cover your mouth and breath in through your eyes in fits and starts to try to get the sniffling effect. “Do you know the girl who was found at the Crown property a few weeks ago?” Ms. Winterop blinks and unscrews the cap of the nail polish, setting about putting another stripe of paint on the fingernail she was working on before you interrupted her. Undeterred you lower your eyes and cover your mouth, small muffled sobs pressing against your hand. Hopefully she won't look closer to your eyes to find how dry they truly are. “I heard a thing or two. I don't pay much mind to the problems of the blessed ones in this town,“ she says with a sarcastically disgusted tone. “I pride myself on not even knowing what they look like.” You want to roll your eyes. She sounds like Lorcan. You shake your shoulders. “In other circumstances I wouldn't care about what happened to any of them“ she continues, moving the nail brush onto the next fingernail “but that girl and the one they found before her don't deserve that.” You lift your eyes at that and tsks as a drop of green polish touches her finger “be quick and make sure no one sees you because I'm not vouching for you.” You wipe at your cheeks and go turn right down the hall to a set of white double doors.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Don't be a freak and take a thumb or something because I'll call the police,” Ms. Winterop's words reach you as you slip behind one of them. [[NEXT->Page 197]] </h3>

<h3> You lay your arms on the counter and clasp your hands, leaning your torso on it and smirking sweetly at Ms. Winterop. She stares at you robotically and moves her hand over to the nail polish. “Do you know who I am?” you ask pompously. She doesn't answer you and you continue, “my name is $name Crown, my father is Victor Crown, my mother is Prudence Crown and my ancestor founded this town.” Ms. Winterop's face doesn't budge an inch, her eyes slowly blink at you as if you were explaining math to her. Your smirk drops and your eyes bore into her “since you clearly aren't stupid or else you wouldn't be working here I'm guessing you understand how important my family is and how it's in your best interest to let me pass.” Ms. Winterop turns away from you and goes back to painting her nails. Your hands squeeze each other and you feel a sense of indignation you haven't quite felt before. “Hey!“ you say and press the silver bell on the counter “did you not hear―“ she quickly takes away the bell from your reach. “I heard you perfectly well $name Crown“ she answers without looking up from her nails “I just don't care.” You unclasp your hands and dig your fingernails into the laminate countertop. “You will care when one word from me gets you fired“ you counter, voice dripping with the type of venom that runs in your family. You turn on your heel and saunter out of the hospital, grating your teeth as you stop in front of the doors. The chilly air of autumn is more unwelcoming than usual. You stop and stand there, looking at city hall across the street. Now what? You can't just stand here and wait for a miracle. Your eyes flick to a phonebooth on a patch of grass by the sidewalk. Nia has volunteered at the hospital since freshman year. Her father works here. If anyone can get you in it's her. But... it's Nia. She might not do it. She might not even be home. You take a step forward. Go right to the phone booth or go left to go home? <hr>\ * [[Go right.->Call]] * [[Go left]] </h3>

<h3> You lurch against the receptionist's desk and lay your forehead against it, throwing your arm over your head. You let out a fit of pants, it's a nice touch. “Hey, kid?” Ms. Winterop asks, you hear the squeaking of her chair. Without a second of hesitation you stick your finger deep into your throat and feel the protesting flips of your stomach, your throat making raspy noises as you feel the acid taste of vomit. Your eyes sting as vomit shoots up and into your mouth, cascading down your chin and splattering onto the floor. You hear Ms. Winterop curses as she throws an arm around your waist. The bile keeps coming as Ms. Winterop tries to maintain you upright. You choke as that mess clogs your throat. “Nurse Reddock!“ You hear a series of footsteps and someone grips your shoulder. The stream of vomit ends but you keep gagging as your stomach keeps trying to empty itself out. Between Ms. Winterop and Nurse Reddock you're guided into one of the rooms down the hall. You're helped onto a hospital and you lean on your side, eyes closed and clutching your stomach. A woman's voice — presumably Nurse Raddock — questions Ms. Winterop by your bed. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Come“ that same woman says and Ms. Winterop's voice gets further away. You lift your head up and see that you've been left alone. You sigh and press your eyes closed. You wipe your mouth and keep your arm around your stomach as you sit up. You need to move quickly. You hop off the bed and peer from behind the door frame. You see down the hall to the main desk as Ms. Winterop goes behind it while still speaking to Nurse Raddock. You slip out of the room and open the double doors down the hall, letting out a breath of relief when it doesn't make a noise. [[NEXT->Page 197]] </h3>

<h3> You stick your hand into one of the pockets of your $holder and pull out a crumpled fifty. You slap it on the counter with all the authority a bribe conveys on your face. You expect Ms. Winterop to at least look interested but your poor bill curls up at the edges and your act of persuasion loses its impact as you hasten to smooth down the edges. You grab a pencil holder to hold one end of the bill and bend forward, reach down and take a small pink stapler for the other end. Completely unimpressed Ms. Winterop's eyes travel down to the bill and she makes a chewing action with her mouth. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Ok. Twenty minutes, the morgue is done on the lowest and unless you can find some scrubs try not to be seen because if they catch you I don't know you“ she says while slipping the bill from under your makeshift holders and into her bra. You quickly smile and go turn right down the hall to a set of white double doors. “Don't be a freak and take a thumb or something because I'll call the police,“ Ms. Winterop's words reach you as you slip behind one of them. [[NEXT->Page 197]] </h3>

<h3> You reach into your $holder and push around your books and pencils until your fingers touch a small baggie and you lay it on the counter. Despite being in an airtight environment the smell is still incredibly strong. Damn Tina. “Is that a new type of marijuana?” Ms. Winterop says with a wrinkled nose. “Do you want it to be?” you ask with a smirk. She shakes her head and mutters something before slowly pushing the baggie away from her. “Get out before I call security.” You open your mouth to protest but she lays a thick hand on the telephone by the visitor's check-in book. You close your $holder, hoist it up on your shoulder and leave the hospital. The chilly air of autumn is more unwelcoming than usual. You stop and stand there, looking at city hall across the street. Now what? You can't just stand here and wait for a miracle. Your eyes flick to a phonebooth on a patch of grass by the sidewalk. Nia has volunteered at the hospital since freshman year. Her father works here. If anyone can get you in it's her. But... it's Nia. She might not do it. She might not even be home. You take a step forward. Go right to the phone booth or go left to go home? <hr>\ * [[Go right.->Call]] * [[Go left]] </h3>

<h3> The hallway you enter looks identical to the one you left. You squint at the words written on the panels at the end of both ends of the hall. You quickly speed walk towards one that says that level 0 is on the right. Thankfully, the rooms you pass are all closed, you see patients in their beds, mostly sleeping and some speaking with visitors. Before you reach the end of the hall a nurse walks into the hall. You almost halt as you both walk towards each other. The nurse, however, doesn't look up from their clipboard. Right, the problem isn't this part of the hospital. They'll think you're here for someone. After following the directions on the wall you find yourself in another identical hall with cold fluorescent that makes your eyes strain. The smell of harsh chemicals used on the linoleum floors doesn't give a sense of welcome either. Years spent in hospitals might've left you with some emotional scars. At the end of the hall on the left hand side a set of gray double doors lead towards a flight of stairs. As you hurry down them, the air around you gets colder either due to the controlled climate needed for this lower level, the fact that this part of the hospital is underground or just the materials used to build this hospital don't inspire warmth. As you land on the last step of the stairs the door to the basement level opens and out walks a doctor looking at his wristwatch. He looks up as he reaches the stairs and looks startled to see you there. “Excuse me, but what business do you have at this level of the hospital?” he asks in a stern voice. Your mind goes blank before the last word leaves his lips. Your lips press together as your heart jackhammers in your chest. “Well?” the man raises his bushy eyebrows at you. [[NEXT->Page 198]] </h3>

<h3> A heavy burden of failure hung down your shoulders as you dragged your feet home. You can't seem to get anywhere. You'd think about all you've been through you wouldn't be so naive to believe it would be that easy for you to do things. You walk through town so lost in your thoughts of next steps, theories and pieces of information you've gathered that you walk slower than you would if you weren't so preoccupied. <<set $hospitalfail to true>> You don't even bristle at the eyes that follow you from the residents of the town who seem to never quite not notice you. At one point you cross the street without looking and car a nearly runs over you. The driver honks at you and rolls down their window to hurl some colorful insults at you before speeding off as you unblock their path. Your hands swaying listlessly at your sides, gaze down and brows furrowed you end up arriving home far later than you should've. You can tell because Sally's car is parked in front of the house. [[NEXT->Page 207]] </h3>

<h3> You use your head to keep the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you rummage in your $holder for spare change. As you're inserting coins in the slot you go through your memories trying to see if Nia's number remains etched somewhere in your mind. <<set $niacall to true>> And of course it does. You look at the hospital as the phone rings in your ear. It takes about twenty seconds before someone picks up. “Hello, Mir residence, who is calling?” a female voice asks from the other end. “Hello, it's $name Crown. I'm wondering if Miss Mir is at home?” you say formally. The lady tells you to hold the line and you wait again, your leg bouncing in slight impatience. You hear a crackling on the line, from someone picking up the handset. No one speaks for a moment to the point where you take the phone away from your ear. “What is it?” she says. She doesn't say it coldly. She doesn't say it warmly. Her voice as if she were answering a question from a stranger. Which isn't far off from what you two are now. “I need to get into the morgue,” you reply, using the same monotone inflection. She doesn't say anything. Then you hear the line go dead with the dial tone. You growl underneath your breath and slam the handset on the stand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck“ you say heatedly as you push open the plastic door to the phone booth and step on the sidewalk. You look around you trying to decide what to do, eventually you opt to sit down on the pavement, your arms crossed over your knees and your chin laying on top them. You don't know how long you stayed like that but the objects around started darkening as the sun began to make its descent. [[NEXT->Page 197B]] </h3>

<h3> “Are we going inside or not?” You look up from the pavement to see Nia standing across the street next to a black limousine. She throws his hair over her shoulder and struts across the street, not towards you but the hospital. You hastily get up and follow her. Her steps are long and so you don't manage to catch up to her before she's already pulling the door open. She doesn't hold it open for you. You pull it open and she's already at the counter talking to Ms. Winterop. You don't have time to hear what Nia says to the receptionist. Nia turns her heeled feet to the right of the hall, clipping on a nametag as she goes along. You jog to reach her side and her eyes don't stray from the space in front of her. “Down this hall turn right, go down it until you see a set of gray double doors, that's the stairwell. Just go down.” You both stop when you get to where you're supposed to turn right. You look down the hall to where Nia said for you to go and at that moment you see a doctor coming out from the gray double doors. The doctor sees you and then Nia. He smiles at her, his aim directly going for her. You look at Nia and her eyes are intently on the doctor. There's a small grimace on her face. Her eyes finally meet yours. “I'll keep him busy. Try not to get caught“ she whispers. <hr>\ * [[“Thank you.”->Page 198*]] * [[You walk away.]] * [[You feel like reaching out and touching her.]] </h3>

<h3> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“She's with me,” a voice says from behind you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“He's with me,” a voice says from behind you.<</if>> You try not to show any reaction as footsteps sound on the steps. She walks down next to you. From your peripheral you can see the green scrubs on her statuesque frame. Her hair tied up in a perfect bun. The doctor's expression changes when he looks upon Nia, a smile wrinkling the edges of his eyes,“ Miss Mir, I didn't know you were volunteering today.” “Well I am. And I brought my fr— I brought someone to help,“ Nia answers, a calm tone to her voice. “With all due respect Miss Mir but you should've have been informed—“ the doctor begins to say. “No one. I feel like I don't need to bring up my father, I can say that the years I've worked here give me some form of sound judgement,” Nia interrupts, bending her knee. The doctor looks from her to you as if asking you to intercede on his behalf, when he finds you tightlipped he says, “I wasn't trying to suggest that—“ “Furthermore, two sets of hands clearly are more efficient than one especially with how short staffed we are, don't you agree Doctor Forester?” Nia continues without paying mind to anything the doctor has been trying to say. Doctor Forester laughs nervously and claps his hands for no reason, “yes, yes you're right Miss Mir. This is an excellent idea. We do need more help here. Now if you'll excuse me it's my break time.” He squeezes past you both and hurries up the stairs. You wait until you hear the doors from a level further up the stairs to look at Nia. Her eyes are looking up the stairs, a bored expression on her face. You don't think she'll say anything to you. It's a habit of hers by now. You step down on the floor on the first level and pull on the handle of the door. You hear slow steps going up the stairs. “I'll try to keep any nurses and doctors away, make it quick. Gossip travels fast in this place,“ Nia says when she's out of sight, her voice echoing in the stairwell. <hr>\ * [[“Thank you so much!”->Page 199]] * [[“Fine!“]] * [[You don't answer her.]] </h3>

<h3> You search her face after saying those two words. Her eyes don't blink as they look into yours. They give nothing away but for the first time you feel like she's really looking at you even though her eyes don't look any different, her mouth remains closed. Her gaze flicks to the doctor and her cheek bones lift to create a small and plastic smile. You don't say anymore as the doctor is now within earshot. You bypass him as he asks Nia how she's doing. Their voices follow you down the hall and before you push open the gray double doors you can't help but look at her one last time. She stands in the middle of the hall, eyes focused on the doctor who sounds more animated than she looks. Your eyes trail down her body, till you reach her hand that flexes forward. A 'shooing' motion. You obey and push into the stairwell. As you hurry down the steps, the air around you gets colder either due to the controlled climate needed for this lower level, the fact that this part of the hospital is underground or just the materials used to build this hospital don't inspire warmth. You land on the floor and pull open the white door, as you step into this hall, you guide the door gently and noiselessly into its closed position. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3> She doesn't stop you. You pass the doctor who gives you a questioning look but Nia stops him from saying anything to you. “Doctor Forester, how's patient 486? Is he still vomiting?” Their voices follow you down the hall and before you push open the gray double doors and you do stop and look at her one last time. She stands in the middle of the hall, eyes focused on the doctor who sounds more animated than she looks. Why did you walk away? She came to the hospital to help you. Of course it's the least she could do. Perhaps you think you don't own her anything after the way she's been treating you. Or, you simply don't know what to say to her anymore. You step into the stairwell. As you hurry down the steps, the air around you gets colder either due to the controlled climate needed for this lower level, the fact that this part of the hospital is underground or just the materials used to build this hospital don't inspire warmth. You land on the floor and pull open the white door, as you step into this hall, you guide the door gently and noiselessly into its closed position. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3> Your fingers almost spasm as they stretch to touch the soft fabric of her skirt. Her eyes glance down at your hand and she watches as your fingers try to bridge the gap between your leg and hers. Her eyes look into your face and you mirror her. Neither of your faces give anything away. But the knowing of your hand between you two is enough to make your body warm. The cold air of the hospital merely touches the rising heat of your skin but not penetrating it. Her dark brown eyes bore into you, like she's trying to push past your eyes into the brain. A look at one glance seemingly showing the same default expression of nonchalance she always has. But for you, you who truly know her to your core, can see an inch of something. The tip of the mountain that is the entire being of Nia Cyra Mir. Your fingers jerk back when the sensitive tips touch the fabric of her clothes. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Two girls so different but maybe able to communicate in that way only girls can without words and as if time hasn't passed.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> A boy and a girl. Women have always seemed such a mystery to you. An unknowable group. Maybe some more than others.<</if>> “Miss Mir!“ the doctor yells and like a splash of cold water you two move apart, you down the hall to your right and Nia to face the doctor who completely ignores you as you pass him. Their voices follow you down the hall, and when you reach the double gray doors you push through, not feeling up to looking at her now. As you hurry down the steps, the air around you gets colder either due to the controlled climate needed for this lower level, the fact that this part of the hospital is underground or just the materials used to build this hospital don't inspire warmth. You land on the floor and pull open the white door, as you step into this hall, you guide the door gently and noiselessly into its closed position. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3> Your words echo up and down and all around the stairwell. You hear a door creak open from the level above you and pause. You two are both at the same position, a floor apart. You can't see her but you can feel her, it perfectly represents this stage of not knowing. Although can she truly not see you any better than you can see her? She stays like that with you for a few moments and then you hear some steps sounding off in the stairwell and then receding as the door creaks loudly to a close. You allow yourself to exhale loudly. You walk into the hall and gently close the door behind you, this door not as loud as the other one above you. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3> That one singular and definite word sounds as strong and deafening as a bell. It doesn't help that his stairwell carries echoes. You hear a door creak open from the level above you and pause. You two are both at the same position, a floor apart. You can't see her but you can feel her, it perfectly represents this stage of not knowing. Although can she truly not see you any better than you can see her? This also makes you think of another question, have you been judging too hard, are you two being idiots? But... this could also be nothing at all. Negative or positive feelings and how to deal with her aside, this isn't the time or place. You hear some steps sounding off in the stairwell and then receding as the door creaks loudly to a close. You clench your jaw. You walk into the hall and gently close the door behind you, this door not as loud as the other one above you. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3> You know how they say silence can be deafening? Your lack of response is thick and makes itself known in the air in the stairwell. It could've been less awkward if you screamed. You hear her open the door above you and then the receding steps before the door shuts loudly behind her. That could be Nia being Nia or like you she can't or won't answer. Would you answer someone who doesn't speak back to you? Why is everything so complicated now? You roll your neck from side to side and step into the basement hallway. Slowly closing the door behind you. [[NEXT->Page 200]] </h3>

<h3>Your steps sound loud in the poorly illuminated dank corridor of the basement floor. Here there aren't fluorescent lights, merely dangling yellow tinted light bulbs that swing slowly. <<audio "creep1" loop play>> Your breath materialized in a ghostly mist from your lips, every pore of your body sucking in the cold air that for someone used to being chilly as Croun is mostly dreary it still makes you shiver. You tuck your hands into your armpits and take deliberately measured steps along the hall. You peek into the small windows of closed doors that a few times only reflect darkness back at you. The dust along the walls and at your feet give the air around you a closed off quality to it. Like there's less oxygen here. Well, it's not like the dead need to breathe. Some rooms do allow the flickering light bulbs to penetrate some of their darkness. It's all old boxes and files that have so much grime on them that no one has entered these rooms in years. You sniff tobacco in the air and find a collection of stubbed filters behind a cart. This is what the doctor must've been doing. You stop in front of a room that has the words 'MORGUE' in red painting above its white doors. The handle is freezing to the touch when you twist it open. Your torso violently shivers as the temperature drops even more. You blow into your hands and rub them briskly. The room itself has a bluish tint from a circular ceiling light that through its opaque material you can see dead insects sprinkled around its centre. In the middle of the room there's an autopsy table, clear and clean. Its surface is wet. Covering nearly the entire room are square drawers, big steel compartments with latches at the top and small little labels written in pen just below. [[NEXT->Page 201]] </h3>

<h3>You peer at the labels of each drawer, names of those laying in there marked by initials. You spot one that says S.B. (1) and begin to move to it when you see another one marked S.B. (2) and below that one a S.B. (3). Your eyes squint as you try to decide which one is Stephanie. You move your eyes along the room to see if there's any files nearby but all you see are tiles, steel and porcelain. The stench of chemicals more strong than ever. You look at a clock above a telephone hanging from the wall. You don't have to contemplate, someone will come down here sooner or later and you need to get home before your brother has a fit. <hr>\ * [[Pick option one.]] * [[Pick option two.->Page 202]] * [[Pick option three.]] </h3>

<h3> You drag a small stool leaning on the wall next to the drawer for S.B. (1) and unlatch it. <<if $sbthree>> The drawer slides easily out and at the height of your chest there's another body, covered identical to the young man's.<<elseif not $sbthree>> The drawer slides easily out and at the height of your chest there's another the shape of a body with a plain white sheet over it.<</if>> The tip of their nose is the only thing that stands out from beneath their covering. Your fingers rise to the top of their head and you grasp the thin sheet, pulling it down to the body's shoulders. <<set $sbone to true>> The face that you gaze upon is a man, middle-aged, his short hair a series of black and gray strands. The stubble on his chin and cheeks is patchy in some places. His eyes are sunken into his sockets and there's a spot of dried blood near his ear. Even though dead bodies don't have any voluntary expression on their face, you can't help but think he looks pissed off. Possibly thinking that being dead has really ruined his plans. S.B. (1). Maybe you once crossed eyes with him. <<if $sbthree>>The footsteps are near the door of the morgue and you quickly push the slab closed and scurry to the other side of the autopsy table, blocking your view of the door and hopefully hiding you from whoever it is. [[NEXT->Page 203]]\ <<elseif not $sbthree>>The ticking of the clock reminds you that you need to hurry. You push the drawer closed and latch it again. If the time is correct you've been staring at that body for five minutes. You hear some footsteps far off, sounding closer than they would be if they came from the stairs. Seems like someone is down the hall. Looks like you only have time for one more. <hr>\ * [[Pick option two.->Page 202]] * [[Pick option three.]] \<</if>> </h3>

<h3> You kneel by the floor and unlatch S.B. (3), pulling it out. <<if $sbone>> As S.B. (1), this person is also laying unidentifiable beneath a white sheet with nothing out of the ordinary in their outline.<<elseif not $sbone>>By your stomach lies the corpse of a person unidentifiable beneath the white thin sheet that covers them. <</if>> <<if $sbone>> The footsteps come quicker than before, impulsively you grab the sheet from around their chest and pull it down.<<elseif not $sbone>> You use your forefinger and thumb to pinch the sheet by the person's head and pull it down slowly, stopping when only their face is uncovered.<</if>> It's a young man. Around Sally's age. His hair is long and spreads about him like a halo. His mouth is marginally open. His eyes too. Glassy doll-like black eyes directing his attention to somewhere above him. Seeing and not seeing.<<set $sbthree to true>> <<if $sbone>> The footsteps are near the door of the morgue and you quickly push the slab closed and scurry to the other side of the autopsy table, blocking your view of the door and hopefully hiding you from whoever it is. [[NEXT->Page 203]]\ <<elseif not $sbone>> The ticking of the clock reminds you that you need to hurry. You push the drawer closed and latch it again. If the time is correct you've been staring at that body for five minutes. You hear some footsteps far off, sounding closer than they would be if they came from the stairs. Seems like someone is down the hall. Looks like you only have time for one more. <hr>\ * [[Pick option one.]] * [[Pick option two.->Page 202]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3> This drawer is nearly at your eye-level. You unlatch the top and effortlessly pull it out. The body on the slab is small beneath the white sheet. There's gaps in certain areas where the sheet dips lower. Places where it shouldn't. You hear the echo of footsteps down the hall. Remembering what you heard about the state of Stephanie's body you grip one of the lowered areas of the slab tightly and move your arm mechanically to the right.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> At first you don't know what you're looking at. It's said that we always try to see human faces in inanimate things as a way to make them familiar to us, to develop a connection to them. Perhaps your mind can't comprehend what you're looking at because there is no face. On the cold steel slab placed in places where they should be are chunks of body parts. Hard to recognize at first because they aren't connected to anything else. A hand without an arm, a thigh missing a knee and calf but having a foot. Whoever placed her here tried to assemble her like you would a Barbie doll, parts of her body even look waxy in the lightning. You could almost convince yourself you're looking at something made of clay. Almost. The uppermost part of her ends at a neck with jagged edges. No head. Someone or something either messed up the decapitation or they bit her head off, the jagged edges looking less like a shotty knife's job and more like biting and pulling like you would a piece of steak.<<set $sbtwo to true>> All of her parts have uneven and violent separations to them. Her skin shows a blue-gray colour to it. You don't know much about dead bodies, you wouldn't be able to tell if her body was ripped apart when she was already dead or was it gradually, did the pieces come off while her heart still beated like a hummingbird inside her ribcage? Bones, blood, intestines, hanging skin, the leftovers of something that was once human but now is returned to its basic state as a mammal. Bits and pieces. If she still had eyes at least, perhaps these things beneath your eyes wouldn't have an unrealistic quality to them. As your eyes go down her stomach you see something. You lean your face closer. It looks like, cuts. Deep cuts, almost perfectly straight. The lines end abruptly at the jagged edge that separates this section of stomach from the rest of her. <hr>\ * [[Touch her.]] * [[Keep your hands to yourself.]] </h3>

<h3>The door to the morgue creaks open. The sound on the hinges sounding like a low cry. A step, another one and no more. The clock ticks on. The door creaks again, the noise getting especially loud as it shuts. <<audio "creep2" loop play>> You hear breathing. Mouth breaths. The chemical smell in the room is very poignant. You're on all four, legs ready to crawl to the other side as soon as you hear even the softest rustling of clothes. The clock ticks and the breathing exhales almost in time with it. But as ready as you are to crawl for cover you don't hear movement. You actually don't hear anything from who came except the oddly low breaths of air. You softly crawl to the end of the table and peer your head out from behind it, your eyes at feet level. There is someone in front of the door but they aren't wearing scrubs. Or even a lab coat. It's so strange but... The clock has stopped ticking. You lean your head closer to the floor but you can't see the clock only the telephone beneath it. The breathing comes in the same pattern that the clock ticking had. There's something that's bothering you about the breathing but you can't say what. What you can see is that whoever is standing in the room with you is wearing a sheet. A white, thin, sheet. [[NEXT->Page 204]] </h3>

<h3> What kind of person sees the mutilated body of someone without a head and decides it's a good idea to touch them? Whatever you are. Really without much understanding of what you're doing you touch the bloody lines carved into her, the dried blood making ridges the tip of your fingers surfs upon. Her flesh is cold but not a normal cold. Not as cold as the room or even the temperature controlled freezer compartment she was locked into. The type of cold only achieved by an organism that once had life and warmth coursing through it. The skin does feel like silicone, making the scene as unreal as you thought. You press down on her, not knowing why. She doesn't yield though. Her skin doesn't break apart under your pressure. The lines don't stretch open. What the hell is that? Why is it there? You lift your finger up and let your arm drop by your side. Your eyes still focused on the spot you touched that shows no change. How did it feel touching a dead body? <hr>\ * [[🜥 Weird.]] * [[🜥 Gross.]] * [[🜒 Mesmerizing.]] * [[🜒 Nothing.]] </h3>

<h3> You're already pushing the boundaries of normalcy by coming down here and looking at a murdered girl's body. Your life and you haven't been normal so maybe your threshold for normal is further ahead than others but touching a corpse is too far even for you. Her body is already torn to pieces, there's no need morally or logically to poke at it like it'll yield new discoveries. Also, it's probably unsanitary. Do you feel anything seeing Stephanie's body here before you? <hr>\ * [[🜥 Yes. Empathy.]] * [[🜥 Yes. Fascinated.]] * [[🜒 No.]] * [[Kind of.]] </h3>

<h3> It's not everyday that one gets to touch a corpse especially one so viciously murdered, especially one belonging to a person you've been thinking about for weeks. You've never considered what your thoughts on religion are, but it feels... wrong to do this. Like you're committing an act that goes against some moral truth about the universe even if it was to gain some insight into whatever the heck those lines are for. Taking away any philosophical ideas, it's just something that does not fit into your life. As murderous as people think you are. You aren't a complete freak. <<set $Ethical += 1>> Just as you're lost in your thoughts, footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3>It's disgusting. You don't even know why the fuck you did it anyway. Great, you just let yourself touch a dead body, scratch that, a chunk of a dead body for no reason other than impulse because what was touching that bloody carving going to do? What is wrong with you? Of course, where to begin with that question? How far back do you want to go into your life? //That would take some time you disgusting idiot//, you chastize yourself. <<audio "creep1" stop>> You rub your forefinger against your clothes. You probably need to wash it. You're not familiar with the cleanliness etiquette of corpse touching but it won't hurt to use some soap. Just as you go into another tirade against yourself, footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3>Neither feelings bad or good really. Maybe it has to do with how fake this all feels, how this body doesn't feel like a real body but you can't conjure up any feelings for it. You're investigating, you needed to see about that strange carving. Is that bad? Would people judge you for being so unfeeling? Any normal person would have a reaction wouldn't they? You wouldn't know. You're so used to yourself. In simple terms, to you, staring down at this body makes you feel the same as if you were watching crushed leaves stuck to pavement. Absolutely nothing at all.<<audio "creep1" stop>> As your eyes go up and down the contents on the slab, Just as your lost in your thoughts, footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3> Such a definite word. There is nothing more to add then. <<audio "creep1" stop>> You cover what's left of her just in time to hear the footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3>It's complicated. Obviously, seeing the remains of a murder victim does make you feel something. You just can't say what. <<audio "creep1" stop>> You could spend hours trying to articulate what you feel but words sometimes aren't enough to get down the ocean that are feelings, because it's never one simple thing with you. How can it be when faced with this situation? Sad, angry, helpless, stupid, disgusted, empathetic, stunned, those words just don't seem to be enough. With those thoughts racing in your head you are interrupted by the footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3> It's hard to admit these things, no? That there is something deep within us that might go against the norm of accepted behaviour. A thing you wouldn't say out loud. You know you didn't only touch her because of those lines there. Perhaps, this is the first time you've realized something about yourself or you've felt an inkling of this before. For someone who has done bad things, this would just be in line of who you are. You can feel the corners of your lips lift. Call it being a freak, bloodthirsty, psychopathic, what have you. People usually are much more depraved than they look. There is something so alluring about the human body in complete destruction.<<set $Corrupt += 1>> As you admiringly look down to your leisure, footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. <<audio "creep1" stop>> [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3>No one deserves to die like this. No one should die so young. You don't know why this happened to her but how could it be her fault? Killed, mutilated and thrown aside like trash. <<set $Ethical += 1>> In death, her killer has managed to make her a non-person. He took even her humanity from her. You feel a spike of hot anger in your chest. The need to make whoever did this pay setting your limbs alight. You just can't imagine the amount of pain she went through before her eyes closed forever. <<audio "creep1" stop>> You're in your vigilante inspired ideas when footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room. [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3>It's like you don't want to touch the corpse to not ruin it. To keep this interest in it as being wholly unknown to you. A mysterious thing begging for examination. You've been so close to a dead body before. It's... exciting. You've never felt giddy but right now you could say you're very close to that. You can't even articulate why the sight of mangled remains gets your heart pumping like this. The fact that it's sick to feel this way just makes your delight more exquisite. All thoughts of Stephanie, the person, never even entering your mind. Your mouth quivers. In this state of mind the footsteps coming from right outside the doors of the morgue startle you awake and you dash to the floor, crawling to the other end of the autopsy table, blocking your view but hiding yourself at least from a purely frontal view of the room.<<set $Corrupt += 1>><<audio "creep1" stop>> [[NEXT->Page 203]] </h3>

<h3> You lay your cheek against the cold dirty floor and strain your eyes against your sockets to catch a glimpse of more but you only see more sheets. You're practically laying on the floor and if you move you'll likely make noise. Noise, a thing people make nearly in whatever they do. But this person doesn't make any noise. The sheet along their legs doesn't rustle. An employee of the hospital would be moving. They would be working, coming to the morgue for a reason. They wouldn't just stand there, waiting. That word pops into your head for an unknown place. You start pushing your chest off the ground when the figure takes one step in front of themself. The outline of a leg standing awkwardly ahead of their body. It's an unnatural stance, like the way a person would take a step but like an imitation instead of an innate human thing. They move their other leg forward. The movement looks stitled. It reminds you of how dolls look like when children try to make them walk. Your arms ache as you've stopped in a pushup. You slide your foot forward intending to crouch when your shoe squeaks against the floor. Your body tenses as you see the figure take one more stiff foot forward and that's when you notice their feet. They aren't wearing shoes. Their bare foot looks gray, their toes entirely black with long and uneven grime coated toenails. Their feet are filthy but their skin looks decayed, the steps they take making their toes drag along like glued on appendages. Now you know what bothers so much about their breathing. They haven't been breathing in. Only out. Endless shallow pants. Made hoarse from a throat that hasn't spoken for a long time. Blood pumps in your ears and even if you have trouble understanding fear you do know when your body is telling you to escape. So, do you? <hr>\ * [[Run.->Page 205]] * [[Stay put.]] </h3>

<h3> You clench your stomach muscles, feel the tautness in your legs and ball your hands together as you brace yourself for your grand escape. They take another strange step forward, their foot soundless as it touches the cold tiles. One. You're crouched, your legs almost bouncing with anticipation. Two. You see their big toe twitch. The long nail lightly scraping the floor. Three. You shoot up and waste no time in directing even a glance towards whatever or whoever that is, you run to the double doors, ignoring the pocket of cold air near the person under the sheet, push it open with your shoulder, almost slip as you precipitously turn and sprint down the hall. “Ssssttaaayyyy wwwwiiittthhhh mmmmmeeee $name,” a sing-song voice that doesn't belong to you says in your head. Reaching for the door, it opens and a nurse stops in front of you. She lets out a shriek of surprise at you burling past her towards the stairs, taking two at a time before yanking open the door for the second floor and running down the hall. You don't stop running as you pass Ms. Winterop who says something to you that doesn't reach your pace. Your $holder slams against your body, your footsteps heavy as they pound against the asphalt. Your stomach aches and your calves flare as your hair sticks to your forehead. You wipe away the sweat that rolls into your left eye and ignore the pain in your shoulders. You don't know how long you run for, choosing to push away the visceral discomfort your body is showing you until your legs give out from under you and you stick your arms in front of you to stop your face from smashing against the hard ground. Your heart beats like a jackhammer in your chest and you moan as you push yourself up into a standing position. Your wobbly knees nearly toppling you over again. [[NEXT->Page 206]] </h3>

<h3> Maybe they don't know you're here. They might go away. You pay close attention to the odd shape underneath the sheet and perk your ears up at any moment. They take another oddly placed movement forward. The cold blue light makes their nails look as black as night. They move their toes, back and forth, looking like they're feeling the floor. The minutes tick past and neither you nor they move. No one who works at a hospital would be wearing a white sheet but a uniform. Even if for some logical reason they were wearing sheet, a person does things. They move around, they grab stuff, eat, breathe like everyone else. You don't how many minutes have passed since they took their last step but you can't stay like this forever and they seem to not be in a hurry. Maybe they are doing something? Something you can't see by the disadvantage of your position. You push your body back behind the table, your vision of their feet obscured. First you slip your right leg forward, your thigh pressing against your chest. Then your left leg. You raise your head and peer over the surface of the table. What you see would make anyone else paralyzed with fear. The white sheet drapes down from the base of their head to their feet. Their body sexless beneath it. An adult playing ghost. And just like children who cut out eye holes and a mouth, they have their decorations too. Two eyes peer out from two small holes a few inches apart. The eyes colourless, the irises seem to have a milky film over them. Pupils either too small to see or nonexistent. What should be a hole for their mouth is instead a thin wet red line, sucking in and out in an O shape from above the breaths coming from their mouth. Fortunately their white eyes are staring at a point behind you, unblinking and unmoving. That's when the lights turn off. [[NEXT->Page 205*]] </h3>

<h3> You look around you. The sky is ombre going from black to dark blue with a sliver of orange on the horizon. Stars twinkle sporadically from the heavens, none of them big enough to offer any double takes or long gazes. Fuck. The last thing you need is to be caught outside after dark. It didn't feel that long inside the hospital. Time is slipping away from you.<<audio "creep2" stop>> You tuck your hands into your pockets and trudge the way home, making sure to keep on sides of the road that's surrounded by trees and leads to the manor all while thinking back at what you saw. What you heard. Was it real? A question you've been asked a lot by others and yourself. It felt real. Your eyes saw something that looked as real as the clothes on your body. Your ears heard something that seemed as real the sound of the crunching rocks beneath your shoes. But you can't be sure. You were alone and you are a compromised witness. You use an old napkin you find in your $holder to wipe away the perspiration on your throat, chest and forehead before entering the manor. [[NEXT->Page 207]] </h3>

<h3> Your eyes see the complete darkness that comes before the period that eyes adjust to said darkness. You blink your eyes rapidly and grip the edge of the table to maintain an awareness of your surroundings. You don't hear any shuffling or bare feet against the floor in front you. You squint as you strain your neck up higher to see the light that should be peeking out from between the spaces in the doors. Several moments pass before you can see the faint artifcial lights from the hallway and you think it's best to leave now since clearly this won't end until you do. “$name“ a voice whispers by your ear. A cold wet breath tickles your face and you jerk up. Blindly feeling around the table, racing to the doors and slamming them open with your palms. You sprint down the hall. “Don'ttttttt gooooooo $name“ that sing-song tone impossibly sounding as if it's coming from right next to you yank open the door to the stairwell, taking three steps at a time as you reach the second floor and race down the hall you had come from earlier. You don't stop running as you pass Mrs. Winterop who says something to you that doesn't reach your pace. Your $holder slams against your body, your footsteps heavy as they pound against the asphalt. Your stomach aches and your calves flare as your hair sticks to your forehead. You wipe away the sweat that rolls into left eye and ignore the pain in your shoulders. You don't know how long you run for, choosing to push away the visceral discomfort your body is showing you until your legs give out from under you and you stick your arms in front of you to stop your face from smashing against the hard ground. Your heart beats like a jackhammer in your chest and you moan as you push yourself up into a standing position. Your wobbly knees nearly toppling you over again. [[NEXT->Page 206]] </h3>

<h3> You shut the door behind you and look at the clock mounted on the far wall of the main entrance. God it looks like— “You're an hour late for dinner“ Sally walks out from the parlour and stands with his arms crossed in the middle of the room. “I wasn't paying attention to the time“ you say. “Clearly“ he says curtly. You don't respond and your brother stares into your eyes with an expressionless look despite the tone of his voice. It's such a weird look, you never see it on him. He's the most expressive person you've met. You want to move but you feel as if he wants to say something more. His eyes glance down to the <<cycle '$watch' autoselect>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'green'>><<option 'white'>><<option 'red'>><<option 'yellow'>><<option 'pink'>><</cycle>> watch on your wrist, a slight twitch in his eye. “I don't ask for much from you but a simple thing. Actually two things, be on time for dinner and if you are out after dark to call Arthur or me or Percy“ he admonishes, a cold undercurrent to his words. “I lost track of time, I wasn't really thinking—“ you try to explain. “No you never do, do you?” he interrupts. His words as hard as a slap across your face. “You go through your life never thinking about anything you do because in the end you're not the one who has to clean up or take care whether you're five, ten or eighteen.” You bite your tongue from retorting, Sally's tone grating on you because it sounds like he's the father and you a dumb kid who dragged mud into the house. [[NEXT->Page 208]] </h3>

<h3> You can't come up with the words to answer him either kindly or rudely. “Dinner is in the fridge“ he states and walks up the stairs, not pausing to give you a second glance before he's out of sight. You miss dinner one time and you get berated like a ten year old. But this is the first time in your life that Sally has ever implied that you've fucked up. He's always pushed that aside in favour of telling you that you have it in you to be better. Things that you thought were still the same squished in between the hard and grand changes look like they're morphing too. You walk into the kitchen and pull the fridge open, your food on the top shelf. You examine tonight's selection. <hr>\ * [[Macaroni with ground beef.->Page 209]] * [[Rice with vegetables and a scoop of mashed potatoes.]] * [[A sandwich with two sad eggs on the side.]] </h3>

<h3> You place the plate in the microwave and wait for it to warm, leaning your hip against the counter as you lazily watch the numbers count down. The house creaks and groans from its walls and a loud curse that sounds like Percy carries down from the second floor. You stop the timer when it reaches 1 and take your plate to the small servant's table pressed against the wall. You scoop pieces onto your fork and bring them into your mouth, your taste buds barely registering the meat or macaroni. Perhaps you've taken for granted how much Sally idealizes you. Sees you in a lesser shade of awful than everyone else. Now he seems to be waking up to you. You shovel the tasteless food into your mouth until your fork scrapes the empty plate. Throwing it in the sink you grab your $holder and take the stairs. You pass Mother's door, the light still visible under the crack of her door. Sally's lighted as well and Percy who curses a string of creative insults behind his door. You open your door, push it closed with your foot and turn the small knob of the lamp by your bed. Letting your $holder fall from your shoulders and thud on the ground, you sit on your mattress. You feel an oncoming headache and you rub your temples, your eyes glancing down at your floor. You sharply inhale through your nose as an acute pain travels from between your eyebrows down the ridge of your nose. You bend down and unzip your $holder. Flipping to Canto V of Inferno you lay down on your bed, your head propped up against the headboard and the book upright on your chest. [[NEXT->Page 210]] </h3>

<h3> You sniff the sad vegetables and shrug. > You place the plate in the microwave and wait for it to warm, leaning your hip against the counter as you lazily watch the numbers count down. The house creaks and groans from its walls and a loud curse that sounds like Percy carries down from the second floor. You stop the timer when it reaches 1 and take your plate to the small servant's table pressed against the wall. You scoop pieces onto your fork and bring them into your mouth, not at all tasting the watery vegetables nor the hardened rice. Perhaps you've taken for granted how much Sally idealizes you. Sees you in a lesser shade of awful than everyone else. Now he seems to be waking up to you. You shovel the tasteless food into your mouth until your fork scrapes the empty plate. Throwing it in the sink you grab your $holder and take the stairs. You pass Mother's door, the light still visible under the crack of her door. Sally's lighted as well and Percy who curses a string of creative insults behind his door. You open your door, push it closed with your foot and turn the small knob of the lamp by your bed. Letting your $holder fall from your shoulders and thud on the ground, you sit on your mattress. You feel an oncoming headache and you rub your temples, your eyes glancing down at your floor. You sharply inhale through your nose as an acute pain travels from between your eyebrows down the ridge of your nose. You bend down and unzip your $holder. Flipping to Canto V of Inferno you lay down on your bed, your head propped up against the headboard and the book upright on your chest. [[NEXT->Page 210]] </h3>

<h3> You place the sandwich on a paper towel on the counter and the eggs in the microwave, leaning your hip against the counter as you lazily watch the numbers count down. The house creaks and groans from its walls and a loud curse that sounds like Percy carries down from the second floor. You stop the timer when it reaches 1, take the sandwich and the plate to the small servant's table pressed against the wall. You grab the sandwich with both hands and take a bite, the processed cheese, bread and turkey not making much of an impact on your tastebuds. Perhaps you've taken for granted how much Sally idealizes you. Sees you in a lesser shade of awful than everyone else. Now he seems to be waking up to you. You shovel the tasteless food into your mouth until your fork scrapes the empty plate. Throwing it in the sink you grab your $holder and take the stairs. You pass Mother's door, the light still visible under the crack of her door. Sally's lighted as well and Percy who curses a string of creative insults behind his door. You open your door, push it closed with your foot and turn the small knob of the lamp by your bed. Letting your $holder fall from your shoulders and thud on the ground, you sit on your mattress. You feel an oncoming headache and you rub your temples, your eyes glancing down at your floor. You sharply inhale through your nose as an acute pain travels from between your eyebrows down the ridge of your nose. You bend down and unzip your $holder. Flipping to Canto V of Inferno you lay down on your bed, your head propped up against the headboard and the book upright on your chest. [[NEXT->Page 210]] </h3>

<h3> Technically, you're supposed to be further than Canto V but Mrs. Paulson doesn't know how to control her easily distracted and rowdy students who have taken most of the school week and more to reach two percent of the poem. Dante is in the second circle of Hell, the place where sinners condemned by lust are forever stuck in a whirlwind. He stops to talk to two who in life committed adultery, both betraying the same man. For the woman, her husband and for the man, his brother. ''//Love, kindling quickly in the noble heart, seized him: he was enamoured of this body killed in a way of which I suffer yet. Love, who insists all loved ones must requite their lovers, seized me so with love's enjoyment that, as you see, love does not leave me yet. Love, chose a single death for both of us.//'' Your homework is answering in short paragraph how is this love different from the love Dante has for his Beatrice? Had you even noticed there was a difference? You aren't a savant, a know-it-all but it'd be easier for you to answer poetic structure, voice and narrative themes than it is to describe love. Logically you know there are many types of love. Cold and unfeeling definitions of the words the Greeks had for them: Eros, Philia, Agape, Mania, etc. Looking through the fuzzy memories of your life you wonder if you've ever felt it. Do memories elicit love or is it those moments happening in real-time that give it? Why do some people love one person but not another? How do you get someone to love you? Is it a learned trait or a natural occurrence? What makes a bad love? What makes a good one? Are they all entirely one thing or both? Your mind shifts away from the words, looking nowhere. <hr>\ * [[Imre.->Page 211]] * [[Nia.]] * [[Lorcan.]] * [[Your mind is blank.]] </h3>

<h3> It's not the strangest thing but you don't understand why you begin to picture Nia's face. It might be a reasonable thought due to the fact that you haven't seen much of her. Your brain treading on familiar paths. You've thought about your former best friend's looks before. <<audio "sexy" loop play>> It's hard to grow up with someone and not notice these things. How others react to her. How you would at times get this prickly feeling on your arms and legs when you got lost in her expression. You didn't understand why this was since it was such a feeling that didn't illicit sensations of negativity or positivity. What startled you in those rare moments was how you saw everyone else's physicality with indifference but not hers, not always. <<set $niathought to true>> You would watch her hair spool around her face when she slept like a halo. You would get the urge to touch a strand, wanting to feel what she felt when you would sit behind her as she held her hair in a ponytail, her fingers running through the top to comb it. You can still hear the sound of her long nails parting her thick locks. When you would both lay down on a blanket in her backyard, she somehow made the dreary gray light of day radiant on her skin, her hair shining in the day looking more alive than the bright flowers planted around the fence. Her eyes would crinkle at the edges when she truly found something funny. Narrowing from laughter. The sound of joy escaping her throat and giving hard competition to the few birds you've ever heard. Her tongue would press against her front teeth. After her laughter would stop, her glistening tongue would slowly move along her bottom lip, wetting her plump lip with her saliva. You would watch enraptured as her tongue snaked towards her top lip and worked it moist too. She would look at you then. A neutral expression in her eyes as she would take her finger and rub her bottom lip, spreading her saliva messily along her skin. Her lipstick smudging and giving her the effect of having been kissed too hard. [[NEXT->Page 212*]] </h3>

<h3> In the past when you've thought of Lorcan it's usually been in anger, imagining his stupid face and mentally punching him. If you were asked to describe him you could but because of the negative feelings he incites in you you've never taken time to truly look at him in any other way. He's nice looking, you suppose. Not the type of physical beauty that would make someone do a double-take. More... normal good-looking. Normal's not bad though, he didn't need to be a James Dean type to get girls who hated him to admit he was cute. <<audio "sexy" loop play>> People's appearances to you were never that important. You didn't understand why some sort of people were thought to be pretty and others weren't. What makes attraction? <<set $lorcanthought to true>> He's very blond. Though he doesn't take care of it, it's dull and unruly. You think he uses his fingers in lieu of a comb. Although, its form compliments his face shape, you guess. When he's on his bike the wind ruffles it behind him in a way that isn't so ugly. It wouldn't be bad to say you liked it, right? He wouldn't know. They say people with blond hair look angelic. The last thing you'd ever say about Lorcan but the times he's showered at the house with his damp hair curling around his neck, does make him look far delicate than he actually is. He had forgotten to lock the door one time when you saw him. He had his pants on but you caught a glimpse of his thin chest. His wet pale skin covered in droplets over the visible bones of his breastplate. You shut the door before he could tell you off but all these years later you've never forgotten those droplets. Sometimes your mind added one thick one sliding down his pectorals, between his ribcage and slipping into his belly button. He had a tattoo there. A black widow, two of its long legs reaching to the middle of it, to trap it. It was an unusual place for a boy to have a tattoo but it suited him. Below that you could've sworn there were little blond hairs leading down to the top of his boxers. [[NEXT->Page 212**]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know if this is normal or strange or possible but you just have never felt any inkling of that that Dante writes about. Maybe there are others like you out there who see displays of love but feel no tug towards it or anyone in particular. The only emotion that you could possibly call love would be what you've felt for people you grew up with that have been kind to you, Nia, Sally and maybe Percy on a good day. <<set $nonfap to true>> Of course you've never asked yourself if you've loved any of them but you must, right? Romance doesn't seem that interesting anyway and truthful you don't feel like you're missing out of much due to how every couple you know kind of hates each other so... You stare up at your ceiling and get lost in the cracked painting disrupting the white colour of old. [[NEXT->Page 214*]] </h3>

<h3> From somewhere, for unexplained reasons, Imre's face pops into your mind. You've seen more of him in the last month than you have in your whole life. Because of this minimal contact you've never sat down and really thought about what he looks like. <<audio "sexy" loop play>> You're not blind. His physical attractiveness is very pronounced. But it was just that, how he looked mattered to you as much as the colour of bark. It was a thing that was and had always been and that had never an affect on your life. You never saw anyone any other way than with indifference and confusion. Everyone beneath your gaze was the same. Less out of equality and more apathy. His hair is brown, it's curly, perfectly shaped rings that lay on his head without disarray. You've never thought about how soft it looks. But now that you think about it he sometimes runs his hand behind his head, ruffling up the curls. They move easily between his fingers but always go back to their place after he's done. Not even soccer disturbs it. You have only ever seen him play once, Nia promised to go to one of his games but had also made plans with that day so she combined it just this once, promising you that you two would not have to endure the whole game. You remember how focused his blue eyes were as he waited for one of the other players to pass him the ball. The shirt sticking to his chest, revealing the curved muscles of his stomach. <<set $imrethought to true>> He got the ball and you watched how quickly his legs moved across the field, slipping past opposing players as if he were air. His thighs glistening in the gray light, bones shifting and tightening under his tan skin. He had kicked the ball so hard he slipped, his shorts riding up his legs and exposing to you the thicker hairs on his skin that was on the same level as the bulge in between his legs. [[NEXT->Page 212]] </h3>

<h3> You look down at your crotch when you feel a warmth there. It starts off as twitch, like someone flicking you. It spreads all from somewhere deep beneath your skin, inside you and can feel the heat emanating from your pours. Your hand slides from your thigh and hovers over the spot, you're a tad surprised when you don't feel heat waves from there like you would a radiator in winter. The sensation makes the skin of your legs prickle. Your heart starts thumping quickly beneath your chest and your nose takes up deeper inhalations of air, your throat nearly shaking as you feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You've read about this. You know what is happening and you know what to do to fix it. <hr>\ * [[Vagina.->Page 213]] * [[Penis.->A]] * [[You close your legs.]] </h3>

<h3> You look down at your crotch when you feel a warmth there. It starts off as twitch, like someone flicking you. It spreads all from somewhere deep beneath your skin, inside you and can feel the heat emanating from your pours. Your hand slides from your thigh and hovers over the spot, you're a tad surprised when you don't feel heat waves from there like you would a radiator in winter. The sensation makes the skin of your legs prickle. Your heart starts thumping quickly beneath your chest and your nose takes up deeper inhalations of air, your throat nearly shaking as you feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You've read about this. You know what is happening and you know what to do to fix it. <hr>\ * [[Vagina.->Page 213*]] * [[Penis.->B]] * [[You close your legs.->You close your legs 2]] </h3>

<h3>You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your <<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. The heat warms the tips of your fingers and you begin to //rub.// Never having done this before and not knowing you could feel this you start in small circles at the tip of your pussy. You feel that part of yourself move all around. Imre's thighs flexing as he got up for the grass. Your hand moves a bit faster. The vein's swelling underneath the soft skin of his hands, his fingers long and smoothly snaking along his chest. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your wrist twists faster. <<set $genitalia to 'vagina'>> The way Imre stared down at your chest that day at the library. A gasp flits from between your open and dry lips. Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. <<set $masturbationImre to true>> Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of the heat from Imre's body, the waves touching you, how it would feel to have his chest pressed against yours. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll scream. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically tug at yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your <<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. You pull yourself out and you're surprised at how //hard// you feel. You lick your fingers and your palm and start pumping slowly and only from the base to the middle of your cock. Completely new to this you don't know if you would hurt yourself going too quick. Imre's thighs flexing as he got up for the grass. Your hand moves a bit faster and higher. Imre's shirt lifting when he cleaned off his sweaty forehead. The hard muscles tightening under his belly button. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your hand squeezes and raises up to your tip. <<set $genitalia to 'penis'>> The way Imre stared down at your chest that day at the library. A groan flits from between your open and dry lips. <<set $masturbationImre to true>> Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of the heat from Imre's body, the waves touching you, how it would feel to have his chest pressed against yours. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll yell. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically strangle yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3>You press your thighs together as hard as you can and will your mind to think of other things, less... tantalizing things. <<set $nonfap2Imre to true>> You once read a book about the rugby players that crashed in the Andes in 1972. They were there for 72 days and went through all kinds of tribulations. Cold, thirst and hunger to the point where they ate their dead friends to survive. You think a movie was released last year about that. Of course it makes no sense to cast Americans as Latinos and have the entire dialogue of the movie in English because then you lose the cultural context and richness. You become so focused on culture erasure that you manage to successfully forget what you were thinking about and you relax your thighs as the heat in between your legs cools down into its natural state. You hum as you return to the familiarity of your body and think about learning Spanish. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214*]] </h3>

<h3> You look down at your crotch when you feel a warmth there. It starts off as twitch, like someone flicking you. It spreads all from somewhere deep beneath your skin, inside you and can feel the heat emanating from your pours. Your hand slides from your thigh and hovers over the spot, you're a tad surprised when you don't feel heat waves from there like you would a radiator in winter. The sensation makes the skin of your legs prickle. Your heart starts thumping quickly beneath your chest and your nose takes up deeper inhalations of air, your throat nearly shaking as you feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You've read about this. You know what is happening and you know what to do to fix it. <hr>\ * [[Vagina.->Page 213**]] * [[Penis.->C]] * [[You close your legs.->You close your legs 3]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your <<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. The heat warms the tips of your fingers and you begin to //rub.// Never having done this before and not knowing you could feel this you start in small circles at the tip of your pussy. You feel that part of yourself move all around. The soft mounds of Nia's breasts peeking from her tank top. Your hand moves a bit faster. <<set $masturbationNia to true>> Her juicy lips moist in the daylight from lip gloss, the sticky imprint she would leave on your cheek. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your wrist twists faster. <<set $genitalia to 'vagina'>> Nia's soft and minty breath by your ear that day in the cafeteria. A gasp flits from between your open and dry lips. Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of how it felt to have her arms wrapped around your waist in a hug, how that might feel if you could feel your bare skin instead. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll scream. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically tug at yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your<<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. You pull yourself out and you're surprised at how //hard// you feel. You lick your fingers and your palm and start pumping slowly and only from the base to the middle of your cock. Completely new to this you don't know if you would hurt yourself going too quick. The soft mounds of Nia's breasts peeking from her tank top. Your hand moves a bit faster and higher. <<set $masturbationNia to true>> Her bent leg in a skirt, long socks stopping by her thigh, the thickest and softest part of it as a teasing treat. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your hand squeezes and raises up to your tip. <<set $genitalia to 'penis'>> Nia's soft and minty breath by your ear that day in the cafeteria. A groan flits from between your open and dry lips. Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of how it felt to have her arms wrapped around your waist in a hug, how that might feel if you could feel your bare skin instead. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll yell. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically strangle yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your <<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. The heat warms the tips of your fingers and you begin to //rub.// Never having done this before and not knowing you could feel this you start in small circles at the tip of your pussy. You feel that part of yourself move all around. Lorcan's small little veins sliding up from under the waistband of his boxer. Your hand moves a bit faster. <<set $masturbationLorcan to true>> His thumb in his mouth as he bit absentmindedly, the little string from his mouth to the tip when he let the thumb out. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your wrist twists faster. <<set $genitalia to 'vagina'>> His eyes on you, roaming along your bored unashamedly. A gasp flits from between your open and dry lips. Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of the times he could've touched you even to hit you, thinking how it would feel to have his hand squeezing your thigh. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll scream. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically tug at yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3> You look at the door and unbutton your pants. You kick off your shoes and make to slide your garment all the way off but think better of it pull it back up. Your hand hovers for a moment over your crotch and you plunge it under the top of your pants, past the zipper and over your <<cycle '$under' autoselect>><<option 'boxer'>><<option 'panties'>><<option 'underwear'>><</cycle>> proper. You pull yourself out and you're surprised at how //hard// you feel. You lick your fingers and your palm and start pumping slowly and only from the base to the middle of your cock. Completely new to this you don't know if you would hurt yourself going too quick. <<set $masturbationLorcan to true>> Lorcan's small little veins sliding up from under the waistband of his boxer. Your hand moves a bit faster and higher. The curve of his biceps as he lifted his hands up to comb his hair, a peek at the hair on his armpit. That unfamiliar feeling of heat getting hotter as your hand squeezes and raises up to your tip. <<set $genitalia to 'penis'>> His eyes on you, roaming along your body unashamedly. A groan flits from between your open and dry lips. Your other hand blindly hits the headboard behind you as you try to find something to grip. Your face pinches as a mounting feeling of something sets your nerves on fire, your legs bend, your knees facing the ceiling, your toes gripping the blanket underneath you. Your other hand grabs the top of the headboard as you remind yourself of the times he could've touched you even to hit you, thinking how it would feel to have his hand squeezing your throat. You let out a short moan and press your lips closed as you feel if you don't you'll yell. That strange feeling is nearing its crescendo and you practically strangle yourself to get it there faster. You only need— <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214]] </h3>

<h3> “Jesus!“ <<audio "sexy" stop>> You slip your hand out of your pants and hastily throw a pillow over your crotch just in time for your brother to peek his head inside your room. With a questioning look he looks from you to the pillow on your legs and back up at you. “What are you doing?” he asks suspiciously. You swallow and say without much thought “studying.” “Then why did you scream?” “You scared me.” “You never get scared.” You blink at him and he blinks at you, neither of you knowing what to say. He shakes his head “can we talk?” He doesn't wait for you to answer before stepping in, while his back is turned closing the door you quickly button your pants and throw the pillow over yourself. He sits on your bed, moving your feet out of the way and placing them on his lap. He looks around at your room, his eyes flitting over the posters, the scattered books and articles of clothing on furniture. “Just as you left it huh?” he practically whispers, not really asking you. He rubs his chin and looks at you with pinched eyebrows “I didn't want to end the day like that.” [[NEXT->Page 215]] </h3>

<h3>“Yeah?” You clasp your hands on your stomach and turn your eyes to the door at your brother's face peeking out from behind it. “Are you busy?” he asks. You shrug nonchalantly. He takes that as permission to say “can we talk?” He doesn't wait for you to answer before stepping in, while his back is turned closing the door you quickly throw the pillow over yourself, somehow feeling as if what you felt that is now gone, still lingers. He sits on your bed, moving your feet out of the way and placing them on his lap. He looks around at your room, his eyes flitting over the posters, the scattered books and articles of clothing on furniture. “Just as you left it huh?” he practically whispers, not really asking you. He rubs his chin and looks at you with pinched eyebrows “I didn't want to end the day like that.” [[NEXT->Page 215]] </h3>

<h3> “Like what? You greeting me with my failures right as I walk in?” Sally flinches at that and looks down at that special scar of yours. He's never asked you how you got it, maybe he knows and thinks you do too. Or he just doesn't think it's worth it to open up that conversation, in his own special way protecting you. “I've been stressed... things are getting...” he rubs his forehead and shakes his head, not wanting to say what he was going to say. “Things changed since you've been gone.” //Yeah, I got that very quickly//, you think. “Not just in the town but this family too. Not only because of Orla but Mother and Father too and I'm the one having to take charge of it all“ he explains. You and Percy are in that 'all.' He glances into your eyes “but that doesn't mean I should take it out on you. What I said is not how I feel, do you understand that?” He has a distressed look on his face and to please him you reply “I do.” He sighs and says “I need you to understand that I didn't mean it.” Your eyebrows pinch together like his “I do understand Sally.” <<if $nickname>>“You have to $nickname, promise me you do.” He looks so worried, as if it's too important that you do. Sally has always been much too intense towards your perception of him you realize. Probably nothing to it.<<elseif not $nickname>>“You have to $name, promise me you do.” He looks so worried, as if it's too important that you do. Sally has always been much too intense towards your perception of him you realize. Probably nothing to it.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“I promise.” Truth.->Page 216]] * [[You smile.]] * [[“Calm down.”]] * [[“I promise.” Lie.]] </h3>

<h3> You nod as now you won't have to wake up tomorrow worrying about Sally hating you like everyone else. He hasn't changed. He won't change. He's yours and you're his, family. Forever. He searches your eyes for any sign of deceit and his shoulders slump in relief when he believes you. He finally smiles, showing all his teeth. “Good, so good.” He checks his watch and adds “it's getting late, I should let you sleep.” He moves your feet off his lap and stands, walking a few steps to the door before turning around and saying “we should go see a movie tomorrow.” You quirk an eyebrow, “a movie?” He nods enthusiastically. “It'll be fun, we haven't been to the movies in years.” <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”->Page 217]] * [[“I don't think that's a good idea.”]] * [[“No.”]] </h3>

<h3> Your brother knows you well. He can read your expression better than anyone and you know you don't need to say anything for him to understand. It's easier this way anyway, you don't need to answer yes or no whether you believe in either or not. He searches your eyes for any indication of a negative sentiment from you and sighs in relief. He finally smiles, showing all his teeth. “Good, so good.” He checks his watch and adds “it's getting late, I should let you sleep.” He moves your feet off his lap and stands, walking a few steps to the door before turning around and saying “we should go see a movie tomorrow.” You quirk an eyebrow, “a movie?” He nods enthusiastically. “It'll be fun, we haven't been to the movies in years.” <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”->Page 217]] * [[“I don't think that's a good idea.”]] * [[“No.”]] </h3>

<h3> Sally can be... intense with you. Sometimes he treats little things as if they were Earth-shattering moments that will change everything forever. Drama queen. “It's literally fine Sally, we're fine.” He leans his head to the side and tsks at you, he hates blase answers to his serious inquiries but his eyebrows go back to their original place on his forehead. He finally smiles, showing all his teeth. “That's not an answer but ok.” He checks his watch and adds “it's getting late, I should let you sleep.” He moves your feet off his lap and stands, walking a few steps to the door before turning around and saying “we should go see a movie tomorrow.” You quirk an eyebrow, “a movie?” He nods enthusiastically. “It'll be fun, we haven't been to the movies in years.” <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”->Page 217]] * [[“I don't think that's a good idea.”]] * [[“No.”]] </h3>

<h3> Since he knows you so well it's been hard to lie to him all your life but you still try because you can't say the truth, you know it would hurt him but his words still circle around your mind. He sounded far too honest when he reproached you. He examines your face for any cracks, but he ends up exhaling and it sounds like relief. He finally smiles, showing all his teeth. “Thank God.” He checks his watch and adds “it's getting late, I should let you sleep.” He moves your feet off his lap and stands, walking a few steps to the door before turning around and saying “we should go see a movie tomorrow.” You quirk an eyebrow, “a movie?” He nods enthusiastically. “It'll be fun, we haven't been to the movies in years.” <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”->Page 217]] * [[“I don't think that's a good idea.”]] * [[“No.”]] </h3>

<h3>He grins, “I thought you would try to say no.” You shrug, “you are the one who says I should do normal teenager things, go outside and be more social. The theatre is a good social place.” He chuckles as you use his words back at him. “Can ya'll shut the fuck up? I'm tryna sleep!“ Percy yells from his room and bangs on his wall for emphasis. Sally groans and rolls his eyes. <<if $nickname>>“Goodnight $nickname.” <<elseif not $nickname>>“Goodnight $name.”<</if>> You reply in kind and he slips out of the door, softly clicking the door behind him. You change into your pajamas, brush your teeth and slide under your cool covers. You click off the lamp and stare at the wall across from you in complete darkness. Your tree taps at your window. <<if $masturbationImre >> You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. All the people you've ever seen fawn over Imre and turns out you might be one of them. You shake your head, not wanting to believe that thought. Just a fluke. Hormones. <<elseif $masturbationNia >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. It's not like you've never thought about Nia as more than a friend but this is the first time you've done something of this nature. No, it was just a fluke. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. What the fuck? Did you just fantasize about... you shake your head vigorously. No. Absolutely not. That's not what happened. It doesn't even mean anything. This never happened.<<elseif $nofap >> Your mind empty of anything but the usual mess of things that have happened to you lately. <<elseif $nofap2 >>You were turned on. For a brief moment on someone you shouldn't be thinking about that way. All the better you stopped yourself.<</if>> You roll over and close your eyes, almost excited and almost nervous about tomorrow. [[NEXT->Page 218]] </h3>

<h3> He raises his eyebrows “why?” You shake your head and say “there's just too many people Sally. I don't— I'm not good with a crowd and they're not good with me.” “One, who told you you aren't? Two, I'm sorry if that sounded like a question because it wasn't, you're going to have fun as any kid your age should“ he answers cheerfully. “Can ya'll shut the fuck up? I'm tryna sleep!“ Percy yells from his room and bangs on his wall for emphasis. Sally groans and rolls his eyes. <<if $nickname>>“Goodnight $nickname.” <<elseif not $nickname>>“Goodnight $name.”<</if>> Before you can get a word out, he slips out of the door, softly clicking the door behind him. You change into your pajamas, brush your teeth and slide under your cool covers. You click off the lamp and stare at the wall across from you in complete darkness. Your tree taps at your window. <<if $masturbationImre >> You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. All the people you've ever seen fawn over Imre and turns out you might be one of them. You shake your head, not wanting to believe that thought. Just a fluke. Hormones. <<elseif $masturbationNia >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. It's not like you've never thought about Nia as more than a friend but this is the first time you've done something of this nature. No, it was just a fluke. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. What the fuck? Did you just fantasize about... you shake your head vigorously. No. Absolutely not. That's not what happened. It doesn't even mean anything. This never happened.<<elseif $nofap >> Your mind empty of anything but the usual mess of things that have happened to you lately. <<elseif $nofap2 >>You were turned on. For a brief moment on someone you shouldn't be thinking about that way. All the better you stopped yourself.<</if>> You roll over and close your eyes, entirely unsure of what awaits you tomorrow. [[NEXT->Page 218]] </h3>

<h3> He doesn't look at all surprised by your answer. “And why don't you want to?” “Oh I don't know, it might be the fact that that's just opening me up for relentless stares and gossip. It's not a good idea,“ you huff. He huffs to mimic you, “you do have that teenage rebelliousness after all and antisocial-ness. As the adult I'm now saying you're going and you're going to have a great time.” “Can ya'll shut the fuck up? I'm tryna sleep!“ Percy yells from his room and bangs on his wall for emphasis. Sally groans and rolls his eyes. <<if $nickname>>“Goodnight $nickname.” <<elseif not $nickname>>“Goodnight $name.”<</if>> With a protest ready on your lips he slips out of the door, softly clicking the door behind him. You change into your pajamas, brush your teeth and slide under your cool covers. You click off the lamp and stare at the wall across from you in complete darkness. Your tree taps at your window. <<if $masturbationImre >> You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. All the people you've ever seen fawn over Imre and turns out you might be one of them. You shake your head, not wanting to believe that thought. Just a fluke. Hormones. <<elseif $masturbationNia >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. It's not like you've never thought about Nia as more than a friend but this is the first time you've done something of this nature. No, it was just a fluke. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>You think about what you were doing before you were interrupted. What the fuck? Did you just fantasize about... you shake your head vigorously. No. Absolutely not. That's not what happened. It doesn't even mean anything. This never happened.<<elseif $nofap >> Your mind empty of anything but the usual mess of things that have happened to you lately. <<elseif $nofap2 >>You were turned on. For a brief moment on someone you shouldn't be thinking about that way. All the better you stopped yourself.<</if>> You roll over and close your eyes, dread contaminating you about all the fresh hell you'll face tomorrow. [[NEXT->Page 218]] </h3>

<h3>On Saturday Night you find yourself standing in front of your mirror. You move your face around trying to liven it up a bit, you might need to start taking vitamins. You lift up a strand of hair and let it fall flatly by your face. Nothing you can do about that unless you go scavenging for some hair products. Sally had told you this morning that he wanted you to 'dress nicely.' Whatever that means. You had been dressing up as well as you could since school started back up again. Plain but put together. Even so, you make the effort to bring out some clothes of your liking to fit a social environment. It's in the style of... <hr>\ * [[semi-preppy.->Page 219]] * [[grunge.]] * [[goth.]] * [[academic.]] * [[rock.]] </h3>

<h3>You don't think you've ever worn lighter colours. You will not lower yourself to tie a sweater around your neck though. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif $name>>“$name?”<</if>> “Coming!“ you yell as you slip on your loafers. You walk out of your room at the same time that Percy peeks his head out of his. He looks at your clothes. “Where are you going?” he asks, disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He must've been up playing video games again. “To the movies“ you answer as you pass him. You walk down the stairs to see Sally shrugging on his coat as his eyes look behind you. You hear Percy following you. “I'm going“ he says as he runs down the stairs with his tennis shoes in hand. You look at Sally, and he's looking down at Percy's feet. “You should wear shoes, it's cold out and a shoe is a seat bed for bacteria, Percy“ Sally states. Percy twists his foot into his tightly laced shoe “tell you what, when my foot gets gangrene you can cut it off and eat it.” Sally makes a face and walks out the front door. You follow him and Percy stumbles behind you as he tries to force his other foot into his other shoe. All three of you cram into Sally's car, you squeezed in the middle. Sally turns on the heat as Percy simultaneously rolls down the window. “Percy“ Sally warns, but your other brother twists his body away from you two, crosses his arms on the window and lays his chin down. You and Sally exchange glances but say nothing. [[NEXT->Page 220]] </h3>

<h3>You look like a lumberjack, a chic lumberjack which is on brand as your family deals with trees. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif $name>>“$name?”<</if>> “Coming!“ you yell as you slip on your boots. You walk out of your room at the same time that Percy peeks his head out of his. He looks at your clothes. “Where are you going?” he asks, disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He must've been up playing video games again. “To the movies“ you answer as you pass him. You walk down the stairs to see Sally shrugging on his coat as his eyes look behind you. You hear Percy following you. “I'm going“ he says as he runs down the stairs with his tennis shoes in hand. You look at Sally, and he's looking down at Percy's feet. “You should wear shoes, it's cold out and a shoe is a seat bed for bacteria Percy“ Sally states. Percy twists his foot into his tightly laced shoe “tell you what, when my foot gets gangrene you can cut it off and eat it.” Sally makes a face and walks out the front door. You follow him and Percy stumbles behind you as he tries to force his other foot into his other shoe. All three of you cram into Sally's car, you squeezed in the middle. Sally turns on the heat as Percy simultaneously rolls down the window. “Percy“ Sally warns, but your other brother twists his body away from you two, crosses his arms on the window and lays his chin down. You and Sally exchange glances but say nothing. [[NEXT->Page 220]] </h3>

<h3>It makes the death-like aura that follows you everywhere seem more pronounced which aids the look. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif $name>>“$name?”<</if>> “Coming!“ you yell as you slip on your spiked platform shoes. You walk out of your room at the same time that Percy peeks his head out of his. He looks at your clothes. “Where are you going?” he asks, disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He must've been up playing video games again. “To the movies“ you answer as you pass him. You walk down the stairs to see Sally shrugging on his coat as his eyes look behind you. You hear Percy following you. “I'm going“ he says as he runs down the stairs with his tennis shoes in hand. You look at Sally, and he's looking down at Percy's feet. “You should wear shoes, it's cold out and a shoe is a seat bed for bacteria Percy“ Sally states. Percy twists his foot into his tightly laced shoe “tell you what, when my foot gets gangrene you can cut it off and eat it.” Sally makes a face and walks out the front door. You follow him and Percy stumbles behind you as he tries to force his other foot into his other shoe. All three of you cram into Sally's car, you squeezed in the middle. Sally turns on the heat as Percy simultaneously rolls down the window. “Percy“ Sally warns, but your other brother twists his body away from you two, crosses his arms on the window and lays his chin down. You and Sally exchange glances but say nothing. [[NEXT->Page 220]] </h3>

<h3>You're not nearly studious enough to do justice to the look but you appear smart and well groomed, responsible and totally sane. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif $name>>“$name?”<</if>> “Coming!“ you yell as you slip on your Oxfords. You walk out of your room at the same time that Percy peeks his head out of his. He looks at your clothes. “Where are you going?” he asks, disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He must've been up playing video games again. “To the movies“ you answer as you pass him. You walk down the stairs to see Sally shrugging on his coat as his eyes look behind you. You hear Percy following you. “I'm going“ he says as he runs down the stairs with his tennis shoes in hand. You look at Sally, and he's looking down at Percy's feet. “You should wear shoes, it's cold out and a shoe is a seat bed for bacteria Percy,” Sally states. Percy twists his foot into his tightly laced shoe, “tell you what, when my foot gets gangrene you can cut it off and eat it.” Sally makes a face and walks out the front door. You follow him and Percy stumbles behind you as he tries to force his other foot into his other shoe. All three of you cram into Sally's car, you squeezed in the middle. Sally turns on the heat as Percy simultaneously rolls down the window. “Percy“ Sally warns, but your other brother twists his body away from you two, crosses his arms on the window and lays his chin down. You and Sally exchange glances but say nothing. [[NEXT->Page 220]] </h3>

<h3>You don't even know who the band on your shirt is but they look cool, you just hope no aficionados see it and start quizzing you. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif $name>>“$name?”<</if>> “Coming!“ you yell as you slip on your converses. You walk out of your room at the same time that Percy peeks his head out of his. He looks at your clothes. “Where are you going?” he asks, disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He must've been up playing video games again. “To the movies“ you answer as you pass him. You walk down the stairs to see Sally shrugging on his coat as his eyes look behind you. You hear Percy following you. “I'm going“ he says as he runs down the stairs with his tennis shoes in hand. You look at Sally, and he's looking down at Percy's feet. “You should wear shoes, it's cold out and a shoe is a seat bed for bacteria Percy“ Sally states. Percy twists his foot into his tightly laced shoe “tell you what, when my foot gets gangrene you can cut it off and eat it.” Sally makes a face and walks out the front door. You follow him and Percy stumbles behind you as he tries to force his other foot into his other shoe. All three of you cram into Sally's car, you squeezed in the middle. Sally turns on the heat as Percy simultaneously rolls down the window. “Percy“ Sally warns, but your other brother twists his body away from you two, crosses his arms on the window and lays his chin down. You and Sally exchange glances but say nothing. [[NEXT->Page 220]] </h3>

<h3>The car ride is suffering from a lack of conversation. The only noise apart from the engine and the wind is the radio, too low to make out any of the music. Sally has cleared his throat about seven times now, his way of showing how awkward he feels. You, unaccustomed to the feeling of awkwardness, sit perfectly fine in silence. The sight of Percy's back doesn't tell you if he fell asleep or not, he's usually not this quiet. Any time in the past when all three of you have hung out he fills the silences. You and Sally talk less with him around. Huh, new observation. You remember Percy's words to you that day he took you to school, how he made it seem like it was you and Sally and then everyone else. <<audio "fun" loop play>> Have you taken too much space? Could Sally be more inclusive of his affections and attention? Maybe Percy needs to be more open? Who's fault is it that the three of you are all so mangled up like this? The easy culprits to blame are Mother and Father. Dr. Madorna once told you that at a certain point children need to separate their horrible actions from what their parents did to them because that excuse won't fly the older you get. Your feelings towards your parents aren't something you've dwelled on enough to know how much you might blame them. You feel Sally blames them, Percy blames Father. Your sister blamed everyone. Sally starts slowing down as the lights on Main Street come into view in the distance. Percy leans back into his seat and rolls up the window. Now the quiet is louder. <hr>\ * [[To Percy: “You actually want to hang out with us?”->Page 221]] * [[To Percy: “How did you get a TV in your room?”]] * [[To Sally: “How's work?”]] * [[To Sally: “You should teach me how to drive.”]] </h3>

<h3>Percy scrunches up his nose as if he smelled something rank. “You didn't have to say it like that.” <<set $PercyBond += 1>> You look at him confused, “what do you mean 'like that'? It's a normal question.” He shakes his head, “it sounds like I made a conscious effort to want to be around you two I just want to go to the movies.” “Did you mess up your car Percy?” Sally asks with a stern expression, already dreading the answer. “It's not parked at the house.” Percy sighs exaggeratedly, “why must you always think the worst of me, dear brother? Do I not deserve the benefit of the doubt? Must I always face this scrutiny?” He affects a British accent, poorly done. Sally exhales and taps his finger on the wheel. “If you ruined the car you know I won't be able to lend you the others because—“ “—Father said so,“ Percy interrupts. Percy points to his face, “look at this face? Could this face ever lie to you, Salvatore?” Sally glances quickly at Percy who's pouting and fluttering his eyes. Sally just shakes his head again in disappointment. Percy smirks and whispers in your ear, “the car's fine and dandy. Just don't tell him to see him pop a vein.” You snort and shake your head too but in a better mood than Sally. <hr>\ * [[To Sally: “How's work?”]] * [[To Sally: “You should teach me how to drive.”]] * [[You don't ask anything else.->Page 222]] </h3>

<h3> He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you talking about?” You give him the same look, making you look more like siblings than usual, “those noises at night? Guns, swearing, bombs, arcade music?” Percy's expression doesn't change “you must be really fucking losing it Crazypants.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Don't call her that,“ Sally interjects. “It's unkind.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Don't call him that,“ Sally Interjects. “It's unkind.”<</if>> Percy makes an 'ugh' sound and props his feet on the dash. “It's actually good sibling bonding to call them names. It's like sibling relationships 101. You would know that if you were a good brother like moi.” Sally grimaces and glares at Percy. Crazypants is one of the kindest names you've ever been called. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> “When will you ever mature?” Sally asks irritated. <<if $pronouns is 'she' && $nickname>>“The day you let our baby sister mature. Or do you plan on breastfeeding $nickname until your nips are dry?” Percy says cruelly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he' && $nickname>>“The day you let our baby brother mature. Or do you plan on breastfeeding $nickname until your nips are dry?” Percy says cruelly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'she' && not $nickname>>“The day you let our baby sister mature. Or do you plan on breastfeeding $name until your nips are dry?” Percy says cruelly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he' && not $nickname>>“The day you let our baby brother mature. Or do you plan on breastfeeding $name until your nips are dry?” Percy says cruelly.<</if>> “Do you want me to turn this car back around? Don't tempt me Percival,“ Sally warns. “Not like I was even invited in the first place,“ Percival says in a low voice that only you hear. <hr>\ * [[To Sally: “How's work?”]] * [[To Sally: “You should teach me how to drive.”]] * [[You don't ask anything else.->Page 222]] </h3>

<h3> Sally's eyes widen when the last word leaves your lips. He quickly looks from the road to you. “What?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“SHE ASKED HOW'S WORK?” Percy says loudly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“HE ASKED HOW'S WORK?” Percy says loudly.<</if>> Sally rolls his lips and says “thank you for that, Percy.” Percy smiles and waves it off like saying 'no big deal.' “Why do you want to know?” Sally asks. You raise your hands “why not? It's something that you spend most of the week doing. It's also the family business, shouldn't I know more about it?” “Hey I don't know much about it and look at me. I turned out well. One day you could be like me“ Percy deadpans. “You and I have a different concept of 'well'“ Sally comments. Percy gives Sally the finger and wipes the bottom of his shoe on the glass, it makes a squeaky sound. “You're wiping that later.” “So....” you prompt. Sally chews on his lip for a second before saying “it's fine. Same old same old. It's really just listening to Father's old friends complain about something that won't ever affect their income because the government is corrupt and immoral.” Percy whistles at that. It seems like you won't be getting any more out of Sally on this subject. <hr>\ * [[To Percy: “You actually want to hang out with us?”->Page 221]] * [[To Percy: “How did you get a TV in your room?”]] * [[You don't ask anything else.->Page 222]] </h3>

<h3> Percy bursts out laughing. Sally seems to choke on saliva and coughs a few times, hitting his chest with a fist. “You want me to teach you how to operate a vehicle?” he asks in a raspy voice, swallowing. “Why did you say that like you're from the 50s?” you ask. Sally taps the dash, “you want to drive one of these?” You nod slowly. Percy is still laughing, his shoulders shaking you. You elbow him and he laughs even harder. Sally taps the gear stick “you want to successfully transport yourself in a moving mechanism that has the potential to kill someone?” You roll your eyes “you don't have to be that dramatic y'know. Pretty much anything can kill you, I could get killed by a car myself while on foot.” Percy hits the dash with his palm as he wipes the tears from his eyes, his face sweaty for all the joy he's currently experiencing. What the hell is so funny? Sally leans back in the seat and grips the steering wheel, an unsure expression on his face. “I just don't think you're ready yet.” You huff “I'm eighteen, most kids my age have been driving for two years. Both of you got your license then too, and you, Sally were driving even before that.” Sally doesn't answer and turns up the music on the radio. Now he doesn't have to accept or reject your request. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy exhales “that's the funniest thing you've ever said sister.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy exhales “that's the funniest thing you've ever said brother.”<</if>> <hr>\ * [[To Percy: “You actually want to hang out with us?”->Page 221]] * [[To Percy: “How did you get a TV in your room?”]] * [[You don't ask anything else.->Page 222]] </h3>

<h3> Sally turns off Main Street and right at the corner the bright lights of the cinema blink down on the front window. Sally parks behind a taxi — or //the// taxi as there's only one cab in town and its driven by a person covered from head to toe in black robes with sunglasses on — and all three of you slip out into the late September night air. You join Sally on the sidewalk and look up at the billboard for the movies currently playing. The owner of the theatre is from a foreign land, no one knows where but he writes the names of the movies in his native tongue, which doesn't exist in any known encyclopedias. For easier reading, he adds little symbols at the end that correspond with what's in the movie. Right now you're looking at three. The first one has the symbols of a lion, a ghost and a musical note, the second there's a gun, orange-tinted sunglasses and handcuffs and lastly, the third one has a dinosaur, an island and a fossil. They're people lining up by the ticket-booth, others loitering around in groups. All around your age. You catch snippets of conversations //in media res//. You hear your name coming from various groups as people begin to notice you, their eyes disdainfully picking out any physical flaws they perceive on you. “I thought the devil only came out on Halloween,” you hear as you and your brothers go to the back of the line. “Then why are you already in costume?” You see a familiar boy among the largest group by the doors. Imre's wearing a smile, his words as pleasantly teasing as he can make them. “No Imre, that's not a costume, she's just born with a tail sticking out of her ass,” Nia snarks. They all laugh. The girl who made the comment does too, her facing turning a horrible shade of red. [[NEXT->Page 223]] </h3>

<h3> Nia has her arm linked with Imre, both seeming to have a conversation with only their eyes as they periodically glance at one another. “Move,” Percy pushes you forward. You move along a few steps closer. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname, Nia's here, you should go say hello,“ Sally says, in front of you in the line. He lifts his hands and waves at the duo. Imre reciprocates and Nia nods.<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name, Nia's here, you should go say hello,“ Sally says, in front of you in the line. He lifts his hands and waves at the duo. Imre reciprocates and Nia nods.<</if>> Before you can answer him, Percy interrupts, “so what the hell are we going to see? I have no fucking money so I have to see whatever you two idiots pick so it better be good.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Sally looks over his shoulder at you, “it's up to you sister.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Sally looks over his shoulder at you, “it's up to you brother.”<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“The lion one.”->Page 224]] * [[“The orange glasses one.”]] * [[“The dinosaur one.”]] </h3>

<h3> “Ugh,“ Percy complains. “A fucking musical.” “Hush or you'll spend the next two hours in the car,“ Sally warns. “Excellent choice,“ he says to you. You see Imre whisper in Nia's ear. She clenches her jaw and gives a look to Imre that you can only describe as 'really?' He smiles at her and they both excuse themselves from the line. You tilt your head, following them as the walk away from the theatre and turn at the corner. <<set $movie to 'lion'>> You focus on the back of Sally's coat as the line slowly moves towards the ticket-booth. Your thoughts wander to nothing in particular and you bump into your brother. You look at him to see his face turned to somewhere behind you. You follow his gaze and see Lorcan standing at the back of the line, looking at Sally. Lorcan's expression seems neutral enough until he finds you looking at him too. His eyes narrow and he looks away. When you turn forward again Sally has turned too. A change you've also taken notice of is that Lorcan and Sally seem have more familiarity than before. He was even invited to your house. It could be nothing, your own suspicious nature making you think things that aren't anything more than they appear. Sally did say Father has been taking care of Lorcan because of his father. “Fuck me will we ever get to that fucking booth,“ Percy groans. They line starts moving quicker. “Huh 'fuck' is the magic word,“ he snorts. You reach the boy behind the glass and Sally orders three tickets. Like little ducklings you two trail behind him into the building. [[NEXT->Page 225]] </h3>

<h3> “A horror,” Percy says. “Fitting for you Crazypants.” “Use that nickname one more time Percy,“ Sally says with a stony tone. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname, are you sure you want to see that movie? I heard it's violent and very sexual,“ he says to you.<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name, are you sure you want to see that movie? I heard it's violent and very sexual,“ he says to you.<</if>> “Sally they don't play Barney at the movies,“ Percy chimes in. You see Imre whisper in Nia's ear. She clenches her jaw and gives a look to Imre that you can only describe as 'really?' He smiles at her and they both excuse themselves from the line. You tilt your head, following them as the walk away from the theatre and turn at the corner. <<set $movie to 'killers'>> You focus on the back of Sally's coat as the line slowly moves towards the ticket-booth. Your thoughts wander to nothing in particular and you bump into your brother. You look at him to see his face turned to somewhere behind you. You follow his gaze and see Lorcan standing at the back of the line, looking at Sally. Lorcan's expression seems neutral enough until he finds you looking at him too. His eyes narrow and he looks away. When you turn forward again Sally has turned too. A change you've also taken notice of is that Lorcan and Sally seem have more familiarity than before. He was even invited to your house. It could be nothing, your own suspicious nature making you think things that aren't anything more than they appear. Sally did say Father has been taking care of Lorcan because of his father. “Fuck me will we ever get to that fucking booth,“ Percy groans. They line starts moving quicker. “Huh 'fuck' is the magic word,“ he snorts. You reach the boy behind the glass and Sally orders three tickets. Like little ducklings you two trail behind him into the building. [[NEXT->Page 225]] </h3>

<h3> “Wow,“ Percy utters. “You do have some taste, there's hope for you yet.” “Hopefully you're happy enough with the choice to shut your mouth for the rest of the night,“ Sally mumbles. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname, that movie's a bit scary, don't you want to watch something else?” he says to you.<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name that movie's a bit scary, don't you want to watch something else?” he says to you.<</if>> “I'll shut my mouth when you stop being such a scaredy cat,” Percy says. He lightly pushes Sally forward in. You see Imre whisper in Nia's ear. She clenches her jaw and gives a look to Imre that you can only describe as 'really?' He smiles at her and they both excuse themselves from the line. You tilt your head, following them as the walk away from the theatre and turn at the corner. <<set $movie to 'park'>> You focus on the back of Sally's coat as the line slowly moves towards the ticket-booth. Your thoughts wander to nothing in particular and you bump into your brother. You look at him to see his face turned to somewhere behind you. You follow his gaze and see Lorcan standing at the back of the line, looking at Sally. Lorcan's expression seems neutral enough until he finds you looking at him too. His eyes narrow and he looks away. When you turn forward again Sally has turned too. A change you've also taken notice of is that Lorcan and Sally seem have more familiarity than before. He was even invited to your house. It could be nothing, your own suspicious nature making you think things that aren't anything more than they appear. Sally did say Father has been taking care of Lorcan because of his father. “Fuck me will we ever get to that fucking booth,” Percy groans. They line starts moving quicker. “Huh 'fuck' is the magic word,” he snorts. You reach the boy behind the glass and Sally orders three tickets. Like little ducklings you two trail behind him into the building. [[NEXT->Page 225]] </h3>

<h3> While Sally takes a while ordering food because he asks the sleepy 14 year old behind the counter the nutritional value of nearly everything, and Percy is picking his nose and trying to wipe it on people passing him, you see through the tinted doors that Imre and Nia have made it back into the line. Lorcan takes his ticket from the booth and walks in. He doesn't look your way as he goes into one of the auditoriums. Coincidentally the same one you're going to. “... but I don't want nothing on it. Is there another option apart from butter and caramel, a healthier option,“ Sally says. “Sir, the movie is about to start and I was hired yesterday,“ the 14 year old answers. “Don't mind him, he's schizophrenic,“ Percy leans over the counter. “We'll just have butter,“ he says, knocking on glass surface. The kid quickly complies and practically shoves the popcorn into Sally's arms. Percy takes one of the popcorn bags and walks into the auditorium. Sally hands you one of the bags and together you go in. [[NEXT->Page 226]] </h3>

<h3>The auditorium is nearly packed as you follow Sally up the steps. Percy bullies a teenager out of their seat and he contently sits at the front row, eating out of his hand. You can feel eyes on you as you pass the rows. Sally finds two seats in the last rows. You squeeze past knees that do their best to make themselves small so as not to have you graze them. “First public date,“ someone whispers. <<audio "fun" stop>> Sally holds the seat down for you, as you sit you hear, “I bet you five bucks $name will start jerking Sally off when the lights turn off.” You cross your ankles and grip your popcorn bag as the boy sitting next to you moves his arm off the armrest and scoots as far away from you as he can in that small seat. “Poor Sally, such a hottie and fucking that. Can't blame him though, $name might murder him if he says no,“ a girl says loudly in front of you. “Hey,“ Sally says. You look at him and his eyes show concern. “Just ignore them ok?” <hr>\ * [[You let Sally squeeze your arm.->Page 227]] * [[“I don't give a shit what they say.”]] * [[“Easier said than done.”]] * [[“I wish I could kill them.”]] * [[You grind your teeth.]] </h3>

<h3> His fingers are cold over your coat but you appreciate the small comfort — however — brief it provides you. It doesn't stop the snickers you hear from the group behind you. Sally lets go but his elbow remains touching yours as you share the armrest. A mop of blond hair moves through the darkness of the room and stops a few rows down from you. His shoulders are raised higher than they would be if he were relaxed. The side door opens and light floods in as Imre and Nia come in. Imre holding two bags while Nia leads him past your row and to the very last one. You catch Imre's eyes and he smiles politely at you. Nia looks at you briefly, at least you think but given how her eyes sweep around her she might've not seen anything at all. The theatre's commericals end and the studio logos begin on the screen. The stereos in the room sounding so loud you can feel it in your chest. [[NEXT->Page 228]] </h3>

<h3> “They're perverted fucks anyway,“ you whisper harshly under your breath. Sally's eyebrows raise and he seems like he wants to tell you not to swear but he just hums and pops some kernels into his mouth. A mop of blond hair moves through the darkness of the room and stops a few rows down from you. His shoulders are raised higher than they would be if he were relaxed. The side door opens and light floods in as Imre and Nia come in, Imre holding two bags while Nia leads him past your row and to the very last one. You catch Imre's eyes and he smiles politely at you. Nia looks at you briefly, at least you think but given how her eyes sweep around her she might've not seen anything at all. The theatre's commericals end and the studio logos begin on the screen. The stereos in the room going so loud you can feel it in your chest. [[NEXT->Page 228]] </h3>

<h3> “It happens all around me all the time, I can never get used to it,“ you answer with hard eyes. “Tell me, how?” you ask. Sally sighs, patting your hand once. A mop of blond hair moves through the darkness of the room and stops a few rows down from you. His shoulders are raised higher than they would be if he were relaxed. The side door opens and light floods in as Imre and Nia come in, Imre holding two bags while Nia leads him past your row and to the very last one. You catch Imre's eyes and he smiles politely at you. Nia looks at you briefly, at least you think but given how her eyes sweep around her she might've not seen anything at all. The theatre's commericals end and the studio logos begin on the screen. The stereos in the room going so loud you can feel it in your chest. [[NEXT->Page 228]] </h3>

<h3> You feel your insides squirm, a fire spreading throughout your organs and aiming to ignite you to action. Sally lays a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “Just focus on the movie, ok?” You don't answer, not trusting your voice. Sally lets go but his elbow remains touching yours as you share the armrest. A mop of blond hair moves through the darkness of the room and stops a few rows down from you. His shoulders are raised higher than they would be if he were relaxed. The side door opens and light floods in as Imre and Nia come in, Imre holding two bags while Nia leads him past your row and to the very last one. You catch Imre's eyes and he smiles politely at you. Nia looks at you briefly, at least you think but given how her eyes sweep around her she might've not seen anything at all. The theatre's commericals end and the studio logos begin on the screen. The stereos in the room going so loud you can feel it in your chest. [[NEXT->Page 228]] </h3>

<h3> Your hands grip the armrests and your jaw clenches, eyes staring intensely in front of you. You feel Sally's eyes on you. “That's not funny.” “Who says I'm joking?” you snap back. He doesn't answer but his eyes keep on you for long moments after.<<set $evilmeter +=1>> A mop of blond hair moves through the darkness of the room and stops a few rows down from you. His shoulders are raised higher than they would be if he were relaxed. The side door opens and light floods in as Imre and Nia come in, Imre holding two bags while Nia leads him past your row and to the very last one. You catch Imre's eyes and he smiles politely at you. Nia looks at you briefly, at least you think but given how her eyes sweep around her she might've not seen anything at all. The theatre's commericals end and the studio logos begin on the screen. The stereos in the room going so loud you can feel it in your chest. [[NEXT->Page 228]] </h3>

<h3> <<if $movie is 'lion'>> You watch the screen as animated animals of the African sahara convene to the coronation of a baby lion. The music so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. <<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>The screen shows the back of a man's head as the waitress tells him about the diner's pies. The music creating a lulling effect on you.<<elseif $movie is 'park'>>The orchestra music accompanies a scene of armed men unloading a cage, your attention immediately caught by the prospect of a monster.<</if>> <<if $movie is 'lion'>>Someone throws popcorn at the screen, most likely your brother. <<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>Someone boos loudly and you make a guess that it's your brother.<<elseif $movie is 'park'>>A hoot can be heard over the energetic music, sounding suspiciously like Percy.<</if>> <<if $movie is 'lion'>>You manage to drag yourself out of your jumbled mind long enough to become invested in the movie, finding you like how lively the music and the animal faces are. <<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>You manage to drag yourself out of your jumbled mind long enough to become invested in the movie, the general oddity and action making for entertaining distraction.<<elseif $movie is 'park'>>You manage to drag yourself out of your jumbled mind long enough to become invested in the movie, the tropical setting intriguing you, who has never set foot before in a place where sunburn was a real possibility.<</if>> You can almost forget yourself for a moment. You lean back into your seat, chewing slowly on the buttery popcorn. At funny moments you even smile while the people around you are more vocal about their joy. <<if $movie is 'lion'>>During the scene of the stampede, you're invested enough to lean a bit forward, nervous for the characters. You feel a tap on your arm. <<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>People whistle and holler when the woman — who's obviously wearing a fake wig — is being pleasured on a hood of a car. You feel a tap on your arm. <<elseif $movie is 'park'>>Your eyes widen at the birth of a dinosaur egg while you hear other people mimicking vomiting. You feel a tap on your arm.<</if>> <<if $movie is 'lion'>>With rapt attention you watch as the king is thrown to his death by his brother. Another tap. <<elseif $movie is 'killers'>> Amused and slightly confused you try to keep up with the colour changes and cuts. Another tap.<<elseif $movie is 'park'>> Your eyes follow the doctor dressed in a leather jacket, fascinated by how some people willingly choose to stand out. Another tap. <</if>> <<if $movie is 'lion'>>You see a girl wiping her eyes as the lion prince tries to rouse his father. “$name?”<<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>The person next to you covers their eyes at another brutal killing. “$name?” <<elseif $movie is 'park'>> You lean forward as a Triceratops comes in full view on the screen. “$name?”<</if>> “What?” you whisper, your eyes still on the screen. “I have to go“ Sally whispers back. Your eyes rip away from the screen as you look down to your brother's lap, his pager laying on it with numbers you can't decipher. “Are you serious?” you ask, suddenly feeling tense at being surrounded by strangers. Sally must see it on your face and he gives you a reassuring smile “go sit with Percy, if I'm not finished by the time the movie's over I'll send Arthur for you.” [[NEXT->Page 229]] </h3>

<h3>Most likely seeing you unconvinced he kisses your head, murmurs a, “sorry,“ and excuses himself down the row as kids move their knees out of the way. Sally's parting brought you out of the movie, it's like reading a book and suddenly someone blasts music in the next room over. You just can't seem to focus on the screen anymore. You rub your face with your palms and breathe in. You keep your fingers against your eyes for so long that when you finally uncover them you find little floating stars tainting your vision. Your fingers dig into the armrests, your nails indenting the plastic. You $habit, so as to ground yourself. You find the room is smaller somehow. Warmer. You feel your armpits sweat. You hear a slight buzzing from somewhere. You don't want to. You don't mean to. But you find yourself thinking about the last time you were here. It was December 17th. Your birthday. And your sister's. [[NEXT->Page 230]] </h3>

<h3>You were turning twelve and she was turning fourteen. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>She wanted to go see Planes, Trains and Automobiles. You hadn't given your input, nor were you asked by your parents. By then she had completely disowned you as a sister.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>She wanted to go see Planes, Trains and Automobiles. You hadn't given your input, nor were you asked by your parents. By then she had completely disowned you as a brother.<</if>> Your head hurts.<<audio "oldie" loop play>> You were made to sit further away from her and her friends, about five seats between you and them. You could hear her laugh above all others during the funny moments. Her laugh was a singularity. Unlike any other laugh you had ever heard. It wasn't ugly and it wasn't pretty. It was simply a laugh that could never belong to anyone else but her. It was a laugh that disquieted you. Like knowing a pistol is being pointed at you from behind but not being allowed to turn around and look. She had gone to the bathroom and made sure to knee your popcorn out of your hand. Telling you “if you're hungry, eat it off the floor.” //She had been laughing that night in July. At something you said.// You can see the shape of her mouth as she's laughing in your mind, an image so powerful it's on the screen. You look around you and everyone is watching the screen too. Laughing and sipping on their drinks. The lower half of her gigantic face falls. You lean forward as something is trying to wriggle out from between her front teeth. At first you think its her tongue but it's a clump of dark hair. Stephanie's small shriveled bloodied face dangles over Orla's pearly white teeth. Stephanie small terrified eyes plead with you. She wants you to help her. But you don't know how. Your sister's mouth opens for a second before slamming down and severing Stephanie's head clean off her neck. [[NEXT->Page 231]] </h3>

<h3> Everyone laughs. You see people's faces pinch as if in pain as their bloody mouths choke out screams of unbridled elation, blobs of spit hitting the person in front of them. As you lock eyes with a girl who swishes her bloody mouth at you, you feel a massive ache explode behind your eyes. You grunt as it makes your teeth burn. You bring your hands up to the sides of your head and rub violently. //You can't help her, can you? You're lying to yourself, like always. You can't help her and you can't escape your dead sister. How useless.// It's happening again. Just like in the bathroom at school. <hr>\ * [[You tell it to shut it's mouth.->Page 232]] * [[You try to ignore it.]] * [[You listen.]] </h3>

<h3>“Shut up“ you whisper. //Make me. I'm you after all. You know you can make me stop but you don't really want me to, do you? Where would you be without me?// “You're not real—“ //If you're real then I'm real//, the voice says from Orla's mouth. It's not a voice with real sound. No tone. An abstract thing that sounds nothing like your sister's voice. //Although, are you real? How can you be if everyone who loved you forgot you when you were sent away?// You squeeze your eyes shut, the vibrating feeling running down your head to your shoulders. It'll keep going until there's nothing left of you to take. //So... weak. Orla was stronger. That's why everyone loved her. You're unloved because you chose to be so pathetic, crumbling into nothing just because of a tiny little voice in your head, your voice.// You shoot up from your seat. [[NEXT->Page 233]] </h3>

<h3> You breathe in and out, trying to remember who you are and where you are. //That won't help, you know. It never works. How many times have we've done this same dance? I'm here and you can't shut me out.// You press your lips together and use your whole chest to breathe. //Such a child. Incapable of confronting things head on, that's why you need me. I can do it for you//, the voice says from Orla's mouth. It's not a voice with real sound. No tone. An abstract thing that sounds nothing like your sister's voice. //I'm the only one that truly loves you. Who has done for you what I've done? Done all the dirty work for a weakling that can't stand to look at it.// You squeeze your eyes shut, the vibrating feeling running down your head to your shoulders. It'll keep going until there's nothing left of you to take. //So... weak. Orla was stronger. That's why everyone loved her. You're unloved because you choose to be so pathetic, crumbling into nothing just because of a tiny little voice in your head, your voice.// You shoot up from your seat. [[NEXT->Page 233]] </h3>

<h3> You know that no matter what you do, you'll hear it. No point in fighting it right now. //This a first. Usually it's me talking and you pretending I'm not there or trying to make me go away. Are you brave now?// You don't reply. Reminding yourself that you aren't in a private place. //No you're not braver. You're just smarter. Not an improvement in your cowardice at all//, the voice says from Orla's mouth. It's not a voice with real sound. No tone. An abstract thing that sounds nothing like your sister's voice. //You still can't accept me. It would take a rebirth. Maybe not even then because reborn you'd still be you. Feeble is in your blood.// You try to keep your eyes open, in spite of your throbbing head. The vibrating feeling runs down your head to your shoulders. It'll keep going until there's nothing left of you to take. //So... weak. Orla was stronger. That's why everyone loved her. You're unloved because you chose to be so pathetic, crumbling into nothing just because of a tiny little voice in your head, your voice.// You shoot up from your seat. [[NEXT->Page 233]] </h3>

<h3><<if $movie is 'lion'>> “Aw do cartoon lions scare the freak?” a girl's voice yells from somewhere in the dark room. You look at the people around you, their mouths are bloodless. The screen is on another musical number.<<elseif $movie is 'killers'>>“Since when do murderer's scare a murderer?” a boy yells from somewhere in the dark room. You look at the people around you, their mouths are bloodless. The screen is a complicated montage interspersed with prison inmates.<<elseif $movie is 'park'>>“Fucking lunatic pisses $himselfherself at dinosaurs“ a random person yells from somewhere in the dark room. You look at the people around you, their mouths are bloodless. On screen the dinosaurs are wrecking havoc on the island, people are running for their lives.<</if>> You huff and push past legs, not caring or noticing when you push knees out of the way, ignoring the curses from people. <<audio "oldie" stop>> You run down the steps and push open the door, the bright yellow lights of the lobby assault your eyes. You saunter over to a nearby table and sit down. Holding your head in your heads. Your eyes see the scratched surface of the table. Some lines random and other purposeful;y done to imprint names. You breathe in through your nose until it hurts your bones and exhale sluggishly. Your brain is exhausted, it feels like you've been running. The throb in your head has lost some of its potency but it still makes your eyes hurt when you lift them and to the food counter. The fourteen year old is reading some paperback called Blood Meridian. The room feels stuffy and bright. You get up and go out the front glass doors. The cool air immediately acting like a blast of icy cold water to your face. [[NEXT->Page 234]] </h3>

<h3><<if $vice is 'smoking'>>You search in your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. You pop one in your mouth and light it. You inhale deeply and keep the smoke in your mouth. Blowing out, you watch the smoke float up into the night.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>You search in your pockets for your flask. You unscrew the cap and take a deep swing. The burning brandy runs down your throat until your eyes water. You swallow and your mouth twists. Your alcoholic breath bites your nostrils.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>You find the nearest wall and slam your hand into it. You bite your tongue to prevent any noise of pain. Your face pinches and you cradle your hand as you bend at the waist.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>You search in your pockets for your pill bottle. You bite off the cap and dump a few pills into your mouth straight from the bottle. You swallow drily, the little white circles try to stick to your throat.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>> You focus on the feeling of the cold air against the exposed parts of your skin. You tap your shoes against the pavement. You breath in the odorless air of the night. You touch your legs with your dangling fingertips.<</if>> You feel your heart slow down. Your limbs become less constricted. You sigh as you feel almost like yourself again. The scene around you, the empty street with parked cars, the closed ticket-booth, the deserted sidewalk, show nothing out of the ordinary. //What's happening to me?//, you think. Are you losing the little bit of sanity that you've managed to keep intact for the last years of your life? What the fuck are you going to do if that happens? What help can you get when your own brain is against you? You slide your teeth against your fingernail, lost in your racing and confused thoughts. You touch the scar on your $scar. The door swings open behind you and you turn to see... //Note: whoever you don't pick now, you'll have the chance to speak to later// <hr>\ * [[Imre.->Page 235]] * [[Nia.->Page 235B]] * [[Lorcan.->Page 235C]] </h3>

<h3> He doesn't seem surprised to see you at all. Casually, he walks closer to you, stopping when your shoulder to shoulder. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>> He looks at the cigarette in between your fingers and asks “can I have one?” You don't answer but you do take one out for him, he makes sure to not touch your fingers. You pass him a lighter and hear the clicking of it three times before you smell the tobacco.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> He looks down at the flask in your hand and asks “would you mind offering me a sip?” You don't answer but hand it to him. He makes sure not to accidentally brush fingers with you. From the corner of your eye you see him take a swing.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> He looks down at your hand, the blood coating your knuckles has begun to harden. His expression betrays no emotion, not even pity. “You shouldn't fight walls, they tend to win.”<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> He looks all over your face, but particularly your eyes. It's dark, the telltale signs wouldn't be that noticeable but something tells you he somehow still knows you're drugged. “You hide it well enough, you know.”<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>> He takes you in, seemingly searching for something. But there's nothing out of the ordinary with you physically so his eyes leave you, bored.<</if>><<set $imremovies to true>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“I didn't know you smoked“ you say. He blows out rings of large and perfectly shaped 'Os'.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“I didn't know you liked straight alcohol“ you say. He smacks his lips together, bringing the flask up to his nose and sniffing it.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“I guess either I'm stubborn, stupid or competitive“ you joke. A side of Imre's mouth rises up.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“I wasn't making a concious effort to do so“ you reply. Imre stares at you but you don't look his way.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You raise your arms above your head in a stretch, Imre looks on for something to do.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“I don't make a habit of it. I hesitate to call it a 'special treat' for certain occasions. It's a unique thing, fitting in this scenario“ he answers. You don't ask him what he means, you don't need to.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“I much prefer something that goes down smoother. With all due respect this could taste better“ he says in a friendly tone.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“You could be the first one, although usually when someone hits a wall it's about anger not pigheadedness“ he answers.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“I guess there's a sort of freedom in not caring so much what others think when they already think the worst“ he answers.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>He stretches a bit too, he makes an effort to not copy you and he doesn't move his legs, just his arms. But he's still accompanying you in it.<</if>> <<if $haircut >>\ “You colored your hair,” he observes, “a suiting color.” You bring a hand up to your hair. You didn't think he'd notice. <<elseif $cutty >>\ “You got a haircut,” he observes, “better than your previous cut, I mean no offence.” You bring a hand up to your hair. You didn't think he'd notice. <<elseif $piercing >>\ He looks at your face for a moment. When you peer back he looks away. “A piercing,” he states. A mere observation that has positive or negative feelings. You didn't think he'd notice. <</if>>\ You two say nothing for a few moments. The soundlessness of the night being, contradictorily, loud enough. Anyone driving by could possibly mistake you two for friends. How ridiculous of a notion. As if saying an ant and a hawk are the same. <<if $masturbationImre >>Having him near you reminds you of what you had been doing last night. You push that memory away, throw it somewhere far into the recesses of your mind. Intending never to drag it out to daylight again.<<elseif $nonfap >>Having him near would produce a more intense effect in other people. For you? He provides nothing at all. But you are allies, so you guess you must tolerate him.<<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>Having him near reminds you of what you almost did last night. You push that memory away, throw it somewhere far into the recesses of your mind. Maybe you could take it out one day but not today.<</if>> “So, are you going to ask me why I'm here?” he asks, a friendly and relaxed smile to his face. Mimicking the state of his body language. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Are you here to be nice?”->Page 236]] * [[♡ “I don't need to. I know.”]] * [[⟡ “Why are you here, Imre?”]] * [[“I'll take a raincheck on the Q and A.”]] * [[You sigh, exasperated.]] </h3>

<h3> Her eyes widen an inch but otherwise she doesn't seem shocked to see you there. She takes a few steps out from under the marquee, behind you but to the side where you can see her in your periphery.<<if $vice is 'smoking'>> She sees you smoking and takes out her own cigarette, lighting it with a sleek gold lighter. “You took up smoking“ she states. You'd be hard pressed to ever make Nia ask a question.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>> She eyes the flask dangling from your hand and lights her cigarette with a golden lighter. She takes a drag and states in between smoke “you're a drinker now.” If it were someone else they'd formulate it as a question.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>> Her eyes quickly zero in on your knuckles and stay there as she lights her cigarette, the golden lighter reflects the heated tobacco. “Is that a new way to take out your aggression“ she says, not needing to ask because she knows you and she tries never to ask questions.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> You see her look at your pocket and you push the bottle further into your pants. She brings her golden lighter to her cigarette “You've taken a page out of your mother's book“ she states, in that monotone way of hers. Anything to avoid asking a question.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>> She watches your fingers tap against your leg while she lights her cigarette with a golden lighter you've seen her use before. “You look nervous“ she states. She doesn't like to ask people questions, she finds ways to do so without making it seem so.<</if>><<set $niamovies to true>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“Maybe I always smoked and you just didn't know,” you reply. She takes a few steps forward, not quite next to you but closer.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“You make 'drinker' sound like alcoholic“ you reply. She blows out a cloud of smoke and moves slightly forward.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“You know violence and I aren't strangers“ you reply. She hums. You hear her heeled boots step closer.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“Do you think she'd be proud?” you snark. She makes a sound you can't comprehend. She comes up next to you, leaving a noticeable space in between.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>“Do I? I feel fine“ you reply. She makes a 'huh' sound. She walks until she's further ahead of you, now you're in her peripheral.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“I knew everything about you,” she says. You glance at her over your shoulder, she's pointedly looking away from you. Even if she wasn't you couldn't tell if she feels anything at all.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“Did I? Maybe that's your own insecurity“ she retorts. You look over at her and she spares you a glance before looking away.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“Yes, but there's a difference in doing violence conciously and we both know that“ she remarks. When you turn to look at her, she's already looking at you.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“I think your mother would need to get her brain rearranged to even manage to admit you did something impressive“ she answers. She inclines her head your way.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>“Of course. You're fine and dandy“ she replies. Her tone has a certain undercurrent that tells you how much she believes you. She peeks over her shoulder at you.<</if>> <<if $haircut >>\ “I just didn't know you changed your look,” she remarks, looking at your hair. It's impossible to know if she likes it or not. <<elseif $piercing >>\ “What I didn't know is that you got a $piercing piercing,” she remarks. It's impossible to know if she likes it or not. <</if>>\ You two say nothing for a few moments. The soundlessness of the night being, contradictorily, loud enough. Anyone driving by could possibly mistake you two for friends. That's almost funny. She's a universe away from you. <<if $masturbationNia >>Being here with her, forces the memory of what you were doing last night to resurface. You move it somewhere else, hopefully never to see it again.<<elseif $nonfap >>Due to the history between you two, her presence does cause a reaction in you. Memories of years-long friendship can't be washed away as easily as you'd like.<<elseif $nonfap2Nia >>Being here with her, forces the memory of what you almost thought of doing last night to resurface. You take it away, lock it in the most deep part of you. You don't know if you'll ever take it out again.<</if>> <<set $niamovies to true>> “You caused a scene tonight“ Nia points out. Her eyes narrow slightly, but otherwise she doesn't seem to be poised for a fight. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Do you think it was on purpose?”->Page 236B]] * [[♡ “Fuck's sake. Do you have to blame me?”]] * [[⟡ “Unintenionally.”]] * [[“No, other people caused a scene.”]] * [[“I'm really not up for this, Nia.”]] </h3>

<h3> He was looking down at his boots when he glances up and meets your gaze. He looks surprised for a second but quickly covers it up with a scowl.<<if $vice is 'smoking'>> He makes a face when he sees the lit cigarette in your hand. He unscrews the cap of a small liquor bottle as he says “disgusting habit.” He moves to stand in line with you but makes sure to make it noticeable that he takes large steps away to create a space that could fit three people in between you.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>He eyes your flask, his lip curls. He takes out a crumpled cigarette pack and stuffs one into his mouth “kind of pathetic of you.” He maintains his distance.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>His eyes examine you, he stops when he notices your knuckles. He takes out a crumpled cigarette pack and plops one into his mouth. “What poor soul did your dumbass beat the shit out of?” he asks.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>He searches in his pockets and takes out a small liquor bottle. He uncaps it with his teeth and before he takes makes a move he says “so you're a junkie now.” He throws his head back and lets the whole contents of the bottle slide down his throat.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>He takes out a lighter in one hand and presumbly searches for cigarettes in the other. “Why the fuck are you standing like an idiot?” he asks. He pulls out the crumpled cigarette pack.<</if>><<set $lorcanmovies to true>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure I've seen you smoke“ you counter. He spills the contents of the bottle down his throat.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“Glass houses, isn't Alice's your second home?” you retort. He lights his cigarette and sucks in.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“Why can't you ever think that maybe someone hurt me instead?” you ask. Lorcan snorts. His face is illuminated by the flame of the lighter.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“Where ever did you get that idiotic idea from?” you ask, already thinking of who he heard it from. Lorcan screws the cap back on the bottle and throws it across the street.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>“What else can I be doing but standing? Y'know, a normal human thing that people do?” you snark. Instead of answering right away he lights his cigarette and walks until he's next to you, a considerable distance between you two.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>“Yeah well it's cool when I do it, you make everything look lame“ he replies. Somehow you notice he's closer than before. You don't think it was intentional. He doesn't look your way.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>“Even though it's none of your business, I go there for the pool“ he answers. He takes a few steps forward, coming up beside you, but with an obvious distance. His eyes avoid you.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>“Like hell anyone could ever fucking touch you“ he replies and adds “they'd probably catch something.” He comes up beside you but refuses to turn his gaze in your direction.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“Who else? Percy has a big mouth especially when he's drinking. He says you have some but you won't sell“ he informs. He's standing next you, close enough that if you reached out, your fingers could probably touch his coat.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>“That would make sense if you were a normal person, everything you do is fucking weird“ he snarks. His eyes flit to your face quickly and then look away.<</if>> <<if $haircut >>\ He looks at your hair and when he sees you looking his gaze glides away. Did he notice you dyed your hair? <<elseif $cutty >>\ “Did you always have your hair like that?” he asks and points. You bring a hand up to touch your hair, “no.” He lets his hand fall and says nothing else but he does stare. <<elseif $piercing >>\ “You're not cool just because you got a cool piercing,” he scoffs. You throw him a confused glance, “I'm not trying to be cool. I got it because I liked it.” He snorts. <</if>>\ You two say nothing for a few moments. The soundlessness of the night being, contradictorily, loud enough. Anyone driving by could possibly mistake you two for friends. Lorcan would probably be so offended by the implication he'd kill anyone who suggested it and then himself. <<if $masturbationLorcan >>His presence threatens to bring out that //thing// of last night and you quickly push it so far down that you never have to ever acknowledge it was ever there. You're good at forgetting traumatic bullshit.<<elseif $nonfap >>Knowing he's in close proximity annoys you, regardless of whether you want to amend your relationship or not, its a natural reaction to feel negative when he's around.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>His presence threatens to bring out that //thing// that nearly occurred last night. But you don't let it happen, you have experience erasing shit that could cause potential trauma.<</if>> “If you're thinking of leaving, tell me because I'm leaving and I don't want to walk the same way“ he says abruptly. He deigns to look you directly in the eyes. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Would it really be that bad?”->Page 236C]] * [[♡ “Please, you're such a pussy.”]] * [[⟡ “You could be kinder, you know.”]] * [[“There's strength in numbers.”]] * [[“Ugh, you're so dramatic.”]] </h3>

<h3> “I mean that's what you're known for right? The nicest boy-next-door,” you elaborate. <<set $ImreRF += 1>> Imre smiles at your response and shakes his head, “it does sound very boring and cliche when you say it like that.” You shrug and say “there's nothing bad or boring about being nice. Most people aren't nice, they're either in your face about it or lie.” The last part of your sentence makes Imre eye you. “Do you have a particular reason for saying that?” he asks, a glint in his eye. You raise an eyebrow, showing him you can play whatever game he's playing. “Do you have a particular reason for thinking I do?” Imre chuckles and looks away “answering my question with a question. If we both do that we'll spend the rest of the night talking.” You find yourself smiling as you look him up and down. As always he's dressed in clothes that are fit, ironed and compliment his skin. His signature scent of vanilla and leather warms your nose, he doesn't bathe in it like other boys. “You don't trust me much do you?” he asks. His voice isn't offended, his gaze is curious but easy. You feel slightly bad for being so obvious about it. It's not like you wouldn't like to trust him. But then you're confused as to why you want to trust him, he confuses you. The sensations he's envoking in you every time you meet makes you unsure of yourself. “No offense but you haven't given me much reason to. I'm also just a suspicious<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> bitch by nature.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> bastard by nature.”<</if>> Imre laughs and gives you a grin. You feel a weird flutter in your chest and promptly look away. “You're right, on both counts. Well I'll take on the challenge of getting you to trust me then“ he promises. “Actually, I'm here to see if you have any news on our case?” he asks. //Note: choose the second option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I was going to ask you that.”->Page 237]] * [[“Do you know who Candace was?”]] * [[“I went to go see Stephanie's body.”]] </h3>

<h3> “I've been questioned too much in the last month and all my life, and I've done too much questioning too“ you say. Imre smiles, his eyes lifeless. “You're right. But we are working on a case here aren't we? Good detective work demands insistance and resilience, does it not?” Your run a hand down your face before replying “yeah well clearly I'm a shitty detective. I don't know how they do it or how you do it to be so energetic and determined.” “Doesn't the prospect of solving a decades long mystery excite you at all? It certainly makes my days more interesting“ he confesses. You shake your head “because you see everything as a fun little game. A chess match. Right now I'm not in the mood to play. So please screw off with that insistance.” Imre picks a piece of lint off his shirt and says “I'm not your enemy. My insistance isn't meant to harm you. I apologize if it comes off that way.” “Fine. I don't care Imre“ you answer. You cross glances for a second and you look away. He probably doesn't like how iittle he dazzles you. You can't muster a tiny fuck about that. He manages not to yap on for a bit. By the way he checks his watch, looks down at his clothes to see if everything is in order and taps his foot you can tell how much this silence bothers him. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I really do hope you feel better $name. The world would be a far less fascinating place if a girl like you let herself fall into despair“ he murmurs.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I really do hope you feel better $name. The world would be a far less fascinating place if a boy like you let himself fall into despair“ he murmurs.<</if>> You don't say anything. His words glide over you like water. He's a stranger, he could never make you feel better. You don't even know if you appreciate that he tried. You do know that you wish you were alone. Eventually Imre looks from you to the doors, most likely thinking of an excuse to leave, realizing that at least tonight you two won't get far with your investigation. Before he can make up a lie the doors behind you to open and reveal Nia. She spots Imre and walks over, her eyes briefly flickering to you as she comes up next to him. Before she can say anything to him, Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “That it does, that it does“ Imre agrees. [[NEXT->Page 238]] </h3>

<h3> “Can we just— can you just not? Not right now“ you stammer out. Imre looks surprised. You can't even feel satisfaction at the fact that you've stumped him. You just feel tired and easily irritated. He can go to hell with his performance. “Al...right“ he says “I guess you've had a day.” You give him a look to show him how much of a day you've had and promptly look away. You hear the crunches of car wheels on the pavement, the distant noises of the auditoriums inside and constant movement that Imre makes. He doesn't seem to like not talking. But he does try to not disturb you. You don't know how long you two stay like that. You don't check your watch but Imre does check his, it's a big watch. Very noticeable and you somehow have remembered that he's worn it since forever, even when it would slide off his thin wrist. Eventually Imre looks from you to the doors, most likely thinking of an excuse to leave, realizing that at least tonight you two won't get far with your investigation. Before he can make up a lie the doors behind you to open and reveal Nia. She spots Imre and walks over, her eyes briefly flickering to you as she comes up next to him. Before she can say anything to him, Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “That it does, that it does“ Imre agrees. [[NEXT->Page 238]] </h3>

<h3>“You're here to put on that plastic smile of yours that you think makes you look sweet but actually makes me think you're a Stepford wife,“ you claim. Imre pauses, gives you a look and retorts, “you're one to talk. Your eyes alone tend to scare people.” You snort and roll your shoulders as you think of something to say in this mini-verbal battle. “Well I'm not the one aiming to do an imitation of Bob Ross, a poorly one at that.”<<set $ImreRA += 1>> “I'm partially offended that you would ever think I'm aiming to grow a white man's afro,“ he banters. You let out an exaggerated sigh before answering, “stop trying to be cute, it makes my skin crawl.” You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. His eyes narrow as a smirk creeps on his face, “one, that's physically impossible and two, you're a very bad liar.” You lips quirk and you roll them to prevent any ambush attacks from smiles. Instead of replying you focus on his clothes. As always he's dressed in clothes that are fit, ironed and compliment his skin. His signature scent of vanilla and leather warms your nose, he doesn't bathe in it like other boys. “So are you like this with everyone who tries to be nice to you or am I special?” he asks. The expression on his face is kind but his tone sounds a bit irritated. You don't know whether he means your rudeness or your suspicion, likely both as one influences the other. You don't feel wrong for it though, he sets off your alarm bells. Alarm bells that tell you it's best to keep away from him, especially since he causes odd sensations in you, ones you've never felt and that unbalance you. “Look I don't care that much about whether I offend you or not but a <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>crazy bitch's senses never fail and you seem faker than snake oil.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>crazy fuck's senses never fail and you seem faker than snake oil.” <</if>> Imre's smirk tightens at the ends and his eyes hardly blink, boring into yours. You look away, making sure you look bored but you can feel his eyes on you and it makes your ears heat up. “I appreciate the honesty, at least now I know what I'm working with. I can adapt to you,“ he declares. “Moving along, I came out here to talk about the case. Do you have anything new?” he asks. //Note: choose the second option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I was going to ask you that.”->Page 237]] * [[“Do you know who Candace was?”]] * [[“I went to go see Stephanie's body.”]] </h3>

<h3> “Let me play your game,“ you add with a casual smile. He gives you a confused look, “a game? Would you call, coming out here because I'm worried about a friend, sinister?” You snort and answer “I didn't say it was sinister but from the little I know of you, you seem to be the type to always do something for a reason.” Imre shakes his head and smiles at the sky. <<set $ImreP += 1>> “However that may be, you didn't refute that we're friends,“ he claims. You sigh and look up at the sky too. Maintaining your gaze above you, you say, “I think we're a few conversations short of friendship.” Imre hums and you feel his eyes on your face, “don't worry, we'll have them if we keep seeing each other as frequently as we have in the last month.” You don't refute or confirm that. It's not like you're the expert on friendship. Your eyes take notice of his clothes. He's the best dressed boy in town, probably because he can afford it but a lot of boys in town are rich too and they dress as if they were in the dark. “By graduation we might even be the best of friends. I'll even write a smiley face on your yearbook. That's how much you'll trust and like me,“ he declares in a cheeky tone. You quirk your eyebrow at him. He's confidence is either due to surety or arrogance. You can never tell with him, he says everything with earnestness. A powerful friend to have but also an enemy. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Nia might get jealous if I take her spot as your number one girl friend,“ you joke. Imre laughs.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Me being your number one boy friend, a coveted spot indeed,“ you joke. Imre laughs.<</if>> Somehow, all the lingering tension that you had from what happened in the theatre, dissipates. At least he managed to do that. Your mouth moves into a small smile Imre doesn't see. “Ok, now that I see you're ok, I have to ask... any breakthroughs on our case?” //Note: choose the second option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I was going to ask you that.”->Page 237]] * [[“Do you know who Candace was?”]] * [[“I went to go see Stephanie's body.”]] </h3>

<h3> She takes a moment to drop her cigarette and squish it with tip of her red boots. “I don't. It's a by-product of being you, Birdie. The people who least want attention always get it“ she answers.<<set $NiaRF += 1>> Your lip twitches and you speak before she notices it “it would suit you. You know how to wear attention pretty well.” Nia moves a curl away from her forehead “there's a trick to it. If you aren't born with it than you need to bear it and it'll soon look like it's meant to be worn by you. Most people are so insecure they flock to the one who hides it better.” “Are you trying to tell me you're insecure Nia Mir?” you ask, a tiny unbelieving smirk to your lips. She looks ahead of her, her face impassive but something about her tells you she seems to be interested enough in the conversation. “I think you're projecting, $name Crown.” You look away, doing your best to remain as nonchalant as she's being, that's why you can't look her in the eyes yet. She stands out in her emerald green outfit, she likes wearing colours that draw other's eyes to her. It's elegant but never flashy. The taste of old money. “We haven't talked much“ you mention in an offhanded way, looking down at your nails. Since Nia doesn't wear her heart of her sleeve it can be difficult to know how she'll react. But she must have been expecting you to point out the giant elephant in the room, or rather in the space between you. But she probably didn't think you'd get right to it, it thrills you to possibly impress her. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“No I guess we haven't. If you're suggesting it's only my fault I'd have to correct you there. You're a petty and resentful girl like me.” Nia has a way of saying what could be offensive things as if they were facts that no one could contest.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“No I guess we haven't. If you're suggesting it's only my fault I'd have to correct you there. Boys can be as petty and resentful as girls.” Nia has a way of saying what could be offensive things as if they were facts that no one could contest.<</if>> Your heart beats quickly as she didn't say she doesn't want to not speak to you. There's a chance. “And people used to say you and I had nothing in common“ you joke. “People don't regularly wash their ears“ she replies. “I've heard that you and Imre have been talking“ she says. The implication is that she wants you to tell her what you two have been doing. //Note: choose the second option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I'm surprised he hasn't told you.”->Page 237B]] * [[“What can you tell me about Candace?”]] * [[“So, you're not going to ask about Stephanie?”]] </h3>

<h3> “They always do. If people left me alone everyone would be better for it“ you answer slightly miffed. Nia stares at her cigarette “you're most likely right. But when have people not stopped to stare at a car crash?” Your roll your eyes and say “never. So if you don't want your time ruined the best course of action would be for you to stay away from me.” “Who says I don't like car crashes, Birdie?” she asks, tapping on her cigarette. You give her a look “and who says I want to be perceived. If you had an inch of regard for me you'd fuck off too.” She blows out smoke, her eyes penetrating yours from behind the misty curls. “Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that my regard makes me stay?” “Yeah, whatever“ you sigh. You feel her eyes on you but you don't look, too tired to really get into it with her right now. It's been a draining night. She doesn't say anything and you don't either. The silence is much more comforting than any talking either of you could do. It'd only bring up stressful memories and a conversation you're not keen to have at this moment. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You're a resilient girl“ she says. Her tone holding no warmth, as if she were stating an unrefutable truth. You stare at her, expressionless.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're a resilient boy“ she says. Her tone holding no warmth, as if she were stating an unrefutable truth. You stare at her, expressionless.<</if>> This is probably the least stressful conversation you've had since you came back. The bar is in hell though because even being near Nia makes you tense. You wish she would just leave. Maybe you should. Eventually Nia drops her cigarette and squishes it. Just in time for the doors behind you to open and reveal Imre. He spots Nia and walks over to her, nodding at you as he comes up next to her. Before he can say anything Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “The universe doesn't care enough about us“ Nia asserts. [[NEXT->Page 238B]] </h3>

<h3> “It's been a really awful night“ you say, your voice showing your exhaustion. Nia breathes smoke out of her nose and observes you. You can't even muster enough care that her cold attention is directed to you. “I'm not doing anything, Birdie. But if you want we don't have to talk“ she offers. You don't answer but you take her up on that and stare at nothing with your mouth shut. You hear the crunches of car wheels on the pavement, the distant noises of the auditoriums inside and the burning of the tobacco every time Nia inhales. She does you the courtesy of blowing the other way. You don't know how long you two stay like that. You don't check your watch and Nia not only prefers long cigarettes but smokes slowly. It's funny how you can forget things about yourself but you remember that. Eventually Nia drops her cigarette and squishes it. Just in time for the doors behind you to open and reveal Imre. He spots Nia and walks over to her, nodding at you as he comes up next to her. Before he can say anything Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “The universe doesn't care enough about us“ Nia asserts. [[NEXT->Page 238B]] </h3>

<h3> She takes a moment to drop her cigarette and squish it with tip of her red boots. “For fuck's sake, do you have to think everything I say is an attack against you? You aren't that important for me to want to fight with you.” You grind your teeth and think of hundreds of names to call her in your head. “If I'm not that important than why the hell are you here with me?” you spit. Nia snorts and throws her hair over her shoulder “I'm not 'here with you.' I wanted a cigarette and so I went outside. You just happen to be here too. Really, you're making too much out of a coincidence.” <<set $NiaRA += 1>> “You don't do coincidences my dear old friend. Maybe you're here to try and humillate me like your friends did the first day of school“ you retort. She whips her head in your direction and with a sly smile says “nobody ever manages to humillate you as you do yourself. In that area I would lose for the first time ever, my dear Birdie.” Her eyes travel to your hands which are currently digging into your pants. Not wanting to be the only one examined like a lab rat you make a show of observing her too. She's wearing an emerald dress. She likes wearing colours that draw other's eyes to her. It's elegant but never flashy. It annoys you how good she looks. “In being a fucking cunt you never lose“ you mumble. Your eyes flicker to her face and she looks away. From the side of her face you think you see a smile. Or maybe not. Since Nia doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve it can be difficult to know how she'll react. She could be impressed, you two have fought in the past, but you've never been so cruel and aggressive with it. You're even more annoyed that you care if you impress her. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Stop pouting. You're the only girl in town who has //le cran// to stand up to me. It's almost admirable, very strong feminist of you“ she says. You just shake your head and she makes a sound that almost sounds like a laugh.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Stop pouting. You're the only boy in town who has //le cran// to stand up to me. It's almost admirable. Not exactly feminist of you but who cares“ she says. You just shake your head and she makes a sound that almost sounds like a laugh.<</if>> You try to ignore the little twitch your stomach makes because she found something you did... well maybe not cute but funny. “I'm glad I amuse you so much Nia Mir“ you voice drips in sarcasm. “Yes, thank you for that. Leaving that aside, I've heard that you and Imre have been talking“ she says. The implication is that she wants you to tell her what you two have been doing. //Note: choose the third option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I'm surprised he hasn't told you.”->Page 237B]] * [[“What can you tell me about Candace?”]] * [[“So, you're not going to ask about Stephanie?”]] </h3>

<h3> “If you still remember how I am, you'd know it was not on purpose,“ you say. Nia taps on her cigarette and saysm “I don't forget anything. I wasn't accusing you by the way. It was a statement. A neutral one, Birdie.” Your face twitches when you hear that name. So many memories. “Did you come out here to check on me then? Or to engage in your regular activity of seducing cancer,“ you ask, nudging your head to her cigarette. “If you still remember how I am, you'd know the answer,“ she says with a cheeky tone. You sigh and look at the street in front of you. “I don't know if I miss your way of giving non-answers to everything or not.” You hear the crackle of the tobacco and see a cloud of smoke float towards the street, “I might've learned that from you. You're not exactly the most open person $name,“ she says. “Huh,“ you say. Which ironically proves her right. Truth be told while on the outside you two might not have much in common, certainly traits are shared. You don't know who rubbed off on who. Neither of you talk for a few minutes. You two have always found it comfortable to fall into silence. No anxiety about keeping up conversation that others seem to have. Companiable silence is a rarity many don't give you. You don't think they give it to her either. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“So, in my absence, do you have a new girl bestfriend or is my spot indefinitely reserved,“ you ask. Nia drops her cigarette and stomps on it.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“So, in my absence, do you have a new guy bestfriend or is my spot indefinitely reserved,“ you ask. Nia drops her cigarette and stomps on it.<</if>> You had begun to feel calmer from your experience in the theatre but right now your heart speeds up. You don't like this reaction. You don't understand it. It's not like it's the end of the world. <<set $NiaP += 1>> “I'll answer that question another day. Right now, what I find more interesting is that you and Imre have been talking,“ she says. The implication is that she wants you to tell her what you two have been doing. //Note: choose the third option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“I'm surprised he hasn't told you.”->Page 237B]] * [[“What can you tell me about Candace?”]] * [[“So, you're not going to ask about Stephanie?”]] </h3>

<h3> “Am I really that bad to be around?” you ask, already knowing his answer but maybe hoping he'll surprise you. Lorcan gives you an incredulous look “what do you think? Have you ever spent any amount of time with someone like //you//?” Your mouth moves into a small smile “actually I have, I was locked up with about fifty other people who just like me are crazy twenty-four-seven.” Lorcan gives you a look, clearly unamused but doesn't respond. You clear your throat, your mind trying to come up with something to say because you know he won't. “If you're going to leave early why did you come?” you inquire. His eyebrows rise and lower quickly. He says “I don't know. Why does anyone do anything? To do things.” You give him a puzzled look which he imitates. Your eyes travel from his face to his clothes, he always wears the same leather jacket. It's so old his elbow pokes out from a ripped section of his sleeve. His boots are dirty and he has an ever present smell of tobacco on him. But it's not unpleasant, it smells spicy with hints of cinnamon. You wonder what he smokes. “I heard that the pretty boy is asking around about that girl they found at your house and the ones that are still missing“ Lorcan discloses. Your eyes widen. You keep wondering how Lorcan seems to know things. Naturally because of your past you don't trust him. But for some confusing and contradictory reason you want him to tell you things, to talk to you, to see him. “You either have magical abilites, are a very good spy or a stalker.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> As the resident creepy girl in town, you're my male equivalent.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Looks like there's two resident creepy boys.”<</if>> Lorcan lets out a noise from his throat, the sound you make when it's itchy and you want to alleviate it. “Spare me the 'we're alike you and I' talk. It's there and I don't want to look at it“ he says. He avoids your eyes and looks away. It looks... cute. Your eyes widen and you look away too. “Anyway... are you two like working together or is it bull?” he asks. <hr>\ * [[“Why? Do you care?”->Page 237C]] * [[“Sure. Does the name Candace ring any bells?”]] * [[“That's not important. Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”]] </h3>

<h3> “Although my arms aren't really guns and you're more bone than person“ you deadpan. Lorcan spits on the ground next to you and says “maybe we should walk together, whoever attacks us can take you on and I'll run while they rob your ass.” You pinch the bridge of your nose “you know what Lorcan? This isn't fun anymore. Can you just fucking leave me alone? Like seriously disappear from my life.” “You think I like seeing you? You're not the only one that suffers when we run into each other“ he replies between gritted teeth. You just shake your head and stare at nothing. “Then why are you still here? Why did you follow me home the other day? Do a better job of wiping yourself from my orbit.” You hear a rustling and you think he might've finally listened to you but when you glance back at his spot he's still standing there. He balances himself on his heels a desolate look on his face. When he notices you looking it turns into a grimace. “Fuck you so much Crown. You don't know how much“ he whispers. His words have no strength behind them. It's always the same with him anyway. You both go in circles and it not only bores you but it alternatively pisses you off that you can't get rid of him. It takes two to tango. He hasn't been fighting this years-long war alone, has he? If you didn't correspond this wouldn't keep happening. Or maybe it would, he does fucking hate you. Surprisingly, he doesn't speak again. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Hopefully one day he'll realize there isn't anything cool about fighting with a mentally fucked girl.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Hopefully one day he'll realize there isn't anything cool about fighting with a mentally fucked boy.<</if>> Lorcan lets out a frustrated sigh and whips his head in your direction. No, not to you but over your shoulder. He's thinking of finally leaving. He takes a step to leave when the doors of the theatre open and Imre and Nia both walk out, arms linked. They're both in conversation. “I don't think—“ Nia begins to say when she spots you two. Imre is already looking from you to Lorcan and back, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “It's a little bitch for that“ Lorcan huffs. [[NEXT->Page 238C]] </h3>

<h3> “At least for tonight can we not do the horse and pony show? It's cold and it's late“ you claim. Lorcan spits on the ground next to you and says “I'm sorry, does the little baby want to be coddled?” You close your eyes and swallow “things are impossible with you.” He laughs derisively and begins one of his long rants. You tune all of it out. It's not like anything horrible he says about you is new. You hear the crunches of car wheels on the pavement, the distant noises of the auditoriums inside and constant rustling of clothes as Lorcan gesticulates passionately about all your faults. You eventually go to the phone booth a few feet away from the ticket booth and dial the house, hoping Sally has gone there to do work in the office or that Arthur is there. The phone rings but no one picks up. Your brother needs to hire better staff. You hang up and walk back to the front of the theatre. Lorcan is red in the face, silently glaring at you as he realized you left him to rant like a lunatic alone. He seems to be about to say something when the doors of the theatre open and Imre and Nia both walk out, arms linked. They're both in conversation. “I don't think—“ Nia begins to say when she spots you two. Imre is already looking from you to Lorcan and back, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “It's a little bitch for that“ Lorcan huffs. [[NEXT->Page 238C]] </h3>

<h3> “As if your ass doesn't cry at jumpscares“ you ridicule. You feel a sharp smile stretch on your lips. Lorcan glares at you, one of his hands shaking “I wasn't crying you fucking animal.” His reaction makes you laugh. You turn, your body completely facing him “oh so you hugging your girlfriend and refusing to let go, was what?” Lorcan shoves you with one hand, you laugh delightedly and shove him right back. His teeth grit together and face starts twitching, a deep red spreading throughout his pale features. “Has anyone ever told you that the world would be a better place if you were fucking dead?” he spits. You grin and give the middle finger “I think that can be said for both of us dickhead.” He growls and seems ready to tackle you. Unperturbed, you take a moment to look down at him. He always wears the same leather jacket. It's so old his elbow pokes out from a ripped section of his sleeve. His boots are dirty and he has an ever present smell of tobacco on him. But it doesn't smell bad, it smells spicy with hints of cinnamon. Thinking better of it, Lorcan rolls his neck and relunctantly splays his fingers out, as an attempt to prevent them from curling. “So you and pretty boy have teamed up or something?” Your grin drops. You keep wondering how Lorcan seems to know things. Naturally because of your past you don't trust him. But for some confusing and contradictory reason you like how he seems to one up you. Because that means you can too. An interesting challenge. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Are you fucking spying on me? You know if you want to get a girl's attention, flowers would suffice“ you snark.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Are you fucking spying on me? You know if you want to get a guy's attention, flowers would suffice“ you snark.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan snorts, but quickly scowls. “You'd be the last girl I'd ever be into, Crown. If I ever am, slap me.” He actually smirks then.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>. Lorcan snorts, but quickly scowls. “I'm not into guys anyway and if I was you'd be the last guy in the world, Crown. If I ever am, slap me.” He actually smirks then.”<</if>> “I'd slap you for even breathing but it's good to have the permission of the idiot offering it“ you reply. If he didn't hate you, the smile he has on his face could be confused by anyone to be directed at you. His smile really does compliment his face nicely. Your eyes widen and you look away. “Anyway... are you two like seriously working together or is it bull?” he asks. //Note: choose the first option when you want to end the conversation// <hr>\ * [[“Why? Do you care?”->Page 237C]] * [[“Sure. Does the name Candace ring any bells?”]] * [[“That's not important. Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”]] </h3>

<h3> “That whole 'I'm so badass, I'll fucking kill you' schtick is unconvincing,“ you say with a smile. He squints at you and replies, “it's not a schtick if it's real. Any-fucking-way you've earned it.” You roll your eyes and say, “I admit I haven't been the kindest to you in the past but we're adults now, right? Shouldn't we move on from 'this'?” you motion to him and you. “Easy for you to say. I haven't done to you what you did to me asshole,“ he mumbles, a sullen look on his face. <<set $LorcanP += 1>> You sigh heavily and think of what to say. ”So what? You want to continue like this until we both drop dead?” you ask, imagining you and Lorcan in a nursing home, bickering. Lorcan crosses his arms and stares down at the pavement, “since lunatics rarely live long full lives you'll probably die before I do so I won't have to wait long.” You don't contest that. He's not right about all people like you, but in your individual case, you do have a tendency to get into violent and dangerous situations. You look at his pale elbow sticking out his leather jacket, it's been torn forever. “You don't keep out of trouble either. We could very well die at the same time or close enough. And isn't that a mark of true enemies? If you were nicer it could be a mark of true friendship,“ you jest. “Ugh,“ he says. He looks at you and says, “so have you and pretty boy teamed up or something?” Your eyesbrows rise. You keep wondering how Lorcan seems to know things. Of course he'd never tell you anything. Maybe if you keep trying to be friendly to him, he'd actually crack, either from forgiving you or because he short circuits. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I'll tell you if you tell me how where you got that intel from,“ you propose. “Or you can be a gentleman to a lady and tell me for free.” Lorcan curls his lip at that.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I'll tell you if you tell me how where you got that intel from,“ you propose. “Or you can be a boy's boy and tell me for free.” Lorcan curls his lip at that.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I can be a gentlemen, but I don't see a lady,“ he says with a smirk. You smirk right back at him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're a boy? I thought you're mom had birthed a demon,“ he says with a smirk. You smirk right back at him.<</if>> Oddly enough, this back and forth has calmed you down from that business in the theatre. He's actually useful for something. Pigs might start flying tomorrow. “Anyway... are you two like working together or is it bull?” he asks. <hr>\ * [[“Why? Do you care?”->Page 237C]] * [[“Sure. Does the name Candace ring any bells?”]] * [[“That's not important. Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”]] </h3>

<h3> “No, if I had anything I would've told you. That's why I haven't felt there was any need to talk to you,” he answers swiftly. You give him an exaggerated nod, “ah, now I see. Is this how you plan to gain my trust? By not talking to me unless it furthers your aims?” He laughs, running a hand through his curls, “I think it's counterproductive to bother you. I feel as if that would make you dislike me all the more.” “Oh,” you say and look away, a smile trying to show itself on your face. You push it down.”And how do you know you'd be bothering me? Do you know me that well already?” <<set $wally to true>> He shrugs. “It just seems obvious you're the type of person to not like talkers, unfortunately for you I am one. Some call it 'liking to hear myself talk' but I prefer thinking that I'm a rather interesting person.” That makes you snort and stare at him incredulously, “humble too?” He nods “very. And handsome, you can't forget that.” “Of course not.” He grins at you and you try to not show how much you're enjoying this conversation. His ego is already too inflated. “You know, I actually learned how much you hate talkers from Nia. She always told me that I could never get you to like me. I feel rather dim for listening to her, we could've started this up years ago,” he says. Your eyebrows knit together, “Nia never said anything to me. What is 'this' exactly?” you motion between the two of you. Imre doesn't respond, he just keeps smiling at you. You feel like you're under a microscope. He never gives too much away, expecting you to do so. If he's quickly being able to read you, you're gaining the same skill with him. Maybe not a chess game. But a seesaw. Right now he's safe on the ground. <hr>\ <<if $candace>>* ==“Anyway, do you know who Candace was?”==<<elseif not $candace>>* [[“Anyway, do you know who Candace was?”->“Do you know who Candace was?”]]<</if>>\ * [[“I went to go see Stephanie's body.”]] </h3>

<h3> “How do you know about Candace?” he inquires. You turn yourself to face him and he does the same. His face looks confused but apart from that you can't tell what he means. “So you do, you knew that there was a girl called Candace who died before Stephanie and you didn't think it was a good idea to tell me?” <<set $candace2 to true>> Imre closes his eyes for a moment, moving his tongue behind his bottom lip. He opens his eyes, the confused look gone and replaced by something resembling a mix between repent and dejection. Two things that look wrong on his face. “Ok. You're right I didn't tell you. I should've but we didn't have time to talk that much that day in the library and we haven't talked at all in weeks. Whenever we would've actually met up and compared notes I promised I would've told you,” he explains. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You search his face, trying to see any cracks in his armour. Imre is a very good charmer and his lying skills must be unmatched because no matter how hard you look you don't see an insincerity. “Alright, well I'm here now. Good a time as any to tell me anything you know about her, basically whatever questions we have about Stephanie, I want to know about Candace,” you say. Imre cups his chin and knits his eyebrows together, his eyes seeing something else. He looks up. “She might've been a grade below us. No one knew she was missing until she showed up at the fair, she was in a bad way. Never would've survived those injuries,” he claims. You hum and look down at your feet. Nothing. Just like Stephanie there's nothing to go on apart from the fact they were girls.<<if not $sbtwo>>“Do you know if she had any marks on her. Like deliberate ones, carved in?” you ask. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Anything else you want to ask me?” Imre inquiries.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Imre's eyebrows rise in interest. “Deliberate marks? Why? No I didn't hear of any such thing. To be honest I wasn't that focused on this case before you came along.”<<elseif $stephanie>>Imre's eyebrows rise in interest. “Do you think she could've had the same marks that you found on Stephanie's body? And no I don't know, to be honest I wasn't that focused on this case before you came along.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You shake your head. “Seems like we can't leave square one“ you sigh. Imre doesn't say anything but he looks annoyed, probably feeling as impotent as you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You look at him, he seems lost in thought. Probably didn't give much thought to what he said. “I just thought I might've had a lead for a moment, something that could tell us more. Looks like we have nothing.”<<elseif $stephanie >>You look at him, he seems lost in thought. Probably didn't give much thought to what he said. “I do think that. We'll probably never know now. But if we could somehow find out what this mark is maybe we could get a clue of why these girls are dying for“ you say hopefully.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>But his face relaxes and he defaults back to his easy smile. “We've barely begun. I'm sure we actually get ourselves organized and we'll have something concrete.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Don't be so pessimistic. We've barely begun. Someone must know something we just need to talk to the right person“ he assures. You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him.<<elseif $stephanie>>“We will. We'll find something, as all great mysteries all that is needed is to find a thread to pull“ he assures you. You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him. Imre always does manage to get what he wants anyway, so he might be right.<</if>> You two both stare at each other, not saying a word. At least tonight you two won't get far with your investigation. You two are interrupted by the front doors of the cinema noisely opening. Nia struts out and she makes a direct beeline for Imre. Her eyes briefly flickering to you as she comes up next to him. Before she can say anything to him, Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “That it does, that it does“ Imre agrees. [[NEXT->Page 238]] </h3>

<h3>“You did?” You make an affirmative sound in your throat. “I figured that there might be some clues there. Apart from the severe mutilation of her corpse.” He gets a glint of excitement in his eyes, a glint that reminds you of yourself when faced with horrific but exciting news about all this. “And?” he asks. <<set $stephanie to true>> <<if $sbtwo>>You let out a deflated exhale “and nothing. Well, no. There was something. Something on her body. On her stomach. But it's hardly a concrete lead, Imre.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You let out a deflated exhale, “no. I didn't have time to see her. It's not easy sneaking in there and taking your time.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>He still has the same spark of life in his face, the news not fazing him at all. “Tell me, I might be able to make heads or tails of it“ he offers.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>His lips quirk and he says, “no I imagine not. Although it makes for a very exciting time. You should've invited me.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“It looked like someone used a knife on her to cut in a symbol. Fuck, I don't even know if it's a symbol because it cuts off. It looked weird, it looked like it could be important,” you say.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Yeah sure. I'll call you the next time I decide to go desecrate bodies,” you snark.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Imre considers this for a moment and asks “is it a mark you've ever seen before?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Imre smirks and shoves his hands into his pockets.<</if>> You shake your head. The light in Imre's eyes dims a bit but not completely. <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“We need to find something soon $name because every day that passes you could be in danger“ he stresses. Just your luck, you're a girl. As if your life wasn't hard enough already without being the target type of a murderer.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.' >>“Neither you or I are in any danger. At least from the evidence we have it has only killed women. Even so, it might not like that we're poking around. We might be targets just for being in the way“ he theorizes. A small voice protests this, you're in danger too, you're not like Imre or the other boys in town. You're like Nia... you push this thought to the side for now.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“Neither you or I are in any danger. At least from the evidence we have it has only killed women. Even so, it might not like that we're poking around. We might be targets just for being in the way“ he theorizes. Just your luck, even being a boy won't save you.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“We need to find something soon $name because every day that passes you could be in danger,” he stresses. A small voice protests this, you're not in danger, you're not like Nia or the other girls in town. You're like him... you push this thought to the side for now.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“Everyday that passes you must be in danger right? I can't particularly tell but I wouldn't discard you to safety,” he speculates. Just so. You look down at yourself.If Imre can't figure you out... it somehow pleases you that you don't like like a man or woman.<</if>> Imre and you engage in a silent conversation. Your eyes not leaving the other's. <hr>\ * [[“Do you know who Candace was?”]] <<if $wally>>* ==“Any news of your own to share?”==<<elseif not $wally>>* [[“Any news of your own to share?”->Page 237]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3>“Believe it or not Imre doesn't tell me everything. He tells me important things, things that could affect me but not his own things“ she replies. You give her a shocked look “no? Really? I thought you two were the best of friends, platonic soulmates, Thelma and Louise in the flesh.” She smiles at you, the sickly sweet kind. “Is that jealousy I hear?” You scoff and look away, completely and totally unbothered. So unbothered. As if. “Please, we're not in 1992. Things have changed and you're not the center of my universe anymore“ you answer. “Oh“ she says, you can hear the smile in her voice. “Anymore? So that means I once was.” <<set $butter to true>> You straighten your back and focus on a tree planted in a square on the sidewalk across the street from you. “You were my only friend in the world. Obviously that made you very important“ you acquiesce. The only response to what you said is the ambient noises of the town at this hour of the night. “Be careful with Imre“ Nia advises. You look at her and she's looking at her own reflection in the window before she slowly looks at you. “And with anything he ropes you into,” she emphasizes. You blink at her. “Why?” “Just be careful,” she reiterates. The look on her face tells you she won't elaborate. <hr>\ * [[“So, you're not going to ask about Stephanie?”]] <<if $candace>>* ==“What can you tell me about Candace?”==<<elseif not $candace>>* [[“What can you tell me about Candace?”]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3> “Candace who?” she asks. You move closer to her, wanting to get a better view of her face, even though you know that with someone like her it's useless. “Apparently she was before Stephanie, dead too,” you say. <<set $candace to true>> She looks at the storefront across from you, the windows reflecting you and her. You don't know if the pause is due to her trying to figure out what to say or if she's trying to remember.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Oh yes, her. Where is there to say? She dragged herself from god-knows-where and ruined the fair by collapsing in the middle of it. You can read it in the papers from June in the library,” she says drily. You would almost think her narcissistic but it is true that a girl dying in the middle of the fair does ruin it. She just has a heartless way of saying it. “Did you know her at all? Ever talked to her? Heard any rumors or theories on who could've killed her or how they killed her?” you ask. To each question she shakes her head no, except for the last one. She gives you a pointed look and says, “obviously she died due to her injuries. Her foot was cut off, her eyes was missing, she was bleeding so profusely it was hard to tell what wasn't an injury.” You look towards the storefront, you see your eyebrows pinch together. <<if $sbtwo>> “Did you see or hear from anyone if she had any lines on her?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>> “Ok so you're basically a deadend here?” <</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You see Nia turn to look at you from the reflection of the window, “lines? What kind of lines?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You see Nia turn to look at you from the reflection of the window, “I don't know why you would ever think I wouldn't be.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You meet her look. “Kind of like carvings? Not the lines that come from scratches, something probably done with a knife,” you theorize.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You meet her look, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. “The Nia Mir doesn't know something color me surprised,” you tease. Nia rolls her eyes at you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Her eyes don't waver from yours, blinking ocassionally but without speaking for what seems like one minute. “Why are you asking me this?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Silence once again.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You begin to answer but she interrupts you “you know what? I don't want to know. But no, I don't know of any carvings of any kind on any bodies and I don't want to know.” There's a finality to her tone that tells you to move on.\<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You decide to try something else.<</if>> <hr>\ <<if $butter>>* ==“Anyway... Imre hasn't told you what we're doing?”==<<elseif not $butter>>* [[“Anyway... Imre hasn't told you what we're doing?”->Page 237B]]<</if>>\ * [[“So, you're not going to ask about Stephanie?”]] </h3>

<h3> “Why would I ask you about that?” You shrug and say, “well we did all find her body. We were all questioned by the police and you know I was at the hospital to go to the morgue.” She has the most uninterested look on her face, you've seen her get like this when she would retell any of Imre's paranormal interests or in English class. “So? That has nothing to do with me. I'm not the police and I don't care to shove my nose in all that. I prefer to worry about me, being a girl I am a target“ she says. <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“I'm a girl too. I'm a target. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I don't know if whatever is out there cares much about guys like me but maybe I might be in danger too. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter. You feel that same distaste in your mouth as you always have when calling yourself a man.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“Ok, I don't know what that's like. I'm not the preferred victim but since you're a girl wouldn't you want to get to the bottom of this? To save yourself in the future?” you counter.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I'm a girl too. I'm a target. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter. You feel that same distaste in your mouth as you always have when calling yourself a woman.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“Fine, I don't know if whatever this murderer is cares much about genders or not. Whatever is between my legs could either fuck me or not. But if I was a girl like you, I might want to figure all this out to prevent my early death“ you counter. You hate how stupid this all is, as if genitalia should put us in a box.<</if>> Nia shakes her head incredulously “don't you see that it could do the opposite? That getting involved in this could put you and me directly in its line of vision?” You sigh and accept that it could. “The police aren't doing anything Nia. You could be dead either way,“ you say. She just looks at you. The doors behind you open and Imre comes out. He spots Nia and comes over, nodding at you as he comes up next to her. Before he can say anything Lorcan barrels out from the doors and stops short when he says the three of you. He takes a few steps forward but pauses, maintaining a wide space between him and you. “The universe likes repeating itself,“ you mumble. “The universe doesn't care enough about us,“ Nia asserts. [[NEXT->Page 238B]] </h3>

<h3> “One, it's strange and two, anything that could benefit you is a rock in my shoe. Now that I'm thinking about it there's a third“ he explains. You give him a measured look and say “knowing how much you like not giving me the satisfaction I'm guessing you won't tell me the third reason.” He replies with a pleasant smile, too sharp to be considered genuine “you do know me so well Crown.” You look away, trying to tame your growing impatience. Talking to Lorcan is like trying to get a monkey to speak English. “You seemed pretty unconcerned with this case the last time I saw you“ you consider. “You're not the only one allowed to do new shit y'know“ he counters. “I'm not as clueless as you, I know things. Maybe now I care.” You roll your lips, grateful that you don't have to look into his eyes right now. It's an awkward topic. “There's only one thing in the world that could get you to care about anything“ you murmur. In your blurry peripheral you think Lorcan might be looking away too. That night at the manor he was desperate, the enormity of //her// could be understated, probably not even thought of. But not in this still moment. She seems to big now. Larger than life. Larger than death. In between you two. “Does it matter what for?” he says a low tone. He might not even be talking to you. You move your head to face him when the doors of the theatre open and Imre and Nia both walk out, arms linked. They're both in conversation. “I don't think—“ Nia begins to say when she spots you two. Imre is already looking from you to Lorcan and back, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “The universe likes repeating itself“ you mumble. “It's a little bitch for that“ Lorcan huffs. [[NEXT->Page 238C]] </h3>

<h3> “Who the hell is Candace?” he asks tartly. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You give him a penetrating look while he looks puzzled. “She was the dead girl of the town before Stephanie... she got the fair cancelled... does this really not sound at all familiar to you?” you ask as you see him looking more lost, the more you say. He looks up and rolls his tongue around his mouth, his thinking face. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, what's the point if he can't see it? His eyes lower and his face takes on that perpentual scowl it always does with you. “Yeah, I totally fucking forgot that happened. It actually pissed me off because I didn't even get to win anything. And!“ he emphasizes when he sees you're about to ask something, “no I don't know shit. I never talked to her, I didn't know she was missing and I don't know what happened to her after.” Your eyes narrow as you search his face for any deceit. Lorcan bristles at your attention and looks away, still annoyed but also not comfortable with you looking so intensely at him. You can't tell if he's lying or not. Usually it's very easy to know when he is, he's an exceptionally obvious liar. Maybe he's gotten better. “But you didn't see anything strange about her that night? Anything that felt out of place or was could give any indication of why she was specifically targeted?” you ask, irritation seeping into your words. <<set $candace3 to true>> The expression on Lorcan's face is what you would call someone who believes they're talking to an idiot. “Are you stupid or something? Nevermind I know the answer to that. She was fucking bleeding everywhere, I think a foot was missing and she died! Obviously there was something strange about that,” Lorcan sneers. <<if $sbtwo>>You ignore his insults for the time being and ask, “any marks, and symbols etched into her skin that you could see?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“I can't believe I have to point out that I meant anything apart from that“ you chide. Lorcan throws daggers at you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Well I didn't exactly go up to her and start feelin' her up if that's what you mean. Go ask a fucking coroner“ he retorts. You groan, exasperated. You have thoughts of strangling him and by the way his body tenses you know that he's thinking the same thing.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Because you're a fucking freak and all you can't blame me for thinking you want to get off to all the gorey details,” he spits. You have thoughts of strangling him and by the way his body tenses you know that he's thinking the same thing.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You try to say as slowly and calmly as you can, “why the fuck can't you answer a basic question without being a complete ass about it? You didn't see any marks? Fine! Just say that.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You try to keep your voice even as you say the next words, “you could've just said 'no.' No need to waste more breath.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Maybe your amnesiac ass forgot that I hate you and make it my mission that every time I see you I would make you day worse. Mission accomplished“ he says with a cruel smile.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“And deprive you of my voice? I'm not that much of an asshole“ he sassy with a cruel smile.<</if>> <<if $stephanie>>“As you know, Stephanie had something on her too you idiot. That's why I was asking“ you say but he just shrugs, uncaring.<<elseif not $stephanie>>You wait a few moments before you ask anything else. Your inner voice cursing.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“Why do you care if Imre and I are working together?”->Page 237C]] <<if $stephanie>>* ==“Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”==<<elseif not $stephanie>>* [[“Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”->“That's not important. Did you notice anything about Stephanie when you found her?”]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3>“You mean apart from the fact that she was dismembered?” “That should go without saying, Lorcan. You were the only one of us who actually saw her“ you lie. <<set $stephanie to true>> Lorcan's eye twitches. He chews on his lip and seems to have gone paler than he already is. The moonlight giving him a skeletal hue. “No actually, I was too busy freaking the fuck out because there was a dead body there I didn't have time to take out my camera and notepad dumbass“ he snarks, his voice slightly shaky.”If you want to get off to corpses go look at the news.” <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “being a boy it might be hard for you to understand but my life is literally in danger along with every other girl.”<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “I know it's hard for you to give a shit about others but just because I'm not a girl doesn't mean I feel safe. Nor do I want girls to be murdered left and right.” Saying those words, that denial, feels like acid in your mouth and it hurts. Would it be worth being a girl even if it means you could die?<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “I know it's hard for you to give a shit about others but just because I'm not a girl doesn't mean I feel safe. Nor do I want girls to be murdered left and right.”<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “being a boy it might be hard for you to understand but my life is literally in danger along with every other girl.” Saying those words, that lie, feels like acid in your mouth and it hurts. Even if you weren't to die, you don't want to be a girl.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “I'm not sure what's going on or who's next but who's to say this thing doesn't stop at girls? We could all be fucked.” Unless the killer really does think as everyone else seems to that genitalia means you're a man or a woman and no other options. Pedestrian. You thoughts on gender are becoming far too distracting.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Lorcan rolls his eyes but with no real malice and says “I might've had time to really look at her before the police came. What's really weird is that she had some lines—“<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Lorcan rolls his eyes but with no real malice and says “I might've had time to really look at her before the police came. What's really weird is that she had some lines on her stomach it looked like it was supposed to look like something, a symbol.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“—on her stomach“ you finish. “Lines that were were made to look like something, right?” you ask.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You take in this new information. Lines? Like a mark? A tag? Something that brands them as belonging to the killer?<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Lorcan squints at you “how do you know that?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You must have a look on your face because Lorcan asks “what?”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You put on a innocent a face as you can, saying “wild guess?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You give him a casual glance “nothing.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Just as it looks like he's about to say something you quickly ask...<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Just as it looks like he's about to say something you quickly ask...<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“So are you going to tell me why you care if Imre and I work together?”->Page 237C]] <<if $candace3>>* ==“Does the name Candace ring any bells?”==<<elseif not $candace3>>* [[“Does the name Candace ring any bells?”->“Sure. Does the name Candace ring any bells?”]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3> “My father wants me home“ Nia says to Imre, handing him his pager. He looks down at it, eyes skimming the message. Meanwhile, Nia glances at you. Her face blank, you look away for a second and when you look back she's looking at Imre. “Yes, of course. I hadn't noticed how much time had passed“ he replies. “Enjoy the film?” he asks. Nia shrugs “it wasn't finished when I left it. Boring to be frank.” “Pity“ he says. He looks at and seems to remember you're there. “I was just out here with $name“ he says, gesturing to you. Nia bites her lip and stares ahead of her. “Why are you doing this?” she whispers to Imre. “Don't mind me, I was just leaving“ Lorcan interrupts. Imre turns to face him, a natural expression on his face. “You didn't need to announce your departure, unless you want us to take notice of you Lorcan“ Imre says. Lorcan shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and looks on teasingly at Imre. “No that's just you who's obssessed with being an attention whore all the time. At least if you were a real whore you could be paid for it but you aren't that smart“ he sneers. Nia looks up to the sky as she says “can you two not restart this now? At least wait until Imre drives me home.” “Speaking of smart, aren't you failing every single on of your classes? You're such a nightmare they keep passing to get rid of you so that in June you can go with your little diploma and apply to Alice's. You can be an alcoholic who works“ Imre retorts with a smile. “Imre, leave it, he's not worth it and take me home“ Nia interjects with an annoyed stomp to her foot. Lorcan laughs cruelly and takes a step towards Imre. “At least I—“ <hr>\ * [[You step in between them.->Page 239]] * [[You ask Imre to stop.]] * [[You look at Nia for help.]] * [[You give Lorcan a look.]] * [[You scream at them.]] * [[You let it unfold, intrigued.]] * [[You let it unfold, uncaring.]] </h3>

<h3> “You're father is in one his moods, he wants you home“ Imre says to Nia. He hands Nia his pager and she quickly reads the message. Meanwhile, Imre looks at you and nods his head in acknowledgement. “It's later than I thought. I was bored, I came out for a smoke“ she replies and huffs into her hand, sniffing to see if her breath smells. Imre grabs a lock of her hair and inhales. He lets it go and says “the smells almost gone, by the time you get home it'll be undetectable.” “He has the nose of a bloodhound“ Nia answers. Her eyes flick to you, in an expressionless tone she says “I found your little accomplice.” Imre grins “you do have an eye for detail querida.” Nia snorts and clips the pager onto Imre's belt. “Don't mind me, I was just leaving“ Lorcan interrupts. Imre turns to face him, a natural expression on his face. “You didn't need to announce your departure, unless you want us to take notice of you Lorcan“ Imre says. Lorcan shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and looks on teasingly at Imre. “No that's just you who's obssessed with being an attention whore all the time. At least if you were a real whore you could be paid for it but you aren't that smart“ he sneers. Nia looks up to the sky as she says “can you two not restart this now? At least wait until Imre drives me home.” “Speaking of smart, aren't you failing every single on of your classes? You're such a nightmare they keep passing to get rid of you so that in June you can go with your little diploma and apply to Alice's. You can be an alcoholic who works“ Imre retorts with a smile. “Imre, leave it, he's not worth it and take me home“ Nia interjects with an annoyed stomp to her foot. Lorcan laughs cruelly and takes a step towards Imre. “At least I—“ <hr>\ * [[You step in between them.->Page 239]] * [[You ask Imre to stop.]] * [[You look at Nia for help.]] * [[You give Lorcan a look.]] * [[You scream at them.]] * [[You let it unfold, intrigued.]] * [[You let it unfold, uncaring.]] </h3>

<h3> “Well, this is a nice surprise“ Imre says in his Imre way. His eyes flicker from you to Lorcan, a slight change in his eyes depending on who he's looking at. His eyes are kinder when they're on you. Lorcan's lips curl in response. His relaxed posture, tightens by his shoulders. So imperceptible that if you didn't know him like you do, you wouldn't see it. “What are you two doing here?” he asks, sounding very much put out. “Do you own the theatre now, Lorcan?” Nia responds, a cold but teasing look on her face. “Yes and the sidewalk, and I ban everyone who's parents make more than thirty-four thousand bucks a year from being here“ he retorts. Imre nudges Nia's shoulder and says “dollar-store Che Guevara.” Nia smiles, her eyes wandering from Lorcan to you. Her eyes look you up and down with the precision of a doctor. “Ugh this is boring, I hate all of you, I'm leaving“ Lorcan says. Imre raises his eyebrow, a gleam in his eye. “You didn't need to announce your departure, unless you want us to take notice of you Lorcan“ Imre says. Lorcan shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and looks on teasingly at Imre. “No that's just you who's obssessed with being an attention whore all the time. At least if you were a real whore you could be paid for it but you aren't that smart“ he sneers. Nia looks up to the sky as she says “can you two not restart this now? At least wait until Imre drives me home.” “Speaking of smart, aren't you failing every single on of your classes? You're such a nightmare they keep passing to get rid of you so that in June you can go with your little diploma and apply to Alice's. You can be an alcoholic who works“ Imre retorts with a smile. “Imre, leave it, he's not worth it and take me home“ Nia interjects with an annoyed stomp to her foot. Lorcan laughs cruelly and takes a step towards Imre. “At least I—“ <hr>\ * [[You step in between them.->Page 239]] * [[You ask Imre to stop.]] * [[You look at Nia for help.]] * [[You give Lorcan a look.]] * [[You scream at them.]] * [[You let it unfold, intrigued.]] * [[You let it unfold, uncaring.]] </h3>

<h3> Just as Lorcan steps forward you rush in between them. Your back grazes Imre's chest and Lorcan almost collides with you. He looks surprised when he sees you in the way and steps back. You turn to face both of them, holding your arms out. “Can we not have a repeat of my party please? Nothing good happens when you two start whacking each other“ you say, glancing from Imre's calm face to Lorcan's angry one. Imre's eyes look from you to Lorcan and he raises his hands in a surrender, “I can be as sweet as ethylene glycol.” “Isn't that antifreeze, azizam?” Nia asks. “Is it? Oops“ Imre says, “I can be as sweet as apple pie.” Lorcan's hands shake but he doesn't make another move. His scornful look passes from Imre to you. He takes another step backs and crosses his arms. “Ok, now that that's over I think we should probably all leave“ you propose, dropping your arms. Nia tugs at Imre's arm and Imre drags his eyes away from Lorcan and nods to her. “Wait“ Lorcan says as Nia begins pulling Imre away. Imre stops and Nia sighs before giving the blond boy an irritated look. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding you and Imre but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> Lorcan violently shoves Imre, Nia sidesteps her friend swiftly. Imre stumbles but regains his footing before charging Lorcan. They tumble to the ground, grasping at each other. You and Nia both watch. She, taking it like she takes everything, uninterested. You follow their tusling excitedly. Nails gliding back and forth against your pants. Imre elbows Lorcan in the stomach, the blond boy making an 'humph' sound as the air is knocked out of him. They roll over to your feet and you step over them so they can roll all the way to the edge of the sidewalk. You grin widely as you see Lorcan headbutt Imre, the brown haired boy's head snapping back. Nia glances at your watch and asks “do you know what time it is, Birdie?” Lorcan yanks Imre's hair. Disappointed that you have to look away from the spectacle, you bring your watch up and hold it firmly between your thumb and pointer finger. “Seven past eleven“ you answer, eyes quickly going back to the two bodies struggling on the cement. Nia tsks and turns back to the boys, wildly hitting each other on the ground. “Imre, I have to go home. Wrap this up“ she says listlessly. Imre shoves Lorcan away and promptly stands up, wiping a drop of blood on his lips and dusting his pants. Lorcan lays flat on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, a hand to his stomach. Imre adjusts his watch, runs his hands through his hair and pulls up his shirt. He walks over to Nia and offers his arm, she takes it and they prepare to depart. You feel your excitement deflate as Imre clearly looks like he doesn't want to continue the fight. “Don't fucking move yet“ Lorcan yells and sits up with a groan. Casting a hostile look at Imre, Lorcan clutches his stomach and staggers upright. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “even though you're a little bitch Duran, I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding you and Imre but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> Lorcan violently shoves Imre, Nia sidesteps her friend swiftly. Imre stumbles but regains his footing before charging Lorcan. They tumble to the ground, grasping at each other. You and Nia both watch with varying degrees of disinterest. Imre elbows Lorcan in the stomach, the blond boy making an 'humph' sound as the air is knocked out of him. They roll over to your feet and you step over them so they can roll all the way to the edge of the sidewalk. Nia glances at your watch and asks “do you know what time it is, Birdie?” Lorcan yanks Imre's hair. You bring your watch up and hold it firmly between your thumb and pointer finger. “Seven past eleven“ you answer, huffing at the time and thinking of the convenience store. Nia tsks and turns back to the boys, wildly hitting each other on the ground. “Imre, I have to go home. Wrap this up“ she says listlessly. Imre shoves Lorcan away and promptly stands up, wiping a drop of blood on his lips and dusting his pants. Lorcan lays flat on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, a hand to his stomach. Imre adjusts his watch, runs his hands through his hair and pulls up his shirt. He walks over to Nia and offers his arm, she takes it and they prepare to depart. “Don't fucking move yet“ Lorcan yells and sits up with a groan. Casting a hostile look at Imre, Lorcan clutches his stomach and staggers upright. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “even though you're a little bitch Duran, I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding you and Imre but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> As Imre raises his hands up you whisper urgently “Imre.” He quickly looks from his opponent to you. His face is stony but he drops his hands. Lorcan, who had taken a couple of steps forward, stops awkwardly in his tracks. While Nia and Lorcan are looking at Imre, his eyes don't leave yours. “At least for tonight, don't sink to his level“ you ask in a soft tone. Imre inhales deeply and then nods, looking like he absolutely wants to do the opposite. Imre's eyes look from you to Lorcan and he raises his hands in a surrender, “out of respect for $name, I'll be as much of a pacifist as Charles Manson.” “Wasn't he a murderer, azizam?” Nia asks. “Was he? Oops“ Imre says, “I'll be as much of a pacifist as Dr. King.” Lorcan's hands shake but he doesn't make another move. His scornful look passes from Imre to you. He takes another step backs and crosses his arms. “Ok, now that that's over I think we should probably all leave“ you propose, leaning towards the doors where behind them your brother is finishing up the movie. Nia tugs at Imre's arm and Imre drags his eyes away from Lorcan and nods to her. “Wait“ Lorcan says as Nia begins pulling Imre away. Imre stops and Nia sighs before giving the blond boy an irritated look. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding you and Imre but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> “Lorcan“ you chastise. Lorcan's angry eyes dart from Imre to you. You return his glare. His teeth grind against each other as his eyes seem to want to spear you. Suddenly he takes a huge step back, his eyes remaining fixed on you. Imre drops his shoulders and shoots you a grateful smile. “Last time he hit you, you fell down a bank and landed by a dead body. Who knows what can happen this time. Don't be stupid“ you chide Lorcan. Lorcan seems to want to chew you out but instead huffs annoyingly and stuffs his fists back into jacket. “You're lucky you got Crowny here to defend your honor, maybe you should thank <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>her<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>him<</if>> for going home in one piece tonight“ Lorcan quips. Imre laughs mockingly and holds up his hand “what will I ever do without <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>her?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>him?”<</if>>His face turns from insincere to Lorcan to friendly when landing on you. “Are we leaving anytime soon, mon cheri?” Nia asks, piping up after watching this whole exchange with nothing more than boredom on her face. “Nia's right, we should all leave before any more fights start“ you say, leaning towards the doors where behind them your brother is finishing up the movie. Imre slowly meets Nia's look and nods. “Wait“ Lorcan says as Nia begins pulling Imre away. Imre stops and Nia sighs before giving the blond boy an irritated look. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding your's and Imre's eyes but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> The boys both take a step in the other's direction but you prevent them from taking any other action by loudly shouting “IMRE DURAN AND LORCAN STARK!“ Your shrill voice stops the boys and they both whip their heads in your direction. You place your hands on your hips and try to look as stern as you sound. “Is this going to happen every fucking time you see each other?! Acting like a pair of neanderthals!“ you fume. Imre steps back from Lorcan and gives you a confused smile. “$name you should understand–“ Imre begins but you raise a hand to cut him off. Lorcan snickers and you shoot him a sharp look. “You want to kill each other? Be my guest but preferably somewhere else. I don't want to be called back to the police station to give a witness statement“ you complain. Lorcan points to Imre and says “he's the one—“ you shush him. Lorcan stops talking and looks at you, a shocked expression on his face that you would shush him. Imre takes that opportunity to slap Lorcan's finger away. “Before either of you immature children start whining and pulling each other's hair, I suggest everyone leaves. And...” you raise a finger, eyes boring into one boy and the other “if either of you start pointing fingers at each other I'll slap you both.” Nia looks slightly stunned at your attitude. A small dancing light in her eyes tells you she might be mildly impressed. Even you're shocked at what you're doing. Never in your life have you commanded such presence. You don't even know where it came from. Nia tugs at Imre's arm and Imre drags his eyes away from Lorcan and nods to her. “Hey“ Lorcan says as Nia begins pulling Imre away. Imre stops and Nia sighs before giving the blond boy an irritated look. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “bullshit aside, I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding you and Imre but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3> Nia quickly returns your glance, her face taciturn. You hope your eyes convey your meaning. Nia glances back at the commotion and grasps Imre's arm as hard as she can, pulling him back. “Every minute I'm not home, he'll get angrier“ she says to Imre. Imre runs his tongue along his teeth and seems poised to shrug her off and attack Lorcan, who seems like he's still ready for a fight. She glares at Lorcan and threatens “I'm close enough for you to hit me. If you do I'll ruin every aspect of you life, Stark.” Lorcan opens his mouth to retort but you quickly say “if I were you I wouldn't talk back. She'll have your tongue for that.” Nia's eyes glimmer and she looks at you with an unreadable expression on her face. She doesn't say anything to that and you don't speak to her. But she can see how grateful you are in your eyes. “Ok, now that that's over I think we should probably all leave“ you propose, leaning towards the doors where behind them your brother is finishing up the movie. Nia tugs at Imre's arm and Imre drags his eyes away from Lorcan and nods to her. “Wait“ Lorcan says as Nia begins pulling Imre away. Imre stops and Nia sighs before giving the blond boy an irritated look. Lorcan shifts on his feet and without really looking at anything but the space between you and Imre says in an offhand way “I want to help.” You give Imre a confused look and he answers with a suspicious one of his own. “By help... you mean...” his voice trails off. “I want to help you two idiots find out what's going on“ he answers, gaze avoiding your's and Imre's eyes but voice firm. [[NEXT->Page 240]] </h3>

<h3>Imre side eyes you and you raise your eyebrows, unsure where nor when this change of heart came about. Imre stares at Lorcan unflinchingly, a look on his face showing his severe doubt. “What's in it for you?” Imre asks. Lorcan remains staring at a point behind Imre and answers, “can't I just enjoy the feeling of doing good that it will give me?” You give Lorcan a disbelieving look and reply “most people do charity for that. You can get the same feeling reading to the oldies at a nursing home and it would be less dangerous.” Lorcan pouts at you and asks, “would you really turn away a helping hand? If you're so selfless and caring towards others now, than you must be for all of God's creatures.” “You must be the creature that shits on His carpet,“ Nia retorts. Lorcan momentarily focuses his attention on her and smiles. Imre untangles his arm from Nia's and crosses it with his other over his chest. His eyes penetrating Lorcan's face. “What's in it for you?” he repeats. Lorcan groans and lifts up his arms, “literally all I want to do is help the girls of this town, is that so hard to fucking believe?” “Pretty much,“ you answer without hesitation. Lorcan ignores you, his eyes not straying from Imre. Imre barely blinks as his eyes try to peel back Lorcan's layers, as if they were x-rays and he wants to get to the skeleton underneath. “What's in it for you Lorcan?” Imre questions, his tone strong and interrogatory. Lorcan makes a frustrated sound and looks from you to Imre with a puzzled expression. “Seriously?” he asks. When neither you nor Imre budge Lorcan looks to the side and searches randomly with his eyes, thinking of what he should say. He closes his eyes for a moment before looking at all you and declaring, “I think Orla was killed by the same thing that killed the other girls. I think she's a victim and I won't stop until I find out what and who killed her.” [[NEXT->Page 241]] </h3>

<h3>The three of you are silent. Lorcan stands there looking far more resolute than you thought he was capable of. “Of course,“ you drawl. You already knew she was motivation for nearly everything he does, you just hadn't thought he would connect her death with this. Imre quirks his eyebrow at your reaction but otherwise doesn't comment on it. He offers Lorcan an amused look and asks “fine by me. I can put aside our differences for a bigger cause.” The tension in Lorcan's shoulders eases and he visibly slumps. With a huff he says “yeah I think I can—“ “But—“ Imre interrupts him with a smile “I'm going to need something from you.” Lorcan's relieved look quickly dissipates and he answers Imre with a scowl, “what. Do. You. Want.” Imre's smile stretches wider, absolute glee spreading throughout his face, “you have to do everything I say, and by everything I mean //everything//.” His smile contrasts with how intense his eyes look boring into Lorcan. Lorcan's eyebrows bunch together and he doesn't answer as quickly as he would if Imre proposed this arrangement in another context. Lorcan's eyes twitch and Imre's remain unblinking on his. You look back and forth between them, uncertain exactly of what's going on. It might be paranoia but it looks like there's something m— no you don't think. Your eyes notice Nia zeroing in on the interaction, her eyes lasering in on Imre. Her nails dig into his sleeve but he no doesn't so much as flinch. The air around you four seems colder than it was a few minutes ago, you shiver and hug yourself. It was warmer when they were gearing up to fight. “Deal,“ Lorcan says. [[NEXT->Page 242]] </h3>

<h3> If you were a cartoon character your jaw might've dropped to your feet. Imre licks his lips and says, “your obessesion will never cease to confund me. But no matter, at least there's some benefit out of it.” Lorcan's nose wrinkles and he looks to the side, his fingers dancing and his feet alternating between which one holds more weight. Nia looks like she wants to say something but presses her mouth into a grim line. Imre doesn't look at all fazed. You wouldn't be surprised if he had powers of prophecy and knew this would happen. Things have changed and things are changing. You clear your throat, “I've had weird things happen to me since forever but being allied with you people might take the cake.” Imre hums in agreement. The beloved golden boy, a straight-A student who is also a jock and spends his freetime volunteering at the preschool. Lorcan looks nauseous. Your late sister's boyfriend, a prickly loner who already has an extensive rap sheet that is probably longer than yours. You look at Nia who seems uncertain and that uncertainty makes her angry, her face rigid and her eyes fluttering. She meets your gaze and says, “have you all lost your fucking minds?” <hr>\ * [[“Nia.” You try to placate her.->Page 243]] * [[“Nia.” You try to plead with her.]] * [[“Nia.” You're annoyed.]] * [[You let her say her piece.]] </h3>

<h3> “Nia,“ you say steadfastly. “Calm down.” “Shut up $name. Just shut up,“ she replies venonmously. Imre tries to lay his hands on her shoulders but she shrugs him off. “Querida, don't you think we could actually do something here? Do you have so little trust in me?” he asks. Nia glares at him, pointing a finger at his face, “don't forget that I know who you are. You can't use your shit on me.” She faces all of you and says, “how can three idiots do what an entire police station hasn't been able to do in decades?” “Those fucks spend their days sleeping, eating and harassing people at Camelot in the Meadows,“ Lorcan responds. Nia shakes her head, “you're going to get yourselves killed. I don't think a psycho will care if you're a boy, Imre if you stick your nose in its business.” “Nia, this is for you too,“ Imre says in a kind tone. Nia scoffs and gives him a cynical look, “no Imre. This for you. It's always been for you. The difference now is that you're dragging Birdie into it and you know—“ “Nia,“ Imre interrupts, his voice holding a warning. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to her in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate her but you“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate her for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to him in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate him but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate him for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<</if>> Imre shoots daggers at Lorcan. “Say that to her again and you'll regret it for the rest of your life,“ Imre snaps. “And you're a whiny little cunt who if he had the chance would dig up his girlfriend to fuck her!“ Nia retailates. “GUYS,“ you say loudly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Oh little sister! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Oh little brother! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 244]] </h3>

<h3> “Nia,“ you say gently. “Please, don't.” “No offence $name but don't fucking try me right now,” she replies angrily. Imre tries to lay his hands on her shoulders but she shrugs him off. “Querida, don't you think we could actually do something here? Do you have so little trust in me?” he asks. Nia glares at him, pointing a finger at his face, “don't forget that I know who you are. You can't use your shit on me.” She faces all of you and says “how can three idiots do what an entire police station hasn't been able to do in decades?” “Those fucks spend their days sleeping, eating and harassing people at Camelot in the Meadows,“ Lorcan responds. Nia shakes her head, “you're going to get yourselves killed. I don't think a psycho will care if you're a boy, Imre if you stick your nose in its business.” “Nia, this is for you too,“ Imre says in a kind tone. Nia scoffs and gives him a cynical look, “no Imre. This is for you. It's always been for you. The difference now is that you're dragging Birdie into it and you know—“ “Nia,“ Imre interrupts, his voice holding a warning. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to her in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate her but you“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate her for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to him in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate him but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate him for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<</if>> Imre shoots daggers at Lorcan. “Say that to her again and you'll spend the rest of your life regretting it,“ Imre snaps. “And you're a whiny little cunt who if he had the chance would dig up his girlfriend to fuck her!“ Nia retailates. “GUYS,“ you say loudly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Oh little sister! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Oh little brother! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 244]] </h3>

<h3> “Nia,“ you say between clenched teeth. “No one asked for you opinion and no one wants to hear it.” “$name, if you actually use your brain you'd realize my opinion is the only one that makes any fucking sense,“ she replies acidicly. Imre tries to lay his hands on her shoulders but she shrugs him off. “Querida, don't you think we could actually do something here? Do you have so little trust in me?” he asks. Nia glares at him, pointing a finger at his face, “don't forget that I know who you are. You can't use your shit on me.” She faces all of you and says, “how can three idiots do what an entire police station hasn't been able to do in decades?” “Those fucks spend their days sleeping, eating and harassing people at Camelot in the Meadows,“ Lorcan responds. Nia shakes her head, “you're going to get yourselves killed. I don't think a psycho will care if you're a boy, Imre if you stick your nose in its business.” “Nia, this is for you too,“ Imre says in a kind tone. Nia scoffs and gives him a cynical look, “no Imre. This for you. It's always been for you. The difference now is that you're dragging Birdie into it and you know—“ “Nia,“ Imre interrupts, his voice holding a warning. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to her in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate her but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate her for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to him in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate him but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate him for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<</if>> Imre shoots daggers at Lorcan. “Say that to her again and you'll regret it for the rest of your life,“ Imre snaps. “And you're a whiny little cunt who if he had the chance would dig up his girlfriend to fuck her!“ Nia retailates. “GUYS,“ you say loudly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Oh little sister! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Oh little brother! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 244]] </h3>

<h3> You know that no matter what you say, nothing can stop Nia when she's decided to start. And you'd prefer not to get caught between the crossfire between her and the other two. Plus, it's not like she is entirely wrong about the lunancy of this alliance. Imre tries to lay his hands on her shoulders but she shrugs him off. “Querida, don't you think we could actually do something here? Do you have so little trust in me?” he asks. Nia glares at him, pointing a finger at his face, “don't forget that I know who you are. You can't use your shit on me.” She faces all of you and says, “how can three idiots do what an entire police station hasn't been able to do in decades?” “Those fucks spend their days sleeping, eating and harassing people at Camelot in the Meadows,“ Lorcan responds. Nia shakes her head, “you're going to get yourselves killed. I don't think a psycho will care if you're a boy, Imre if you stick your nose in its business.” “Nia, this is for you too,“ Imre says in a kind tone. Nia scoffs and gives him a cynical look, “no Imre. This for you. It's always been for you. The difference now is that you're dragging Birdie into it and you know—“ “Nia,“ Imre interrupts, his voice holding a warning. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to her in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate her but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate her for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Since when do you give a shit about Crown, you haven't said shit to him in weeks,“ Lorcan weighs in. “I know why I hate him but you,“ he emphasizes the last word, “you hate him for no reason, maybe you're just a bitch.”<</if>> Imre shoots daggers at Lorcan. “Say that to her again and you'll regret it for the rest of your life,“ Imre snaps. “And you're a whiny little cunt who if he had the chance would dig up his girlfriend to fuck her!“ Nia retailates. “GUYS,“ you say loudly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Oh little sister! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Oh little brother! Let's get the fuck outta hereeeeeee,“ Percy says in a sing-song voice as he walks out to this scene.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 244]] </h3>

<h3> Percy's eyes widen as he sees all of you in a circle, Nia with balled fists, Imre looking worried, Lorcan with an expression that says he might start swinging and then you, completely confused. Percy rubs the back of his neck as he avoids making eye contact with the other three and says to you, “um, as I was saying... can we bounce?” You swallow and say in what you hope is an even tone, “Sally isn't back yet. You should call the house.” “I called from the theatres' telephone. He's not there and neither is that useless other one who we pay to not drive us around,“ Percy complains. Percy looks from you to the others and lands on Imre. With a faux smile he goes up to him and throws an around around his shoulders, “say Imre, could you be a doll and help two siblings in need?” Imre stares at your brother's dangling hand near his shoulders. He looks up and smiles at him, “of course.” Imre walks past Lorcan and says, “you're coming too.” Percy excitedly starts talking Imre's ear off while you and Nia follow. Lorcan trudges behind, grumbling all the way. [[NEXT->Page 245]] </h3>

<h3> Imre's blue Jaguar is a bit cramped for all five of you. The beige leather seats are squeaky but tidy. The floor hasn't the hint of even a crumb and it smells that smell of clean cars. It feels impersonal, like a hotel room or rental skates. There's nothing in here that tells you who this car belongs to. Not even an air-freshner on the mirror. At first Imre left the radio off but since no one was talking he turned it on to some random grainy station that seems to be exclusively playing grunge music from that singer who shot himself a couple months back. The streetlights pass through the car windows, occasionally illuminating a few of you. Apart from the music, Percy's snores fill the car in alternating degrees of sound. He fell asleep about five minutes into the ride. You decided to sit... <hr>\ <<if $imremovies>>* ==In the front with Imre.==<<elseif not $imremovies>>* [[In the front with Imre.]]<</if>>\ <<if $niamovies>>* ==In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.==<<elseif not $niamovies>>* [[In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<</if>>\ <<if $lorcanmovies>>* ==In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.==<<elseif not $lorcanmovies>>* [[In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $carnia>>You lean forward, pressing your body in between the seats, leaning your head near Imre's face.<<elseif $carlorcan>>You lean forward, pressing your body in between the seats, leaning your head near Imre's face.<<elseif not $carnia>>Imre's hand lays on the stickshift, his other is thrown casually on the steering wheel. A blank expression to his face until he catches you staring and quickly looks at you before before looking back at the road.<<elseif not $carlorcan>>Imre's hand lays on the stickshift, his other is thrown casually on the steering wheel. A blank expression to his face until he catches you staring and quickly looks at you before before looking back at the road. <</if>> “Odd turn of events, huh?” he asks. <<set $carimre to true>> <<if $carnia>> You strain up and see the faces of the other two next to you. Nia is filing her nails and Lorcan is looking out the window with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere else.<<elseif $carlorcan>>You strain up and see the faces of the other two next to you. Nia is filing her nails and Lorcan is looking out the window with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere else.<<elseif not $carnia>>You strain up and see the faces of the other three behind you. Nia is filing her nails and Lorcan is looking out the window with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere else. <<elseif not $carlorcan>>You strain up and see the faces of the other three behind you. Nia is filing her nails and Lorcan is looking out the window with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere else.<</if>> “I don't think even someone as methodical as you could have anticipated we'd end the night like this“ you reply. <<set $carimre to true>> Imre smiles and slows down at a red light. You're on your way to drop Nia off, her house is the closest. <<if $niamovies>>Looking at you, Imre asks “what were you and Nia talking about before I arrived?”<<elseif $lorcanmovies>>Looking at you, Imre asks “what were you and Lorcan talking about before I arrived?”<</if>> Imre turns up the radio now, loud enough that you two could still hear each other but the others in the back would have trouble. “Why are you interested in that?” you counter, a questioning look on your face. Imre chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, shrugging. “I'm just making conversation $name, there's nothing to it,” he answers. A little voice, proclaiming doubt sounds off in your mind. But also something else. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Is there a personal interest there?”->Page 246]] * [[♡ “Are you fucking into me or something?”]] * [[⟡ “I'm trying to be more sociable.”]] * [[“I asked about Candace.”]] * [[“We were talking about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3><<if $carimre>>You turn your head and lean slightly in between the seats. The scratch of Nia's nails against her nail filer almost sounds like a scurrying of rats. Her cherry-red nails glimmer each time the streetlights touch them. Nia swiftly glances at you and turns back to her nails.<<elseif $carlorcan>>You turn your head to your left. The scratch of Nia's nails against her nail filer almost sounds like a scurrying of rats. Her cherry-red nails glimmer each time the streetlights touch them. Nia swiftly glances at you and turns back to her nails.<<elseif not $carime>>The scratch of Nia's nails against her nail filer almost sounds like a scurrying of rats. Her cherry-red nails glimmer each time the streetlights touch them. Nia swiftly glances at you and turns back to her nails.<<elseif not $carlorcan>>The scratch of Nia's nails against her nail filer almost sounds like a scurrying of rats. Her cherry-red nails glimmer each time the streetlights touch them. Nia swiftly glances at you and turns back to her nails.<</if>> “What is it?” she asks. <<set $carnia to true>> You look to see what the others are doing. Lorcan has his forehead leaned against the window, sighing occasionally and Imre flips through the station again. “Is the fact that this is the first time we've had a real opportunity to talk since I got back not a worthy thing to note?” you inquire. Nia stares at you hard while moving her nail slowly along the file. You're on your way to drop Nia off, her house is the closest. <<if $imremovies>>Her face remains stoic as she says “I think a worthier thing to note is that you and Imre looked pretty chummy when I interrupted you.”<<elseif $lorcanmovies>>Her face remains stoic as she says “I think a worthier thing to note is that you and Lorcan looked pretty chummy when I interrupted you.”<</if>> Arriving at a station he likes, one of classical music, Imre turns up the volume and so he won't be able to hear you while Lorcan would have to lean in. “You actually care about that?” you question. Nia rubs the corner of her mouth and looks at the smudge of lipstick on her nail. “Who wouldn't care when they see something so strange? It's like seeing dogs walk on their hind legs“ she jests. A little voice, proclaiming doubt sounds off in your mind. But also something else. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Or maybe you're actually into me.”]] * [[♡ “God, is this you trying to see if you have competition?”]] * [[⟡ “I think I'm trying out this new thing called 'friends.'“]] * [[“I was asking about Candace.”]] * [[“It was about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3><<if $carimre>>You squeeze your face in between the headrest and the window. Lorcan swears under his breath, sometimes stopping to sigh heavily and then going into another round. The swearing he does low enough where he can't be heard except by you. Suddenly, he stops talking and slowly meets your gaze.<<elseif $carnia>>You turn your head to the right. Lorcan swears under his breath, sometimes stopping to sigh heavily and then going into another round. The swearing he does low enough where he can't be heard except by you. Suddenly, his shoulders raise and he looks over his shoulder at you.<<elseif not $carimre>> Lorcan swears under his breath, sometimes stopping to sigh heavily and then going into another round. The swearing he does low enough where he can't be heard except by you. Suddenly, his shoulders raise and he looks over one of them at you.<<elseif not $carnia>> Lorcan swears under his breath, sometimes stopping to sigh heavily and then going into another round. The swearing he does low enough where he can't be heard except by you. Suddenly, his shoulders raise and he looks over one of them at you.<</if>> “Stop fucking staring at me,” he says. <<set $carlorcan to true>> You roll your eyes and look to see what the others are doing. Nia is aggressively filing her nails while Imre flips through the station again. “I wasn't staring. I was just looking around, is that illegal now? Since we're working together now you should get used it,” you reply. Lorcan makes a 'huh' noise and presses his forehead back against the window. You're on your way to drop Nia off, her house is the closest. <<if $niamovies>>Lorcan sighs heavily once again and asks “have you and your girlfriend kissed and made up?”<<elseif $imremovies>>Lorcan sighs heavily once again and asks “are you and pretty boy the IT couple now?”<</if>> Arriving at a station he likes, one of classical music, Imre turns up the volume and so he won't be able to hear you while Lorcan would have to lean in. “Why? You want an exclusive interview?” you retort. Lorcan throws you a dark look and goes back to staring out the window. “Like you said, we're working together now so I should who the fuck these people are,” he answers. A little voice, proclaiming doubt sounds off in your mind. But also something else. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “You can just admit your feelings for me already.”]] * [[♡ “This obssession could be love you know.”]] * [[⟡ “I'm being nice, you should try it.”]] * [[“I wanted to know about Candace.”]] * [[“I was curious about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> Imre smiles sweetly and looks down at his hand on the stickshift. <<if $masturbationNia >>\ “Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focused on Nia. <<elseif $niathought >>\ “Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focused on Nia. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>\ “Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focused on Lorcan. <<elseif $lorcanthought >>\ “Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focusedon Lorcan. <<elseif $nonfap >>\ “I'm not yet sure. These things take a bit more time $name. Ask me that again in a few weeks, I might have an answer“ he replies. <<elseif $nonfap2Nia >>\ “Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focused on Nia. <<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>\ Maybe in other circumstances there might've been but I have a feeling I might be getting in the way of something“ he replies. He adjusts the mirror and when you tilt your head you see it focusedon Lorcan. <<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>\ “Good things comes to those who wait,” he replies.<</if>>\ <<if $masturbationNia >>\ You feel a weird twist in your gut and look down at your lap. You don't like what he's insinuating. No, dislike is a strong word. Uncomfortable. That's it. It makes you uncomfortable. You feel like you have evidence of it on your face, of those fleeting thoughts about Nia throughout the years. <<elseif $niathought >>\ You feel a weird twist in your gut and look down at your lap. You don't like what he's insinuating. No, dislike is a strong word. Uncomfortable. That's it. It makes you uncomfortable. You feel like you have evidence of it on your face, of those fleeting thoughts about Nia throughout the years. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>\ You feel a pang in your chest. The insinuation is clear and rejected. Lorcan is the last person in the world anything of the sort could happen with. All you want is to make him leave you in peace, that's all. <<elseif $lorcanthought >>\ You feel a pang in your chest. The insinuation is clear and rejected. Lorcan is the last person in the world anything of the sort could happen with. All you want is to make him leave you in peace, that's all. <<elseif $nonfap >>\ You feel your heart quicken in your chest. He confuses you. The sensations he's envoking in you every time you meet makes you unsure of yourself. <<elseif $nonfap2Nia >>\ You feel a weird twist in your gut and look down at your lap. You don't like what he's insinuating. No, dislike is a strong word. Uncomfortable. That's it. It makes you uncomfortable. You feel like you have evidence of it on your face, of those fleeting thoughts about Nia throughout the years. <<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>\ You feel a pang in your chest. The insinuation is clear and rejected. Lorcan is the last person in the world anything of the sort could happen with. All you want is to make him leave you in peace, that's all. <<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>\ You feel your heart quicken in your chest. He confuses you. The sensations he's envoking in you every time you meet makes you unsure of yourself.<</if>>\ \“Putting that aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?” <hr>\ * [[“I asked about Candace.”]] * [[“We were talking about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> He raises his eyebrow and grips the stickshift.<<if $masturbationNia >> “With your dazzling personality how couldn't I be?” he jokes. “If you and Nia weren't doing whatever it is you're doing, then I might've been.”<<elseif $niathought >> “With your dazzling personality how couldn't I be?” he jokes. “If you and Nia weren't doing whatever it is you're doing, then I might've been.”<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>“With your dazzling personality how couldn't I be?” he jokes. “If you and Lorcan weren't doing whatever it is you're doing, then I might've been.”<<elseif $lorcanthought >>“With your dazzling personality how couldn't I be?” he jokes. “If you and Lorcan weren't doing whatever it is you're doing, then I might've been.”<<elseif $nonfap >>“With your dazzling personality how couldn't I be?” he jokes. “Although that prospect seems to disgust you.”<</if>> <<if $masturbationNia >>You clench your fists. Your face feels like it might crack with how hard all your muscles are pressing. What he's implying is completely absurd and untrue. Doesn't everyone have small moments when they might think of their best friend as more than that? It doesn't mean there's anything there.<<elseif $niathought >>You clench your fists. Your face feels like it might crack with how hard all your muscles are pressing. What he's implying is completely absurd and untrue. Doesn't everyone have small moments when they might think of their best friend as more than that? It doesn't mean there's anything there.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>You clench your fists. Your face feels like it might crack with how hard all your muscles are pressing. What he's implying is the stupidest thing you've ever heard. As if you could ever look at that blond asshole as anything other than a waste of space. You're offended by the thought.<<elseif $lorcanthought >>You clench your fists. Your face feels like it might crack with how hard all your muscles are pressing. What he's implying is the stupidest thing you've ever heard. As if you could ever look at that blond asshole as anything other than a waste of space. You're offended by the thought.<<elseif $nonfap >>You roll your eyes and sigh heavily to show him what you think about that. Imre is a liar and doesn't do anything without an agenda. All these years and all of a sudden he shows interest? You don't like the odd sensation he invokes in your now. One you've never felt and that unbalance you.<</if>> <<if $masturbationNia >>“Your obvious and elite taste aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?”<<elseif $niathought >>“Your obvious and elite taste aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?”<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>“Your obvious and questionable taste aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?”<<elseif $lorcanthought >>“Your obvious and questionable taste aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?”<<elseif $nonfap >>“Your obvious and erroneous distaste aside, you didn't answer my question“ Imre asserts. “What were you two talking about out there?”<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“I asked about Candace.”]] * [[“We were talking about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3>“How do you know about Candace?” he inquires. You turn yourself to face him while he quickly glances between you and the road. His face looks confused but apart from that you can't tell what he means. “So from that I'm guessing you know who I'm talking about, she died before Stephanie and you didn't think it was a good idea to tell me?” Imre, moves his tongue behind his bottom lip. the confused look iz gone and replaced by something resembling a mix between repent and dejection. Two things that look wrong on his face. “Ok. You're right I didn't tell you. I should've but we didn't have time to talk that much that day in the library and we haven't talked at all in weeks. Whenever we would've actually met up and compared notes I promised I would've told you“ he explains. You search his face, trying to see any cracks in his armour. Imre is a very good charmer and his lying skills must be unmatched because no matter how hard you look you don't see an insincerity. “Alright, well I'm here now. Good a time as any to tell me anything you know about her, basically whatever questions we have about Stephanie, I want to know about Candace“ you say. Imre cups his chin and knits his eyebrows together, his eyes seeing something else. “She might've been a grade below us. No one knew she was missing until she showed up at the fair, she was in a bad way. Never would've survived those injuries“ he claims. You hum and look down at your feet. Nothing. Just like Stephanie there's nothing to go on apart from the fact they were girls.<<if $sbtwo>>“Do you know if she had any marks on her. Like deliberate ones, carved in?” you ask. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Anything else you want to ask me?” Imre inquiries.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Imre's eyebrows rise in interest. “Deliberate marks? Why? No I didn't hear of any such thing. To be honest I wasn't that focused on this case before you came along.”<<elseif $stephanie>>Imre's eyebrows rise in interest. “Do you think she could've had the same marks that you found on Stephanie's body? And no I don't know, to be honest I wasn't that focused on this case before you came along.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You shake your head. “Seems like we can't leave square one“ you sigh. Imre doesn't say anything but he looks annoyed, probably feeling as impotent as you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You look at him, he seems lost in thought. Probably didn't give much thought to what he said. “I just thought I might've had a lead for a moment, something that could tell us more. Looks like we have nothing.”<<elseif $stephanie>>You look at him, he seems lost in thought. Probably didn't give much thought to what he said. “I do think that. We'll probably never know now. But if we could somehow find out what this mark is maybe we could get a clue of why these girls are dying for“ you say hopefully.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>But his face relaxes and he defaults back to his easy smile. “We've barely begun. I'm sure we actually get ourselves organized and we'll have something concrete.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Don't be so pessimistic. We've barely begun. Someone must know something we just need to talk to the right person“ he assures. You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him.<<elseif $stephanie>>“We will. We'll find something, as all great mysteries all that is needed is to find a thread to pull“ he assures you. You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You aren't as optimistic as Imre but you don't refute him. Imre always does manage to get what he wants anyway, so he might be right.<</if>> You two both stare at each other, not saying a word. At least tonight you two won't get far with your investigation. <hr>\ * [[“Speaking of Stephanie, any news on that front?”->“We were talking about Stephanie.”]] <<if $niamovies>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif $carnia >>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif not $niamovies>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<<elseif not $carnia>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<</if>>\ <<if $lorcanmovies>>* ==You talk to Lorcan.==<<elseif not $lorcanmovies>>* [[You talk to Lorcan.->In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ * [[You don't say anything else.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3>“In service of our alliance, I'll say that I went to see her body.” “You did?” You make an affirmative sound in your throat. “I figured that there might be some clues there. Apart from the severe mutilation of her corpse.” He gets a glint of excitement in his eyes, a glint that reminds you of yourself when faced with horrific but exciting news about all this. “And?” he asks. <<set $stephanie to true>> <<if $sbtwo>>You let out a deflated exhale “and nothing. Well, no. There was something. Something on her body. On her stomach. But it's hardly a concrete lead, Imre.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You let out a deflated exhale “no. I didn't have time to see her. It's not easy sneaking in there and taking your time“ you say.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>He still has the same spark of life in his face, the news not fazing him at all. “Tell me, I might be able to make heads or tails of it“ he offers.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>His lips quirk and he says “no I imagine not. Although it makes for a very exciting time. You should've invited me.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“It looked like someone used a knife on her to cut in a symbol. Fuck, I don't even know if it's a symbol because it cuts off. It looked weird, it looked like it could be important“ you say.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Yeah sure. I'll call you the next time I decide to go desecrate bodies“ you snark.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Imre considers this for a moment and asks “is it a mark you've ever seen before?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Imre smirks, his hand slightly moving the steering wheel.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You shake your head. The light in Imre's eyes dims a bit but not completely.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>He doesn't for a moment, the anticipation is in between you two.<</if>> <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“We need to find something soon $name because every day that passes you could be in danger“ he stresses. Just your luck, you're a girl. As if your life wasn't hard enough already without being the target unknown murderer.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.' >>“Neither you or I are in any danger. At least from the evidence we have it has only killed women. Even so, it might not like that we're poking around. We might be targets just for being in the way“ he theorizes. A small voice protests this, you're in danger too, you're not like Imre or the other boys in town. You're like Nia... you push this thought to the side for now.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“Neither you or I are in any danger. At least from the evidence we have it has only killed women. Even so, it might not like that we're poking around. We might be targets just for being in the way“ he theorizes. Just your luck, even being a boy won't save you.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“We need to find something soon $name because every day that passes you could be in danger,” he stresses. A small voice protests this, you're not in danger, you're not like Nia or the other girls in town. You're like him... you push this thought to the side for now.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“Everyday that passes you must be in danger right? I can't particularly tell but I wouldn't discard you to safety,” he speculates. Just so. You look down at yourself.If Imre can't figure you out... it somehow pleases you that you don't like like a man or woman.<</if>> Imre and you engage in a silent conversation. Every few seconds his eyes stray to the road. <hr>\ * [[“I also asked about Candace.”->“I asked about Candace.”]] <<if $niamovies>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif $carnia >>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif not $niamovies>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<<elseif not $carnia>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<</if>>\ <<if $lorcanmovies>>* ==You talk to Lorcan.==<<elseif not $lorcanmovies>>* [[You talk to Lorcan.->In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ * [[You say nothing more.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3> Nia gives you a look that shows you how ridiculous she finds you. <<if $masturbationImre >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $imrethought >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to space next to you.<<elseif $lorcanthought >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to space next to you.<<elseif $nonfap >>\ “I have no idea if that was a joke or you've fallen into delusion“ she says. “I have a certain rules of standards for my romantic partners.” <<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>\ “I'm not going to comment on your comedic skills. On the topic of romance, I feel as if someone already is 'into you'“ she says. She motions her head to space next to you.<</if>> <<if $masturbationImre >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. The insinuation is clear and unwanted. Even if there were something there, which there isn't, it would obviously be one-sided and not from his side. <<elseif $imrethought >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. The imsinuation is clear and unwanted. Even if there were something there, which there isn't, it would obviously be one-sided and not from his side. <<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. You almost laugh at how far from the truth that is. You might have decided to better your hostile relationship but that doesn't mean you want to be friends or worse... <<elseif $lorcanthought >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. You almost laugh at how far from the truth that is. You might have decided to better your hostile relationship but that doesn't mean you want to be friends or worse... <<elseif $nonfap >>\ You try not to smile as you say “rules are meant to be broken, are they not?” She just looks at you and then goes back to filing. <<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. The imsinuation is clear and unwanted. Even if there were something there, which there isn't, it would obviously be one-sided and not from his side. <<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>\ You break eye contact and look down at your hands. You almost laugh at how far from the truth that is. You might have decided to better your hostile relationship but that doesn't mean you want to be friends or worse...<</if>>\ \“Don't think I've forgotten what the topic at hand is,” Nia presses. <hr>\ * [[“I was asking about Candace.”]] * [[“It was about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> The expression Nia has on her face is nothing sort of withering.<<if $masturbationImre>> “Let's get something clear, I don't compete with other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $imrethought>> “Let's get something clear, I don't compete for other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan>> “Let's get something clear, I don't have compete for other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the space next to you.<<elseif $lorcanthought>> “Let's get something clear, I don't have compete for other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the space next to you.<<elseif $nonfap>> “Let's get something clear, I don't have compete for other people“ she replies. “Truthfully you'd be the one running after me if we're on the topic of romantic interest.”<<elseif $nonfap2Imre>>“Let's get something clear, I don't compete for other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the driver's seat.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan>>“Let's get something clear, I don't have compete for other people“ she replies. “Apart from that I already know he'd have a headstart.” She jerks her head to the space next to you.<</if>> <<if $masturbationImre>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You never thought she would say something so stupid. Even imagining you and Imre like that could make you cringe. You two aren't on the same universe, much less the same level. He's also clearly hiding something from you under that mask of goodness.<<elseif $imrethought>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You never thought she would say something so stupid. Even imagining you and Imre like that could make you cringe. You two aren't on the same universe, much less the same level. He's also clearly hiding something from you under that mask of goodness.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You could hit her for saying something not only psychotic but also disgusting. You'd rather be accused of liking Old creepy Mr. Ewekes than that blond menace.<<elseif $lorcanthought>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You could hit her for saying something not only psychotic but also disgusting. You'd rather be accused of liking Old creepy Mr. Ewekes than that blond menace.<<elseif $nonfap>> You snort derisively and shake your head. That makes her smile and you ignore the little twitch your stomach makes.<<elseif $nonfap2Imre>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You never thought she would say something so stupid. Even imagining you and Imre like that could make you cringe. You two aren't on the same universe, much less the same level. He's also clearly hiding something from you under that mask of goodness.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan>>You inhale as deep as you can to ease your frustration. You could hit her for saying something not only psychotic but also disgusting. You'd rather be accused of liking Old creepy Mr. Ewekes than that blond menace.<</if>> “That was a poor attempt to get me off-topic,” Nia emphasizes. <hr>\ * [[“I was asking about Candace.”]] * [[“It was about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> “Candace who?” she asks. You move closer to her, wanting to get a better view of her face, even though you know that with someone like her it's useless. “Apparently she came before Stephanie, dead too,” you say. <<set $candace to true>> She looks looks out the window, you can see her reflection in the glass. You don't know if the pause is due to her trying to figure out what to say or if she's trying to remember. <<set $carnia to true>> “Oh yes, her. Where is there to say? She dragged herself from god-knows-where and ruined the fair by collapsing in the middle of it. You can read it in the papers from June in the library,” she says drily. You would almost think her narcissistic but it is true that a girl dying in the middle of the fair does ruin it. She just has a heartless way of saying it. “Did you know her at all? Ever talked to her? Heard any rumors or theories on who could've killed her or how they killed her?” you ask. To each question she shakes her head no, except for the last one. She gives you a pointed look and says, “obviously she died due to her injuries. Her foot was cut off, her eyes was missing, she was bleeding so profusely it was hard to tell what wasn't an injury.” You look to the lights from the radio, you see your eyebrows pinch together. <<if $sbtwo>> “Did you see or hear from anyone if she had any lines on her?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>> “Ok so you're basically a deadend here?” <</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You see Nia in your periphery turn her head in your direction, “lines? What kind of lines?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You see Nia turn to look at you from the reflection of the window, “I don't know why you would ever think I wouldn't be.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You meet her look. “Kind of like carvings? Not the lines that come from scratches, something probably done with a knife,” you theorize.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You meet her look, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. “The Nia Mir doesn't know something color me surprised“ you tease. Nia rolls her eyes at you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Her eyes don't waver from yours, blinking ocassionally but without speaking for what seems like one minute. “Why are you asking me this?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Silence once again.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You begin to answer but she interrupts you “you know what? I don't want to know. But no, I don't know of any carvings of any kind of any bodies and I don't want to know.” There's a finality to her tone that tells you to move on.\<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You decide to try something else.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“There was also some Stephanie stuff.”->“It was about Stephanie.”]] <<if $imremovies>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif not $imremovies>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<</if>>\ <<if $lorcanmovies>>* ==You talk to Lorcan.==<<elseif not $lorcanmovies>>* [[You talk to Lorcan.->In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ * [[You go silent.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3> “I'm surprised you haven't asked about her.” “Why would I do that?” You shrug and say “well we did all find her body. We were all questioned by the police and you know I was at the hospital to go to the morgue.” She has the most uninterested look on her face, you've seen her get like this when she would retell any of Imre's paranormal interests or in English class. “So? That has nothing to do with me. I'm not the police and I don't care to shove my nose in all that. I prefer to worry about me, being a girl I am a target,” she says. <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“I'm a girl too. I'm a target. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I don't know if whatever is out there cares much about guys like me but maybe I might be in danger too. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter. You feel that same distaste in your mouth as you always have when calling yourself a man.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“Ok, I don't know what that's like. I'm not the preferred victim but since you're a girl wouldn't you want to get to the bottom of this? To save yourself in the future?” you counter.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I'm a girl too. I'm a target. And isn't that a good reason to want to know about all of this? To prevent it from happening to us?” you counter. You feel that same distaste in your mouth as you always have when calling yourself a woman.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“Fine, I don't know if whatever this murderer is cares much about binary views of gender or not. Whatever is between my legs could either fuck me or not. But if I was a girl like you, I might want to figure all this out to prevent my early death“ you counter. You hate how stupid this all is, as if genitalia should put us in a box.<</if>> Nia shakes her head incredulously “don't you see that it could do the opposite? That getting involved in this could put you and me directly in its line of vision?” You sigh and accept that it could. “The police aren't doing anything Nia. You could be dead either way“ you say. She just looks at you. <hr>\ * [[“There was also some talk about Candace.”->“I was asking about Candace.”]] <<if $imremovies>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif $carimre>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif not $imremovies>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<<elseif not $carimre>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<</if>>\ <<if $lorcanmovies>>* ==You talk to Lorcan.==<<elseif not $lorcanmovies>>* [[You talk to Lorcan.->In the middle at the back. Close to Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ * [[You go silent.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3> Imre raises his eyebrows. “Oh, interesting. Well you could be sociable with me, we might even develop a friendship of sorts“ he proposes. “From what Nia would tell me about you, you're not the type to make friends just because. You do it so that you can get something out of them“ you answer, a small smile on your face. “However that may be, you didn't say you don't want to be friends“ he claims. You sigh and look at the passing scenery. Maintaining your gaze on the rapidly disappearing buildings, you say “I think we're a few conversations short of friendship.” Imre hums and you feel his eyes on your face “don't worry, we'll have them if we keep seeing each other as frequently as we have in the last month.” You don't refute or confirm that. It's not like you're the expert on friendship. Your eyes take notice of his clothes. He's the best dressed boy in town, probably because he can afford it but a lot of boys in town are rich too and they dress as in the dark. “By graduation we might even be the best of friends. I'll even write a smiley face on your yearbook. That's how much you'll trust and like me“ he declares in a cheeky tone. <<set $ImreP += 1>> You quirk your eyebrow at him. He's confidence is either due to surety or arrogance. You can never tell with him, he says everything with earnestness. A powerful friend to have but also an enemy. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Nia might get jealous if I take her spot as your number one girl friend“ you joke. Imre laughs.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Me being your number one boy friend, a coveted spot indeed“ you joke. Imre laughs.<</if>> The car feels warmer, more peaceful talking to Imre. At least he managed to do that. Your mouth moves into a genuine smile Imre doesn't see. “Ok, you've distracted me enough. Now, please answer my original question“ Imre says. “What were you two talking about out there?” <hr>\ * [[“I asked about Candace.”]] * [[“We were talking about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> “Instead of going about this in a roundabout way“ you advise. Lorcan's head whips around so fast you think he could've broken it. <<if $masturbationImre >>\ “I thought jokes were supposed to be funny! Did you boyfriend put you up to this?” he glares at Imre. <<elseif $imrethought >>\ “I thought jokes were supposed to be funny! Did you boyfriend put you up to this?” he glares at Imre. <<elseif $masturbationNia >>\ “I thought jokes were supposed to be funny! Did you girlfriend put you up to this?” he glares at Nia. <<elseif $niathought >>\ “I thought jokes were supposed to be funny! Did you girlfriend put you up to this?” he glares at Nia. <<elseif $nonfap >>\ “If you're trying to fuck with me it's not going to work“ he claims. “Get better material.”<</if>>\ <<if $masturbationImre >>\ Your heart hammers in your chest, you hope Imre didn't hear that. “You've completely lost your mind, haven't you? That's not even—“ you just shake your head and clamp your mouth shut. <<elseif $imrethought >>\ Your heart hammers in your chest, you hope Imre didn't hear that. “You've completely lost your mind, haven't you? That's not even—“ you just shake your head and clamp your mouth shut. <<elseif $masturbationNia >>\ Your heart hammers in your chest, you hope Nia didn't hear that. “Wow just wow. This one of the most unfunny and off-the-mark things I've ever heard“ you shake your head and clamp your mouth shut. <<elseif $niathought >>\ Your heart hammers in your chest, you hope Nia didn't hear that. “Wow just wow. This one of the most unfunny and off-the-mark things I've ever heard“ you shake your head and clamp your mouth shut. <<elseif $nonfap >>\ A feeling of irritation spreads throughout your face. Everything to him is like an attack. Maybe you should stop trying. But for some confusing and contradictory reason you feel fascinated by what he has to say, how he views things. It wouldn't be awful for him to tell you things.<</if>>\ \“Anyway fuck off with trying to avoid the question. What were you two doing out there?” he asks. * [[“I wanted to know about Candace.”]] * [[“I was curious about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3>“Your stupid excuses are so clearly obvious. You probably have my name written over and over again in a notebook somewhere“ you snark. Lorcan's head whips around so fast you think he could've broken it.<<if $masturbationImre >> “Put thought into it huh? Maybe you're the one who's fucking obssessed with me and with pretty boy“ he says and grimaces at Imre's back.<<elseif $imrethought >> “Put thought into it huh? Maybe you're the one who's fucking obssessed with me and with pretty boy“ he says and grimaces at Imre's back.<<elseif $masturbationNia >> “Put thought into it huh? Maybe you're the one who's fucking obssessed with me and with the ice princess“ he says and shoots a look at Nia.<<elseif $niathought >> “Put thought into it huh? Maybe you're the one who's fucking obssessed with me and with the ice princess“ he says and shoots a look at Nia.<<elseif $nonfap >> “How is it to be this fucking crazy? Maybe you love all the people who are unlucky to be in your eyesight but I don't and much less you“ he says, his face redding.<</if>> <<if $masturbationImre >>Your nails dig into your palms and you imagine throwing Lorcan out the car. “So much shit comes out of your mouth you might be a clogged toilet“ you snap. Even if Imre was the last person on Earth, you wouldn't touch him with a pole.<<elseif $imrethought >>Your nails dig into your palms and you imagine throwing Lorcan out the car. “So much shit comes out of your mouth you might be a clogged toilet“ you snap. Even if Imre was the last person on Earth, you wouldn't touch him with a pole.<<elseif $masturbationNia >>Your nails dig into your palms and you imagine throwing Lorcan out the car. “So much shit comes out of your mouth you might be a clogged toilet“ you snap. If you had a list of people you were romantically interested in she'd be the last one on it. Hell, she wouldn't even be written down.<<elseif $niathought >> Your nails dig into your palms and you imagine throwing Lorcan out the car. “So much shit comes out of your mouth you might be a clogged toilet“ you snap. If you had a list of people you were romantically interested in she'd be the last one on it. Hell, she wouldn't even be written down.<<elseif $nonfap >>You laugh and say “it's not my fault that it looks like you love me when you do everything you can to remain in my life.” Lorcan glares at you so hard it looks like he's trying to get your head to explode.<</if>> “You know what Crown? Fuck whatever tangent you wanna go down. I asked a question. What were you two doing out there?” <hr>\ * [[“I wanted to know about Candace.”]] * [[“I was curious about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> Lorcan stares at you as if you've started talking Latin. “My self-preservation prevents me from being nice to bloodsucking monsters. Any-fucking-way you've earned it.” You roll your eyes and say “I admit I haven't been the kindest to you in the past but we're adults now, right? Shouldn't we move on from 'this'?” you motion to him and you. “Easy for you to say. I haven't done to you what you did to me asshole“ he mumbles, a sullen look on his face. You sigh heavily and think of what to say.”So what? You want to continue like this until we both drop dead?” you ask, imagining you and Lorcan in a nursing home, bickering. Lorcan crosses his arms and looks at the headtrest infront of him “since lunatics rarely live long full lives you'll probably die before I do so I won't have to wait long.” You don't contest that. He's not right about all people like you, but in your individual case, you do have a tendency to get into violent and dangerous situations. You look at his pale elbow sticking out his leather jacket, it's been torn forever. “You don't keep out of trouble either. We could very well die at the same time or close enough. And isn't that a mark of true enemies? If you were nicer it could be a mark of true friendship“ you jest. “Ugh“ he says. He looks at you and says “if that happens I'll know that God hates me.” You might have lost it but for some reason the idea of trying to be friends or at least friendly with Lorcan might not be the worst thing. Maybe if you keep trying to be friendly to him, he'd actually crack, either from forgiving you or because he short circuits. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You try to give contort your face into what you hope is a nice expression and say “it wouldn't kill you to be a gentleman to a someone who's trying to be a lady.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You try to give contort your face into what you hope is a nice expression and say “have you ever thought it'd be a good idea to make some friends. Be nice to other boys?”<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I can be a gentlemen, but I don't see a lady“ he says with a smirk. You smirk right back at him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're a boy? I thought you're mom had birthed a demon“ he says with a smirk. You smirk right back at him.<</if>> Oddly enough, this back and forth has made the atmosphere in the car seem much less awkward. He's actually useful for something. Pigs might start flying tomorrow. “Anyway... what the fuck were you two doing out there?” he asks. <hr>\ * [[“I wanted to know about Candace.”]] * [[“I was curious about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3>“Who the hell is Candace?” he asks tartly. You give him a penetrating look while he looks puzzled. “She was the dead girl of the town before Stephanie... she got the fair cancelled... does this really not sound at all familiar to you?” you ask as you see him looking more lost, the more you say. He looks up and rolls his tongue around his mouth, his thinking face. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, what's the point if he can't see it? His eyes lower and his face takes on that perpentual scowl it always does with you. “Yeah, I totally fucking forgot that happened. It actually pissed me off because I didn't even get to win anything. And!“ he emphasizes when he sees you're about to ask something “no I don't know shit. I never talked to her, I didn't know she was missing and I don't know what happened to her after.” Your eyes narrow as you search his face for any deceit. Lorcan bristles at your attention and looks away, still annoyed but also not comfortable with you looking so intensely at him. You can't tell if he's lying or not. Usually it's very easy to know when he is, he's an exceptionally obvious liar. Maybe he's gotten better. “But you didn't see anything strange about her that night? Anything that felt out of place or was could give me any indication of why she was specifically targeted?” you ask, irritation seeping into your words. The expression on Lorcan's face is what you would call someone who believes they're talking to an idiot. “Are you stupid or something? Nevermind I know the answer to that. She was fucking bleeding everywhere, I think a foot was missing and she died! Obviously there was something strange about that“ Lorcan sneers. <<if $sbtwo>>You ignore his insults for the time being and ask “any marks, and symbols etched into her skin that you could see?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“I can't believe I have to point out that I meant anything apart from that“ you chide. Lorcan throws daggers at you.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Well I didn't exactly go up to her and start feelin' her up if that's what you mean. Go ask a fucking coroner“ he retorts. You groan, exasperated. You have thoughts of strangling him and by the way his body tenses you know that he's thinking the same thing.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“Because you're a fucking freak and all you can't blame me for thinking you want to get off to all the gorey details“ he spits. You have thoughts of strangling him and by the way his body tenses you know that he's thinking the same thing.<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You try to say as slowly and calmly as you can, “why the fuck can't you answer a basic question without being a complete ass about it? You didn't see any marks? Fine! Just say that.”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You try to keep your voice even as you say the next words, “you could've just said 'no.' No need to waste more breath.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“Maybe your amnesiac ass forgot that I hate you and make it my mission that every time I see you I would make you day worse. Mission accomplished“ he says with a cruel smile.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>“And deprive you of my voice? I'm not that much of an asshole“ he sassy with a cruel smile.<</if>> <<if $stephanie>>“As you know, Stephanie had something on her too you idiot. That's why I was asking“ you say but he just shrugs, uncaring.<<elseif not $stephanie>>You wait a few moments before you ask anything else. Your inner voice cursing.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“I was curious about Stephanie.”]] <<if $imremovies>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif $carimre>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif not $imremovies>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<<elseif $carimre>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<</if>>\ <<if $niamovies>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif $carnia>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif not $niamovies>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<<elseif not $carnia>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<</if>>\ * [[You let the conversation die.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3> “Did you notice anything about her when you found her? Anything about her body?” “You mean apart from the fact that she was dismembered?” “That should go without saying, Lorcan. You were the only one of us who actually saw her,” you lie. <<set $stephanie to true>> Lorcan's eye twitches. He chews on his lip and seems to have gone paler than he already is. The moonlight streaming throught the window giving him a skeletal hue. “No actually, I was too busy freaking the fuck out because there was a dead body there I didn't have time to take out my camera and notepad dumbass“ he snarks, his voice slightly shaky.”If you want to get off to corpses go look at the news.” <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “being a boy it might be hard for you to understand but my life is literally in danger along with every other girl.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.' >>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “look I haven't sat down to theorize if a murderer isn't a hateful asshole to care about my biology when I was born but I'm a girl in all the ways that matter and I'm sure I'm a target too.”<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “I know it's hard for you to give a shit about others but just because I'm not a girl doesn't mean I feel safe. Nor do I want girls to be murdered left and right.”<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “look I haven't sat down to theorize if a murderer isn't a hateful asshole to care about my biology when I was born but I'm a boy in all the ways that matter but I'm not so sure I'm not still a target.”<<elseif $sexanswer is 'whether you were born female or male is irrelevant to how you view yourself and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>“I'm not trying to 'get off' to anything you—“ you stop yourself and add with conviction “I'm not sure I could sit down with a killer and ask them if ideas of gender outside the traditional forms are relevant or not to them so I might actually still be on a kill list due to whatever the hell I piss with.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Lorcan rolls his eyes but with no real malice and says “I might've had time to really look at her before the police came. What's really weird is that she had some lines—“<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Lorcan rolls his eyes but with no real malice and says “I might've had time to really look at her before the police came. What's really weird is that she had some lines on her stomach it looked like it was supposed to look like something, a symbol.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>“—on her stomach“ you finish. “Lines that were were made to look like something, right?” you ask.<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You take in this new information. Lines? Like a mark? A tag? Something that brands them as belonging to the killer?<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Lorcan squints at you “how do you know that?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You must have a look on your face because Lorcan asks “what?”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>You put on as innoent a face as you can “wild guess?”<<elseif not $sbtwo>>You give him a casual glance, “nothing.”<</if>> <<if $sbtwo>>Just as it looks like he's about to say something you quicky ask...<<elseif not $sbtwo>>Just as it looks like he's about to say something you...<</if>> * [[Ask about Candace.->“I wanted to know about Candace.”]] <<if $imremovies>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif $carimre>>* ==You talk to Imre.==<<elseif not $imremovies>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<<elseif $carimre>>* [[You talk to Imre.->In the front with Imre.]]<</if>>\ <<if $niamovies>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif $carnia>>* ==You talk to Nia.==<<elseif not $niamovies>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<<elseif not $carnia>>* [[You talk to Nia.->In the middle at the back. Close to Nia.]]<</if>>\ * [[Let the conversation die.->Page 247]] </h3>

<h3> Nia hums, stops herself from filing and examines the result. “Good luck with that. Especially with that alliance you have with Imre, it'd be easier to be Imre's enemy than it is to be his friend“ she says nonchalantly. “You seem to be doing well in that. At least I haven't seen you suffering next to him“ you state. <<set $NiaP += 1>> Nia shakes her head and says “I can handle him. I just don't know if you can, Birdie.” Your face twitches when you hear that name. So many memories. “Are you warning me because you care for me or because you don't want me to get in between you and him?” you ask. “If you still remember how I am, you'd know the answer“ she says with a cheeky tone. You sigh and look at the road ahead of you. “I don't know if I miss your way of giving non-answers to everything or not.” You hear the filing again. “I might've learned that from you. You're not exactly the most open person $name“ she says. “Huh“ you say. Which ironically proves her right. Truth be told while on the outside you two might not have much in common, certainly traits are shared. You don't know who rubbed off on who. Neither of you talk for a few minutes. You two have always found it comfortable to fall into silence. No anxiety about keeping up conversation that others seem to have. Companiable silence is a rarity many don't give you. You don't think they give it to her either. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“So, in my absence, do you have a new girl bestfriend or is my spot indefinitely reserved“ you ask. Nia blows on the tip of her nail.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“So, in my absence, do you have a new guy bestfriend or is my spot indefinitely reserved“ you ask. Nia blows on the tip of her nail.<</if>> Right now your heart speeds up. You don't like this reaction. You don't understand it. It's not like it's the end of the world. “I'll answer that question another day. Right now, what I find more interesting is what you and that boy were talking about outside the movies“ she says. The implication is that she wants you to tell her what you two have been doing. <hr>\ * [[“I was asking about Candace.”]] * [[“It was about Stephanie.”]] </h3>

<h3> The car stops in front of a set of high black metal gates. A security guard in a little booth peeks his head out and gives a thumbs up when he sees who's driving. The gates automatically push open with a groan. You catch the broad sign in black letters against a white backdrop: 'SEABIRD ESTATES: //FLY AS HIGH AS YOU CAN//.' Nia like most of the kids who either have chauffeurs or drive some pretty expensive cars, lives here. This area — as designated for the rich — is almost as old as Croun Manor. It's deliberate that the Crowns live apart from the rest of the high-class society in town. The gated neighborhood itself is only two streets, one behind the other with the first street allowing no access through its houses to the other one. To get to it you need to drive to either of the two ends of the street where there are the corners that have their own little tiny gates that need to be manually pushed open by the driver. The streets themselves are identical in their nature if not their houses. Tall trees are packed in between each house, separating them. The leaves so luscious that they hide the grandeur of the houses themselves. Most of what can be see are lights peeking through the leaves and the front doors with their porches or stairs and driveways. These trees aren't native to here. The ones that once grew here were cut down because the original settlers thought they were tacky and didn't mesh well with the vision they had for Seabird Estates. Apparently the seeds that grew these trees are from Brazil. The only reason you know all this is because the Seabird kids like to loudly brag that they live in the best and safest spot in town. Imre slows the car parallel to the sidewalk in front of Nia's house. She leans forward and squeezes Imre's shoulders before slipping out the car without a word to Lorcan. Before she closes the door she looks at you. Do you go after her? <hr>\ * [[Yes.->Page 248*]] * [[No.->Page 248]] </h3>

<h3> “Nia!“ you shout. <<set $Niawait to true>> She turns around as you get out of the car, practically speed-walk to her. You stop in front of her, the grass of her lawn touching your calves. She looks you up and down before saying, “I'm tired and it's late, and this might sound mean but I'm not up to have a long conversation with you and I don't know when I will be.” You look at the running car and hope that the others aren't watching before quickly saying, “it's kind of ironic that you need time when it's me who should be pissed.” She crosses her arms and gives you a haughty look, “and are you pissed?” “If you want to know that then talk to me. The more you push it off, the less friendly it'll be,” you reply, too tired yourself to add much emotion behind your words. She pushes her hair back and looks towards her front door. “Believe me, there are reasons I'm not too keen to divulge why I've done things that I've done,” she admits, her voice not soft but quieter. “What reasons?” you ask. <<set $birdietruth to true>> Maintaining her eyes on her front door she merely responds with, “you wouldn't understand, I don't understand much of it.” You let out a frustrated growl, “I can't understand if you don't tell me, Nia.” Nia closes her eyes and breathes in. When she opens them again they've gone cold as she fixes them on you. “Give it time, Birdie.” Your fingers clench and unclench as you try to calm yourself from exploding at her. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Yeah that's me, stupid $name with a bird-sized brain who does nothing but live in her shit-covered cage letting others feed her and care for her because she's too weak to do it herself,” you seethe.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Yeah that's me, stupid $name with a bird-sized brain who does nothing but live in his shit-covered cage letting others feed him and care for him because he's too weak to do it himself,” you seethe.<</if>> Nia scoffs and doesn't answer for a few seconds. When she does, her face is almost mocking, “is your self-esteem so low that you think I call you Birdie because I think you're weak? Not everything is primed to make you the victim.” You press your mouth into a grim line. She walks away, the darkness of the night contrasted with the light from the porchlights making her quickly into only a silhouette. <<if $masturbationNia>>“I call you Birdie because you're beautiful, you idiot“ she yells.<<elseif $niathought>>“I call you Birdie because you're beautiful, you idiot“ she yells.<<elseif $niafriend>>“I call you Birdie because you're strong, you idiot“ she yells.<<elseif not $masturbationNia>>“I call you Birdie because you're strong, you idiot“ she yells.<<elseif not $niathought>>“I call you Birdie because you're strong, you idiot“ she yells.<<elseif not $niafriend>>“I call you Birdie because you're strong“ she yells. <</if>> You watch her until the front door closes behind her and walk back to the car. Your mind crowded with her words. [[NEXT->Page 249]] </h3>

<h3> You watch her silhoutte outlined by the front porchlights. Imre only begins driving when Nia walks into her house. Maybe you should've gone after her. If not because you want to be friends again but maybe for answers. At the very least you deserve closure to a years long friendship, no? Maybe you just don't care anymore. Either way the car pulls away from the sidewalk and does a U-turn before driving back to the gate. [[NEXT->Page 249]] </h3>

<h3> The rest of the ride seems quicker despite the fact that your home is further away than Nia's. Lorcan groans when the car passes Camelot in the Meadows without stopping. “You passed my stop dumbass“ Lorcan complains. Imre looks at Lorcan in the front-view mirror and with a teasing tone says “did I? My mistake. We'll just drop these two off and then you and I can spend some quality time-together Lorcan Stark.” Lorcan sighs and presses his face against the cold window. A few minutes later, the yellow lights of the manor's front porch shine into the car interior. Imre slowly stops as close to the front steps as he can and shakes your brother. Percy moans and swats his hand away, slipping further down into his seat. He mumbles something unintelligable and smacks his lips a few times. Imre swears and looks to you. “Do you think you can handle him or do you want one of us to help you?” <hr>\ * [[“Can you help me, Imre?”->Page 250]] * [[“Lorcan, you help me.”->Page 250*]] * [[“I can manage.”]] </h3>

<h3> Imre smiles at you and then gets out of the car. Percy tries to swat both of your hands out of the way and Imre has slap him to get him to stop. You both watch and hope that that wakes him up as his eyes slowly open. He looks dazedly around and then closes his eyes, head falling sideways. “Guevon de mierda“ Imre curses. “Get that side and it'll get this one“ he instructs you. Between the both of you, you drag your brother out of the car, Lorcan pushing him out too. Percy dangles in between you both as you trudge up the steps, his weight nearly making you slip on the porch. Imre pushes open the door and you both drag your brother inside. Once he's a few feet in you both let him go. He falls flat to the floor, his head bouncing off the dark wood. “If he asks about any bumps tomorrow, tell him he hit his head off the window“ Imre says with a grin. You grin and move your foot out from under one of Percy's legs. You feel him look at you and you meet his eyes. His expression is joyful, the warm light of the chandelier deepening his tan skin. <hr>\ * [[♥️ He holds out a hand.->Page 251]] * [[♡ “What? Do you want a medal?”]] * [[⟡ “Goodnight, Imre.”]] * [[“Bye.”]] </h3>

<h3> Lorcan huffs and mutters something under his breath but throws the car door open. Percy swats at both of you when you try to touch him and Lorcan starts wrestling his hands down. He braces his foot against the seat and strains to drag your brother out of the car. Lorcan lands with a thud and your brother lands on top of him. “Cocksucker“ Lorcan grunts and pushes your brother off. He stands up and says “well? Are going to help or not?” You both hold him in between you and struggle to up the stairs. Percy's deadweight makes your legs almost give out but you keep upright, Percy's leaning more on Lorcan than you. Lorcan kicks the door, but it doesn't it budge. You roll your eyes and twist the knob. Then Lorcan kicks it open. The three of you are barely inside before Lorcan lets your brother's arm slip off his shoulders and slam to the ground, nearly taking you with him. “Stupid fuck is going to wake up with a splitter tomorrow“ Lorcan insists. You nod in agreement. Both of look at each other at the same time. His face glistening in the warm light from the sweat. <hr>\ * [[♥️ You try to thank him.->Page 251*]] * [[♡ “You can fuck off now.”]] * [[⟡ “Thanks.”]] * [[You give him a blank look.]] </h3>

<h3> You open the door and try to grab your brother's arm but he slaps it away. You shake, as mild irritation spikes in your chest. You yank his ear and he moans before falling into a snore. You grab his arm and haul him out. Your knees buckling under his weight. Percy is skinny but his dead-weight is pretty fucking heavy. Somehow, due to a divine miracle or some unknown strength you manage to throw his arm over your shoulders and wobble your way up the porch. Pushing open the door nearly makes you slip under the weight but you hold on and drag him inside. Once you're a few feet in, you unceremoniously let him fall onto his face. He moans and then tucks his arms under his cheek. You go to the door and watch the car retreating as you push it closed. You can't even begin to make out all that happened tonight. Your head pounding against all the little bits of information. Oh well, that's a problem for tomorrow. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> You look down at it before taking it. Your hand feels weak inside his firm grip. The contradiction between his strong hand and the softness of his palm and fingers makes you smile. <<set $handimre to true>> Your thumb presses into his wrist, you can feel his heartbeat slightly picking up. His finger rubs the skin at the end of palm, sending a current throughout your arm. You pull your hand back and stick it in your pocket. Imre looks at your hand and then looks back into your face, blinking as if he can't understand something.<<set $ImreRF += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I'll be seeing you, nena“ he says with a casual smile and walks out the door.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I'll be seeing you, nene“ he says with a casual smile and walks out the door.<</if>> You lean your hand against the frame of the door and watch his retreating form. He throws a glance over his shoulder that doesn't leave all the way to the car. You watch until the car reverses and turns down the dirt path. You close the door and lean against it. Your hand tingling all the while in your pocket. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> “Likewise“ Imre replies and taking one last glance at your sleeping brother, he walks out the front door. You watch his retreating form for a second before shutting the door. You wait until you hear the sounds of the car faraway to step around your brother and take on the stairs. You can't even begin to make out all that happened tonight. Your head pounding against all the little bits of information. Oh well, that's a problem for tomorrow. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> __ ''//LAST TIME ON WE WRETCHED CREATURES...//''__ °°°° //Arthur shakes his head vigorously, his look of sadness replaced by urgency “no no I'm not, you are because all this does happen here. I guess I'm trying to say that after the first girl was found the mayor didn't think another would be, that's why I feel bad.”// °°°° //You notice that her pink lipstick has stained her two front teeth. “I was wondering if I could see Miss Stephanie Burrows' body.”// °°°° //“You go through your life never thinking about anything you do because in the end you're not the one who has to clean up or take care whether you're five, ten or eighteen.”// °°°° //He closes his eyes for a moment before looking at all you and declaring “I think Orla was killed by the same thing that killed the other girls. I think she's a victim and I won't stop until I find out what and who killed her.”// //[[THIS EPISODE'S SPONSOR->Episode 4 Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3> “Knowing you, you won't accept it but thank you“ you say. Lorcan yawns as he speaks “you don't know me as well as you think you do.” “Oh really?” you ask, your lips quivering. “Uh huh“ he says. “You feeling grateful enough to humillate yourself by thanking me is the highlight of my week. I am totally and completely superior and better and more amazing than you“ he says with a self-satsified grin. You snort and cross your arms. “You are truly an unbelievable human being Lorcan Stark“ you say sarcastically. He does an exaggerated bow and when he comes back up his face looks younger somehow with the lack of grimace. “It's high-time that you finally admitted it, took you twelve fucking years.” You nod as your eyes travel his face. His smile illuminates his eyes. You two stand there for a moment, both smiling. You feel like you want to say something but Lorcan blinks rapidly and his smile drops. He looks away and the spell is broken. <<set $smilelorcan to true>> “Anyway that's my good deed for the day. Seriously, never mention it again“ he stalks out the door. You go to the door frame and watch as he walks to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door and gives you a look so intense you grip the door frame. You watch until the car reverses and turns down the dirt path. You close the door and lean against it. You press your hand against your chest. You hadn't how hard it was beating. It picks up speed when you think of the last look he gave you. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> You really want him out and if you say anything he'll stay just to fight. He looks you up and down, kicks your brother's foot out of the way and stalks out the front door, You waste no time in shutting the door, although you do catch him muttering to himself about the ungrateful brattiness of people nowadays. You close the door gently and walk around your fallen brother. You wait until you hear the sounds of the car faraway to step around your brother and taken on the stairs. You can't even begin to make out all that happened tonight. Your head pounding against all the little bits of information. Oh well, that's a problem for tomorrow. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> You cross your arms and stare at him with an umimpressed expression. Imre tsks at your reaction and runs a hand through his hair, out of habit or frustation. “A thank you would be nice. You know 'thank you dear Imre for taking the time to drive me and my brother home and then also carrying him inside',” he huffs, annoyance flashing through his eyes. <<set $wallimre to true>> You chuckle and look down at your fallen brother. “You know I might laugh at your jokes to my brother's expense but I still don't like you. I still think there's something really fake and horrible about you,” you say. Imre takes a step forward and you take a step back. “What are you—“ you begin to say when he takes another step and another one. You quickly move backwards as he keeps advancing, a smirk spreading throughout his face. Your back hits the wall and just as you move to slip away, Imre hits the his palms against the wall on either side of your ears, making you flinch as the sound of the smack echoes throughout the door. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He leans forward and you tilt your head back, your chin jutting out. His eyes wonder to your mouth and he says, “there's something fake and horrible about you. But isn't this fun, nena?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He leans forward and you tilt your head back, your chin jutting out. His eyes wonder to your mouth and he says, “there's something fake and horrible about you. But Isn't this fun, nene?”<</if>> You swallow and grip the wall behind you. Imre's eyes climb to yours and he pushes himself back. The smirk is gone, his face blank. Blinking as if nothing happened at all. He shrugs and walks out the door. You remain pressed against the wall. Not moving even as you hear the car pull away. Your breath comes out shallow. Barely audible in between your breathing is the word “bastard“ over and over again. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> You jerk your thumb to the door, your eyebrows lowering. Lorcan scoffs and kicks your brother's foot out of the way “I was fucking planning on it. What? You think I want to spend anymore time with you?” “Good because I don't want to spend anymore time with you!“ you whisper-yell furiously. Lorcan takes a step forward and you do the same. You meet his piercing gaze head-on, your mouth set. “What are you going to do Crowny? Manhandle me out?” he taunts. You take another step forward and so does he. “Yeah dipshit maybe I fucking will“ you drawl. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Between gritted teeth Lorcan says “touch me then, bitch.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Between gritted teeth Lorcan says “touch me then, fucker.”<</if>>In your mind you see yourself wrapping your hands around his thin neck, feeling the bones break under your skin. As you vividly see that scene, you feel your fingers twitch and accidentally skim his pant leg. <<set $touchlorcan to true>> Lorcan jumps back as if you electrocuted him. He looks down from his thigh to your curled fingers. You use those fingers to clutch your leg; the tips of them, hot. Lorcan swallows and is mouth moves back and forth as if he's wants to say something. Maybe it's the lighting but you swear you see a bloom on his cheeks. “I don't need this shit. Fuck you and your fucking fingers“ he snaps and stalks out the door, breathing heavily. You feel an urge to go to the door frame and watch him leave — obviously to make sure he leaves — but you hold back and shut the door without looking out of it. You lean against it and stare up at the chandelier. You wipe a hand across your forehead. You hear the angry and excited gasps leave your open mouth. The memory of his thigh beneath his pants makes you nails dig into the wood of the door. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> He holds out his hand and you take it. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> He smiles and says “goodnight, pelada.” You nod and you both drop your hands.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He smiles and says “goodnight, pelado.” You nod and you both drop your hands.<</if>> You watch his retreating form. Once he gets into the car you wave at him until the car reverses and turns down the dirt path. You close the door gently and walk around your fallen brother. It looks like you're making new friends. You wonder how that will turn out. It might not even last but the idea of having someone else that isn't your blood is an interesting opportunity. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> Lorcan gives you a look in response that recalls to you the look someone makes when they sniff expired milk. “Oh, fuck you“ he says with a petulant tone to his voice and stalks out the door. You walk to the door frame and see him open the door to the passenger side of the car. He notices you at the door and makes sure to give you a disasteful look before sliding in. You wave for a moment and through the window you see Lorcan glowering at you. You close the door gently and walk around your fallen brother. It looks like you're making new friends. You wonder how that will turn out. It might not even last but the idea of having someone else that isn't your blood is an interesting opportunity. Everything has changed. Everything is changing. And so are you. [[NEXT->Page 252]] </h3>

<h3> //Is your refrigerator running? Please don't go catch it if you don't want to die a most painful and slow death! And don't accept it back with loving arms either! That's no longer the fridge you once knew and loved. Do you find yourself yearning for a refrigerator that won't leave you? That's loving hum lulls you to sleep? Whose glowing blue eyes watch over your dreams? Well we have the perfect replacement for you! THE BEELZEBUB 2010 is the our newest model in our 2000 line. A sleek design, the most advanced cooling technology and it hardly ever groans! We heard the complaints from the 2009 model, the seeping blood, the trapping of children within the freezer and the half eaten ice cream tubs. We have tested the 2010 model with real live children and they are able to unlock the freezer from within! No more defrosting! Apart from the new design and added benefits, THE BEELZEBUB 2010 works just like any other functional refrigerator in town. It answers calls with a menacing demonic voice, it pursues ding-dong-ditchers with a vengeance and tucks you into bed like all other appliances of its kind. Make sure to order yours today before they run out! Or your other traitor refrigerator comes back. This message has been brought to you by The Company That Doesn't Exist for Tax Purposes, if you are not any government agency please call 127-// [[NEXT->Sex choice.]] </h3>

<h2> S1 EPISODE 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Drown </h2> <h3>//''From the private notes of Dr. Olga Madorna concerning patient 27''// ''//Dated March 1993//'' //Today I managed broach the subject of C's older brother. It is a topic that for many months now we have both been toeing, C shows a reluctance to speak about their family. I have tried to probe the reasons for this but so far I've been unsuccessful. From the brief snippets of information C's been willing to give me, $hisher brother is the family member most closest to $himher. It is strange then that the patient seems hesitant to converse about him. I'll see if I can get more in the next session.// ''//Dated March 1993//'' //$capitalhisher brother is named Salvatore, he is four years older and currently the heir to the Crown dynasty. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>C mentioned briefly that Salvatore or 'Sally' as she calls him raised her along with her other two siblings.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>C mentioned briefly that Salvatore or 'Sally' as he calls him raised him along with his other two siblings.<</if>> I asked C if having $hisher brother raise $himher brought upon any emotion or thoughts when $heshe thought of him. The patient did not understand what I meant.// ''//Dated April 1993//'' //<<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Patient 27 in everyday life is calm, she is simplistic in her preferences and questions (in the rare occasion when she is curious). Often orderlies have found her sitting on a window sill and staring at the fields outside. She can sit like that without moving for hours.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Patient 27 in everyday life is calm, he is simplistic in his preferences and questions (in the rare occasion when he is curious). Often orderlies have found him sitting on a window sill and staring at the fields outside. He can sit like that without moving for hours.<</if>> C rarely feels happy, sad or any emotion at all. At the very least with any potency. Except for anger. There are flashes of it that I've had chances to see, it usually happens when I ask C about $hisher family. Those 'fits' of rage that I was informed of by reading their medical history have not yet manifested. I asked $himher what made $himher angry and C couldn't reply. I asked $himher what anger meant to $himher and $heshe said...// <hr>\ * [[🜒 “Protection.”]] * [[🜥 “Loss of control.”]] * [[🜒 “Delight.”]] * [[“I don't know.”]] </h3>

<h3> ''Before the main story begins, would you like to do a side quest? Reminder, it is not necessary for the plot of the game to do one. Click on the titles to go to them.'' [[''Side Quest 1: A Certain Hunger'']] //Help a preteen with their peculiar dietary needs.// ''Easy.'' [[''Side Quest 2: Fake Dating Trope 1994'']] //A gay love story.// TW: Homophobia, Transphobia, Sexism. ''Medium.'' [[''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] //A gig in public speaking.// ''Chance.'' ''If you want to go straight into the episode, click the word NEXT.'' [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> ''Sometime after the events we left off at in the previous episode...'' <<if $pathfour>>It was all really happenstance. You were walking home from school and you chanced a glance at a passing window of a house. You saw the face of a kid looking out of it. They looked bored until they sawe you. They waved their arms excitedly and you could see their mouth moving but no words came out. This kept happening every time you passed that house until one day the kid pressed a sheet of paper against the glass that said in big red letters: 'FEED ME.'<<elseif not $pathfour>>After you helped one person, news spread like wildfire and you were getting calls and letters non-stop to the house asking if you could help so-and-so with so-and-so. You had never been more popular or sought after. One of the pleas was from this kid who wrote to you on a sheet of paper with no envelope. In big red letters it said: 'FEED ME.'<</if>> You read a note like this and you're immediate thought would be to call children protective services. But you don't. One, because that doesn't exist in this town, Two, out-of-towners wouldn't be able to find the entrance to it. Three, you and authority figures have a fraught relationship. Where were the adults when you were a neglected kid? You figure you can do a good enough job and if worse comes to worse, your family name can bail you out of trouble. And that's how you find yourself across the street from the kid's house, listening to the dial tone of the handset in the phonebooth. You got the number from the phonebook. The Zhao's live here. From what you've been able to observe it's Mr. Zhao who leaves in the morning to work as the manager at that thrift shop that only sells shirts about Labyrinth, the 1984 David Bowie film. Mrs. Zhao who is a stay-at-home mom who sometimes does yard sales where she sells shirts about Labyrinth, the 1959 Rolf Thiele film. Which she is doing right now. And then there's their homeschooled 13-year-old, Phoenix Zhao. The author of the letter and the one who needs your help. <<if $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Huh, Phoenix asked you to immediately refer to themself as 'they.' It feels so nice.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Huh, Phoenix asked you to immediately refer to themself as 'they.' It feels so nice. <</if>>\ At the fourth ring, the phone is answered.<<set $S41 to true>> [[NEXT->SQ1*]] </h3>

<h3> ''Sometime after the events we left off at in the previous episode...'' <<if $pathfour>>It's odd how things seem to always happen to you. Take this for instance, here you are getting ready to go meet the parents of the person you're dating. It is actually much less romantic than it sounds. You were walking in town on the suggestion of Sally who said 'you need to get out more.' And that is what you were doing when Charley Bright threw an arm over your shoulders, pressed you close and said “hey, honey, I thought you wouldn't come.”<<elseif not $pathfour>>You had been bugged about this for weeks. Calls and messages from one Charley Bright who needed to see you “urgently.” In your defense you were swamped with other people who wanted your help so technically it wasn't active avoidance. When you finally got back the nuisance you were asked how you felt about fake dating.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a girlfriend. His religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that he's gayer than Liberace. You being a girl for hire, his words not yours, were the perfect candidate. His parents are so desperate for straightness that they'll accept a nutjob like you, again his words not yours.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a girlfriend. His religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that he's gayer than Liberace. You being a girl for hire, his words not yours, were the perfect candidate. You should be flattered you pass so well, again his words not yours. 'Passing' is something you hadn't even realized you were doing. When you asked him why you, he said there as something 'girly' about you. And that made you want to smile.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a boyfriend. Her religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that she's gayer than Jodie Foster. You being a boy for hire, her words not yours, were the perfect candidate. Her parents are so desperate for straightness that they'll accept a nutjob like you, again her words not yours.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a boyfriend. Her religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that she's gayer than Jodie Foster. You being a boy for hire, her words not yours, were the perfect candidate. You should be flattered you pass so well, again her words not yours. 'Passing' is something you hadn't even realized you were doing. When you asked him why you, he said there as something 'boyish' about you. And that made you want to smile.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a girlfriend. His religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that he's gayer than Liberace. In spite of the fact that you don't necessarily think your reproductive organs say you're a woman, you are the woman for hire, Charley's words not yours. Then he went on to give you tips on how to look more andogynous even though he himself clearly looks like a boy.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs'>>Turns out Charley Bright needs a boyfriend. Her religious and bigoted parents seem to have caught on or about to catch on that she's gayer than Jodie Foster. In spite of the fact that you don't necessarily think your reproductive organs say you're a man, you are the man for hire, Charley's words not yours. Then she went on to give you tips on how to look more andogynous even though she herself clearly looks like a girl.<</if>> And that's is how you ended up here, standing in front a white, perfectly mowed house with the picket face and a dog playing with a chewtoy on the grass who tried to hump your leg only moments ago. <<set $S42 to true>> You check your watch and sigh. You're supposed to go in with Charley who was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. You can't help but feel like a weirdo standing out here and staring this Stepford wives-esque house. [[NEXT->SQ2]] </h3>

<h3> ''Sometime after the events we left off at in the previous episode...'' <<if $pathfour>>\ You had decided to take a walk, the house was stiffy and you didn't want the help to report to your brother that you had spent all day locked in your room. When you reach a random bench in town you sit down to take out a pebble in your show when you hear crying. You turn to see a young man next to you, looking down at sheets of paper on his lap. Tears cascade down his cheeks. You're not good with crying. It might seem cold but you decide to leave so as not to be bothered with tears but as you get up the bench creeks and the man looks at you. You sigh and sit back down. You feel like a smile might be inappriopriate so you school your face into what you hope looks like sympathy and ask, “what's wrong sir?” <<set $S43 to true>> The man sniffles and takes a gulp before answering, “I can't make this speech right. I need to make this speech right but I don't know.” You look down at the tear-streaked pages, the letters too small and messy to make out. You would understand if this man was twelve and it was a class presentation but he looks well over school age. Maybe college? “It's probably better than you think. Anyway it depends on how easy a marker your professor is, that could be an A“ you comment. The man looks at you with a broken expression as he says, “I don't need this for a stupid grade. I need this to get my daughter back.” And that is how you end up helping a father retrieve his stolen child. [[NEXT->SQ3]] <<elseif not $pathfour>>\ You were looking through your pile of correspondance it seems that every person in town needs help with this or that. You decide to pick at random, with your eyes closed and after a game of 'eenie meenie miney mo' your finger landed on the case of a man who had his daughter stolen. What confused you is why he didn't call the police but ask help from an eighteen-year-old high schooler? You still meet the man early in the morning by a bench in town, he has sheets of paper on his lap and he's crying.You're not good with crying and even though you had promised him you'd help his tears made you want to quietly leave and leave him to his fate, as heartless as that sounded. But you sigh, curse your luck and sit down next to him. You feel like a smile might be inappriopriate so you school your face into what you hope looks like sympathy and say, “I'm here just as I promised.” The man sniffles, and looks at you. “I thought I could do this by myself, I thought I was smart enough but nothing I write sounds right.” You look down at the tear-streaked pages, the letters too small and messy to make out. The letter the man sent did not contain many details, it just said he needed help getting his daughter back. “I don't get it. Why are you writing? What does this have to do with your daughter? you say. The man looks at you with a broken expression as he replies, “because this stupid speech has to be the best thing ever or else I'll never see my little girl again.” And that is how you find out the this isn't the case of a normal kidnapping. [[NEXT->SQ3]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3> “Hello?” a child's voice asks. “Phoenix?” you ask in turn. “Oh!“ they say and you hear some rustling from the other end of the line. “It's you, $name, right?” “Yeah,” you answer and look over your shoulder at Mrs. Zhao negoitating the price of a man trying to get a deal for buying three shirts. “What's my mom doing?” Phoenix asks in a whisper. You see the top of their head, peek out from their window. “Yelling,” you reply, wincing as she uses some colorful and inventive curses to tell the man to take the shit from his ass and eat it. “So the usual“ they say. You nod even though Phoenix can't see you from that far away. “That's a cool watch“ they say and you look down at the watch around your wrist. You look at a pair of eyes staring directly at you. “The details on the hands are awesome“ they add. How the hell can they see it from that far? “How—“ “I need you to get me some blood“ they say quickly. Your confusion mounts even more. You hear Phoenix sigh and see them raise their head. They point to their teeth and that's when you understand. “How?” you ask. “I don't know much about your people's community.” “There's this guy that lives on 58 Cornelius St. You'll have to convince him and then somehow get through my mom“ Phoenix explains. [[NEXT->SQ1-2]] </h3>

<h3> “Is this guy like you or—“ the line clicks. You groan as you slam the phone handset against the holder. You push out of the phonebooth and look down the street, trying to remember where Cornelius Street is. It takes fifteen minutes of walking but you find yourself searching the numbers on the mailboxes on said street. When you get to 58, you find a rundown house that looked to be once blue, the shutters ripped and broken from behind the windows and a feral cat mewing from under the stairs of the porch. You can't help compare it to a crackhouse. Not that you've ever been to one but you feel like if someone smoked crack, this is how they'd keep their house. Bracing yourself you walk up the creaky and decayed front steps, the cat scurries out and runs somewhere to the back of the house. You look for a doorbell and find it come to pieces on the boards. You knock as hard as you can on the splintered door and wait. It takes five minutes of knocking for you to hear footsteps behind the thin door. It swings open and you step back as a big burly man takes up the entire door frame. He's a great deal taller than you, patches of hair grow randomly on his chin and soiled arm pits coat his white wifebeater along with mysterious yellow stains. You breath through your mouth as you smell the rancid scent of onions. “What do you want?” he says in a raspy voice. <hr>\ * [[“I need some stuff.”]] * [[“A kid sent me here. Phoenix.”]] * [[“I need some fucking blood.”]] </h3>

<h3> The man's expression of unfriendliness doesn't change. Better yet, his eyes seem to harden. “What stuff?” You shrug, “just stuff. Things. Of the liquid variety that you sell.” You want to curse yourself for how unsure your voice sounds. He takes a step towards you and you resist the urge to scramble back like a coward. “Do you sell stuff or not? I got info that you did“ you say, trying to make yourself sound annoyed. “Who told you this kid?” the man asks and steps out from the interior of his house, the porch groans under his heavy steps. You slightly shuffle back. “Are you a rat?” he says and comes up closer. You step down onto the stairs. The powerful odor of his body makes your eyes teary, you blink the hot itchy pain away. “No! I was told by some kid that you can sell me blood, that's why I'm here“ you try to explain as you take another step down. The man towers over you. The man breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as he says “who put you up to this? Ringwald? That nosey fucker!“ You try to towards the stairs when the man grasps your arm and pulls you up the steps. You arm pressed against his stomach. Your hand trapped between both your bodies. “I don't work for anyone!“ you yell, you try to pry his fingers from your arm and he grips you tighter. Your nerves scream and you pull back. “THAT FUCKER THINKS HE CAN FOOL ME!“ he screams in your face. Enraged he begins lifting you up from the ground. “I'LL SHOW THAT FUCKER WHAT HAPPENS TO SNITCHES!“ You have to think quick or this man might kill you. <hr>\ * [[Punch him in the face.]] * [[Kick him in the groan.]] * [[Scream for help.]] </h3>

<h3> The man's face registers no change. It's as if you said that rain is wet. “Yeah I know them. What do they want?” You almost sigh in relief, at least he's not being difficult. “They said they want some blood and for some reason they need me to get it“ you explain. The man just stares. Once again as if you said something that deserves no commentary. “How much do they need now?” he asks. Shit. You should've called them back and asked. Shit, they should've told you. You shake your head and respond “I don't know.” “What type do they want?” he asks. You shake your head again and say “I don't know.” “In a bloodbag or in a bottle?” he asks. You repeat the same response as before. The man doesn't look like he's irritated but somehow you feel like such novice even though blood dealing was never an area you though to be an expert in. “Alright kid. Tell you what, you answer me this and I'll just prepare the shit in whatever fucking way I think they'll like it“ the man proposes. You blink and say “uh, ok.” “In Apuleius' //The Golden Ass// what does Lucius have to eat to turn back into a human?” Your eyesbrows knit together. How the hell does this correlate to anything? Enter the answer: //One word. A flower. Plural. Lowercase.// <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password">> </h3>

<h3> The man's eyebrows rise slightly and he says, “what did you just say?” Not backing down you square your shoulders and repeat “I. Need. Some. Fucking. Blood.” The man's expression changes, his mouth opening a little and his eyes widen. He looks up and down as if seeing you for the first time. “And who the fuck are you to talk to Randy McClintock like that?” You give him an impassive look and answer, “I'm $name Crown. That's who I am and I need some fucking blood so be a good boy and get it for me because unlike my client I'm not getting older standing here.” The man — Randy — walks backwards into his house, a bemused look aimed at you the whole while. You mentally pat yourself on the back and wait with your hands clasped in front of you. It takes so long for him to come back that you thought he had decided to not give you shit and leave you like an idiot on his porch when you hear his heavy footsteps against the floor. He walks back into view with a plastic white bag, dangling from his hand. He holds it out to you and you're surprised by how heavy it, your arm slamming down from gravity. “How much do I owe you?” you ask, twisting the handle of the bag around your wrist. The man places a hand on the door and starts closing it. “Nothin' this time. For the kid. You've got some balls. Respectful, but you if you ever talk to me like that again I'll break your arm,“ he answers as the door slams shut in your face. With the blood in your possession you walk back the Zhao residence. [[NEXT->SQ1-3]] </h3>

<h3> You tuck your thumb behind your curled fingers as you've were taught by watching Percy at it some many times and slam your fist into his ghastly face. You hear a loud crack, a pain reveberates throughout your hand and your butt slams against the wooden floorboards of the porch. The man stumbles back, clutching his nose. Drops of blood run from in between his fingers and you scramble up. His eyes squint angrily at you and he swipes a bloody hand towards you put you jump back and practically slide down the stairs. Nearly tripping as you run, you hear “DUMB RAT YOU EVER COME BACK HERE AND IT'LL KILL YOU!“ You run down the street, turn swiftly at the corner and keep running until your stomach lurches. You cradle your hand against your chest and bite back a curse as you feel your knuckles. Having failed, you trudge home. Phoenix sends you more letters, multiple times a day but you never answer back. Not knowing how to help them. After breaking into the hospital they probably got your picture taped to the entrance so you no blood bags from there. Oddly enough, you do get more calls from people needing help. It looks like even if you fail, these people are desperate for any chance of a second pair of hands to help. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> You pull your leg back and slam it straight home, your shoe landing perfectly where you wanted it. You hear an 'humph' sound and feel your bottom connect painfully with against the wooden floorboards of the porch. The man stumbles back, cupping his genitals. Tears spring from his squeezed eyes. You scramble up as the man falls to his knees, his face crumpled and red. You turn around and run down the steps. Nearly tripping as you run, you hear “DUMB RAT YOU EVER COME BACK HERE I'LL CUT OUT YOUR FUCKING EYES!“ You run down the street, turn swiftly at the corner and keep running until your stomach lurches. You take in deep breaths, gulping for air as your lungs seem to not hold enough. Having failed, you trudge home. Phoenix sends you more letters, multiple times a day but you never answer back. Not knowing how to help them. After breaking into the hospital they probably got your picture taped to the entrance so you no blood bags from there. Oddly enough, you do get more calls from people needing help. It looks like even if you fail, these people are desperate for any chance of a second pair of hands to help. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> A strong and loud cry leaves your mouth, your throat aching with how beastly and wild it sounds. The man looks from you to his surroundings. “Shut up!“ he says furiously. You scream your head off and you hear a voice from somewhere behind you, your screams making their words indecipherable. The man looks frantically behind you and then looks back into his house. He drops you painfully on the floorboards of the porch and goes inside. Slamming the door shut. You hear a lock click. You stop screaming, your throat immediately burning. You turn to look behind you and an old lady in a floral nightgown is raising her cane. You scramble up and quickly go down the steps. You speedwalk down the street and turn the corner. Having failed, you trudge home. Phoenix sends you more letters, multiple times a day but you never answer back. Not knowing how to help them. After breaking into the hospital they probably got your picture taped to the entrance so you no blood bags from there. Oddly enough, you do get more calls from people needing help. It looks like even if you fail, these people are desperate for any chance of a second pair of hands to help. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is 'roses'>>[[Correct!->Correct]]\<<elseif $Password is not 'roses'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3> The man cracks a smile and nods. “Teens these days don't know real literature, at least some of you read more then goth poetry.” With that statement he goes inside. From what you remember of the Golden Ass it's full of sex and debauchery, but maybe that is what makes great literature. It takes so long for him to come back that you thought he had decided to not give you shit and leave you like an idiot on his porch when you hear his heavy footsteps against the floor. He walks back into view with a plastic white bag, dangling from his hand. He holds it out to you and you're surprised by how heavy it, you nearly drop it. “How much do I owe you?” you ask, twisting the handle of the bag around your wrist. The man places a hand on the door and starts closing it. “Nothin' this time. I like you. You're smart. But next time imma charge you no matter how many books you've read“ he answers as the door closes in front of you. With the blood in your possession you walk back the Zhao residence. [[NEXT->SQ1-3]] </h3>

<h3> When you make it back to the Zhao residence, the crowd at the yard sale has lessened. Most people milling about are around Mrs. Zhao's age who is sitting by a folding chair, arms crossed with a large sun hat on. You go back to the phonebooth and dial the home phone again. It only rings once before it's picked up. “$name? Did you get the stuff?” Phoenix whispers urgently in your ear. You turn towards the window and hold up the plastic bag. Phoenix's face pops up from beneath the windowsill and they smile. They give you a thumbs up. “Now what?” you ask, casting a glance towards Phoenix's imposing mother. You swear she blinks about once every minute. “Now... you have to come inside.” You shoot an incredulous look at Phoenix. “Your mom literally looks like she can backhand me so hard my neck snaps, how the heck am I supposed to get inside? Why can't I just slip it in through the window?” Phoenix huffs, the line crackling. “Beeecccaauuusseeee the window is painted shut. If it weren't I would've gone out myself, that's why I needed you. Also daylight,” they explain. You curse and hang up the phone. You leave the booth and walk across the road. You don't even have time to come up with a plausible lie before you walk across the lawn and come up in front of Mrs. Zhao. She doesn't look up, her wide-brimmed hat covering her eyes and thus her face. The only thing you can see is her mouth. “What do you want?” she says, a slight accent colouring the ends of her words. [[NEXT->SQ1-4]] </h3>

<h3> “Hi, Mrs. Zhao,“ you say, trying to modulate your voice into something friendly and completely innocent. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>She doesn't move. “You crazy girl. The one who killed her sister?” she asks directly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>She doesn't move. “You crazy boy. The one who killed his sister?” she asks directly.<</if>> Wow. She doesn't mince words does she? You roll your lips and respond diplomatically, “yes, I'm $name Crown. Nice to see you remember me Mrs. Zhao.” She doesn't reply to that. You change the weight to your other foot, your knee jutting out. You can't Phoenix's window from here. You arm aches from the heaviness of the bag and you know if you just try to walk past here, Mrs. Zhao will attack you. You look at the shirts on the table to your right. You could work with something there. Or you could make up a lie about her husband. Or, more extremely you could call the fire department. “What do you want?” Mrs. Zhao asks again. <hr>\ * [[You ask for more shirts.]] * [[You tell a lie about her husband.]] * [[You call about a fire.]] </h3>

<h3> “So are these all the shirts you have?” you motion to the Labyrinth shirts folded on the tables and hung up on hangers. Mrs. Zhao moves her slightly, in the direction of the tables and says “no. I have much more inside. In storage. I keep them good condition. I wash them. I iron them. I don't sell cheap smelly things.” You smile fakely, “of course. I don't doubt it for a second. I actually would like to see all of them.” Mrs. Zhao finally looks up, her eyes unblinking and penetrating. “You buy them?” Your mouth opens a tad in confusion. Not exactly what you had in mind. “You buy them or no?” “I mean I guess...” your voice trails off and she quickly gets up. Her head barely reaching your shoulders. She goes up the steps and opens the screen door. “You stay there. I bring shirts,” she instructs in a commanding tone. You look behind you to see if anyone's paying attention. You wait a minute before going up the steps and clicking on the little plunger of a door knob. Quietly you open the door, wincing as it creaks. You open it until you're sure you can squeeze through and do. You slowly close the door behind you. [[NEXT->SQ1-5]] </h3>

<h3> “You're husband works at the thrift store right?” you ask, trying to sound uncertain but hopeful, something harder than it sounds. Mrs. Zhao barely nods once, but you catch it. You go on to say “well, I don't know if this is true or not but I heard that someone tried to rob it just half an hour ago.” Mrs. Zhao looks up at that, her dak brown eyes boring into yours. “Who?” “I don't know, I heard from Tina the Taxidermist who heard it from Asia the fisher“ you answer. “Did they take anything?” she asks. You shake your head “I'm not sure. There's not really anything much to take, only shirts.” Once those words leave your lips you know you've made a mistake. Mrs. Zhao stands abruptly. You were standing so close that you back up unless you want her face to collide with your chest. Mrs. Zhao has her hands on her hips. “What you say?” she asks, her tone betraying anger. You give her a puzzled look and say “about your husband? I think he's fine, I'm not sure. Maybe you should go check up on him.” “No! What did you say about the shirts?” she snarls. The pitch of her voice makes the other customers stop their browsing and look at the two of you. “I didn't mean to suggest—“ you begin but before you try and explain yourself Mrs. Zhao turns around and goes inside the house. Before you know it she's outside again. Running down the stairs with a rifle in her hands. [[NEXT->SQ1-5*]] </h3>

<h3> “You know what? Nevermind. I just came over to say 'hi'“ you reply and walk away. You walk across the street and look back at Mrs. Zhao. She's staring at the customers. You slip into the phonebooth and dial the police department. It rings six times before a nasally voice answers. “Hello? What's your emergency?” “Yeah, hi, I think someone's kitchen is on fire. I can see flames from the window“ you reply in a panicked voice. The high-pitched tone of your voice making you cringe. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“What's the address Miss?” the woman asks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“What's the address Mister?” the woman asks.<</if>> Once you give it to her, she tells you to calm down, remain on the line that the firemen will be there in any second. You hang up anyway and leave the booth. Deciding to walk across the road, standing at a few feet away from the house. Mrs. Zhao rings out a customer who buys five identical shirts. It doesn't feel long before you hear the sirens of the firetrucks. Even quicker, you look over your shoulder and see the moving lights. The firetruck quickly speeds down the street, you take a step away from the edge of the sidewalk as it barrels past. The firetruck stops on the lawn and four people in classic firemen uniform burst out from the truck or jump from dangling on the sides. “What is going on?!“ you hear Mrs. Zhao yell as the firemen rush into the house. Mrs. Zhao tries to run after them but one firemen grabs her from behind. “What you doing?!“ she screeches. “Stay back ma'am!“ a woman's voice says, muffled from the helmet. [[NEXT->SQ1-5**]] </h3>

<h3>The inside is like you would imagine a home lived in by two people seemingly obssessed with two particular movies. On the walls instead of familial picture frames you see mounted special edition shirts of either of the two films in glass cases. The hallway is full of light from open doors of rooms that have windows, the floor is painted baby blue and clean. The fake flowers in their plastic vases are perfectly colour-coded and the air smells of clean sheets. You once read that aerosols are destroying the ozone layer. From the window in which Phoenix kept peeking out from, you know she's on this floor, somewhere towards the back of the house. You hear things being moved downstairs, probably boxes in the basement. Just as you're about to whisper out Phoenix's name you hear a flurry of quick steps pounding on the stairs below you. Thinking fast you... <hr>\ * [[Open a random door to your left.]] * [[Climb up the stairs.]] * [[Go back outside.]] </h3>

<h3> Before you can react she aims and shoots you square in the chest. You feel yourself plummet to the ground, a warm thickness spreading along your chest. You hear commotion, voices that come to you from long distances. The edges of your vision morphing into a blurry mess that spreads throughout your eyes. The gray sky above you looks exceptionally bright. You feel the pounding of footsteps around you but you don't see anyone. Your head swims but you think of nothing. Where are the clips from your life? The happy moments? The sad ones? It's just numbness. Death doesn't feel too bad. Even dying by such violent means. Maybe you should've been quicker. Thought faster. Oh well. That matters no more. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 1: A Certain Hunger'']] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] </h3>

<h3> You hear a screech from inside the house and that's when you realize what you forgot to think through. Three firemen bring out a struggling child, their pale arms wildly moving around as to escape. A blood-curdling cry emits from their colourless mouth when you hear small little pops. The child breaks free from the arms holding them as their skin bubbles, smoke rising from all exposed areas to the pale daylight. Mrs. Zhao wails against the firemen pinning her arms back, she strains forward to the place on the grass where her child has fallen to their knees. Arms over their headas their skin begins to burst like boils, red hot steaming blood splatters like pimples against the firemen and Mrs. Zhao's legs. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Your legs move of their own volition and you sprint to the lawn, you stop short in front of Phoenix as blood splats all over your face and part of your chest. You frantically look around for anything, their screams threatening to burst your ear drums. <hr>\ * [[Grab a pile of shirts.]] * [[Throw yourself over them.]] </h3>

<h3>You slip into a dark room and quickly shut the door in front of you. The handle clicks against its place as the footsteps sound in front of it. They stop. The house creaks but the floorboards outside the door don't. You try to contain your breathing, making sure the plastic bag doesn't rustle. You stand as still as a statue as you wait to hear anything. Light comes in to the room you're in from beneath the door. You can see a tiny bit, the walls on either side of you are close, very close, it's a small space. You see a long stick leaning by the wall and gingerly reach out to touch it. The floorboard creaks. It's a broom handle. You must be in a closet. With bated breath you almost pray as you hope she doesn't come in here. You hear the door handle to the closet rattle and twist. Fuck. You move back into the closet, looking to the broom, thinking that maybe you could grab it and use it. The floorboards creek and no sooner does the handle twist that the door is pulled open and light floods the closet. You move your hand over your eyes and peek out from between your fingers. “What you doing?” Phoenix stands in the hallway, they have a hand on the knob and an impatient look on their face. “What am I doing? Hiding!“ you whisper, dropping your hand and squinting from the light. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Phoenix rolls their eyes and grabs your hand, leading you out from the closet and down the hall. They push you into a room and softly close the door behind them. You hear a pair of footsteps walking past the door. [[NEXT->SQ1-6]] </h3>

<h3> You hurriedly go up the steps and crouch behind the thick white beams. Just at that moment you see Mrs. Zhao come to the spot where you were and look around. She looks behind her and around her, your heart picks up as her eyes glide past the beams. Thankfully she doesn't seem to see you. She looks in front of her, hoists the big cardboard box she's holding and tries to open the door. She stretches her fingers to the knob and tries to twist it but it won't move all the way. “Darling!“ she calls. A moment later you hear a door open down the hall. Phoenix comes into view and twists the knob for their mother. Mrs. Zhao smiles sweetly at them, “thank you.” Once she steps out of the house, Phoenix stands by the door and watches through the glass. They stand there for a minute, their face almost sad. They sigh and turn around. You rise and go down the steps. You see their retreating figure and follow behind them. As you catch up to them they turn around so abruptly that you don't have time to be startled before they slap you. Your head snaps to the side, a burning sensation making your eyes prickle. You lay a hand against your cheek and look at them perturbed.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> They look shocked and are about to say something when they look down at the bag dangling from your wrist and quickly grab your hand, leading you into a room and shutting the door behind them. The room itself is fairly bright, red curtains pulled to the sides, letting the gray rays of sunlight stream in. The furniture of the room is all white, it's nearly entirely neat except the bits of crumbs in the fluffy blue carpet, the red sheets hapazardly strewn on the bed and the clothes thrown on the chair by the desk. The wall is entirely covered in band posters. Most of them you've heard of. Phoenix sits on their bed and pats the spot next to them. You sit down, your arm brushing theirs. You untwist the bag from your wrist, you don't miss the excitement in their eyes as you bring the bag to your lap. [[NEXT->SQ1-6*]] </h3>

<h3> Not seeing anyway out of this where you could get to Phoenix without being caught, you reluctantly back away and slip past the door. Mrs. Zhao finds you pacing in front of the house, she somehow manages to carry a huge cardboard box in her thin arms. You meet her and hold out your arms. “It's fine I don't need your help“ she says and pushes past you. She sets the box down with a loud thump. “Come“ she waves you over. You pretend to be interested as she picks out countless shirts of the same thing over and over again. You nod and smile when she points out a 'special' feature in each shirt that doesn't exist. “How you pay?” she asks as she folds the shirts back into the box. She begins gathering all the other shirts on the tables and from the hands of customers who glare at you for paying it all. “Uh, send the bill to my brother, he'll pay right away“ you say as you watch the mountain of shirts you'll be taking home. “No you give bill to your brother, bring me money tonight“ she says as she takes begins doing accounts in a small notepad. She finishes quickly and hands you the amount. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. Sally is going to be at best exasperated. You think of the look that will be on his face when you call him to pick you up with all the shirts. And it doesn't disappoint. He parks against the sidewalk and gapes at the small hill of shirts you have to bring home. “Money tonight, sir“ Mrs. Zhao says from her lawn chair. Sally gives you a 'we'll-talk-at-home' look as you help him load the car. You practically drowning in shirts as your brother pulls away from the house. You strain to see the window Phoenix was at but the shirts cover your window. Phoenix sends you more letters, multiple times a day but you never answer back. Not knowing how to help them. Oddly enough, you do get more calls from people needing help. It looks like even if you fail, these people are desperate for any chance of a second pair of hands to help. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> You run to the tables and within your arms heave as many shirts as you can. Your arms around the bulge at your belly making it seem like a mock pregnancy of polyester shabbily designed shirts of a movie you don't know if it even exists. You fingers barely meet to complete your hold as you stumble back to the commotion. Phoenix is still writhing on the ground, more steaming flesh than person. You just throw black shirts over their boiling body. You crounch down and adjust the shirts, making sure no skin is peeking out. Mrs. Zhao breaks free of the female firemen's grip and crouches down opposite you, covering up their child's other side. You work quickly as the firemen stand around you not knowing what to do. It is known that firemen don't know much about vampires. Once you and Mrs. Zhao are done, Phoenix's body is a stiff scarecrow-like thing of black fabric. But they have stopped writhing, the smell of cooked skin is being taken with the outside air. “Oh, thank you“ Mrs. Zhao says, you look up, across from you to see her with watery eyes. You stand up and back up as Mrs. Zhao lays over her child, kissing the back of their head. A pang of something horrid stabs your chest, ugly. You look away. Later on, after the firemen make sure there's no small fire in the house and check the wiring and anything such thing to be certain there's nothing that could cause a potential fire, they — under the booming voice of Mrs. Zhao — pick Phoenix up and cautiously carry them back inside. Mrs. Zhao doesn't immediately go in with them. She regards you. You hope she somehow doesn't suspect you did this. “You save my Phoenix's life. You a hero“ she goes to a small purse on the grass where her lawn chair is. She takes something out and when she comes closer you see a small figurine on it, a dragon but with a turtle shell on its back. She takes your hand, places it palm up and gently lays the creature on it. “Lóngguī“ she says. You touch it gently with your finger, “he is strong, powerful, resilient and very brave.” <hr>\ * [[“I can't take this.”]] * [[“Why?”]] </h3>

<h3> A complete insane thing to do. You were better off using some of the shirts, but whatever. Your body lays over Phoenix. You try not to vomit as you feel throbbing boils of blood against your skin. You can't completely cover them like this, for that you would have to entirely lay on them and even though this is a dire situation it still doesn't mean you're going to on an underage kid. You already have enough accusations to add that one. The upper part of Phoenix's body stops sizzling, the skin still incredibly damaged and hot to the touch. “You“ you lift your head and look at a firemen “your coat, put it on their legs.” And he listens to you, throwing his heavy yellowish coat over the child's lower half. You bring your mouth to Phoenix's air and whisper “it's ok, everything's ok now. How are you doing?” Phoenix groans. At least they can make a sound, that means they aren't dead. You shrug off the thin jacket you're wearing and quickly cover their upper half, their skin momentarily hissing as the sun catches it again. Eventually you with the firemen all slowly and charily lift Phoenix's body off the ground. You being much weaker barely help in the lifting and leave it up to the firemen. Mrs. Zhao comes up next to you. “You burned“ she says. You look down at the top of your chest and your arms. Skin is slowly peeling off, you touch patches of newly exposed flesh and bite back a hiss. Your face is probably like that too. “Wait“ she says and goes inside. The lawn is completely deserted now, the only people on the street are the neighbors watching from their lawns and their windows. Nosy fucks. Mrs. Zhao comes out with an ointment, telling you over and over again how much to apply and when to apply it. After you repeated over and over again that you understand, she seems satisfied and allows you to apply to yourself. “You want shirt?” she asks. You add a dollop of white cream to your forearm and instantly feel the cooling agents work. You look at the black shirts on the table. “Free of charge“ she adds. <hr>\ * [[“Sure.”]] * [[“I'll come back for them another day.”]] ==* “These shirts are ugly as fuck.”== </h3>

<h3>“Darling, you okay?” Mrs. Zhao asks from behind the door. “Yeah mom, I'm fine,“ they answer. You two wait, not moving an inch until you hear the footsteps moving away. “Remember to drink lunch“ Mrs. Zhao yells from further away. The glass door opens with a creak and seconds later slams closed. The room itself is fairly bright, red curtains pulled to the sides, letting the gray rays of sunlight stream in. The furniture of the room is all white, it's nearly entirely neat except the bits of crumbs in the fluffy blue carpet, the red sheets hapazardly strewn on the bed and the clothes thrown on the chair by the desk. The wall is entirely covered in band posters. Most of them you've heard of. Phoenix sits on their bed and pats the spot next to them. You sit down, your arm brushing theirs. You untwist the bag from your wrist, you don't miss the excitement in their eyes as you bring the bag to your lap. You take out small little plastic water bottles, heavy with the thick viscous dark blood. Impatient, Phoenix grabs it from your hand, uncaps it, shoves it in their mouth and throws their head again. You watch as they swallow, their hyoid bone pressing against the skin of their throat. The blood is slow to go down and you take the time to examine a bottle. You move it back and forth, watching how the blood moves. It's almost black, if it wasn't for the light coming in from the window you wouldn't see the red. The bottle in Phoenix's hand starts crackling as it empties. They move their head back and squeeze it in between their hands. They wipe their mouth with the back of their hand, brilliant vibrant eyes like the shinest obsidian, watching you. “What?” <hr>\ * [[“Doesn't the light bother you?”]] * [[“How does it taste like?”]] * [[“So, what does your mom feed you?”]] * [[“How did you get like this?”]] <<if $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[“How did you know that you weren't a guy or a girl?”]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[“How did you know that you weren't a guy or a girl?”]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You take out small little plastic water bottles, heavy with the thick viscous dark blood. Impatient, Phoenix grabs it from your hand, uncaps it, shoves it in their mouth and throws their head again. You rub your stinging cheek, the skin feels warm and rough. You watch as they swallow, their hyoid bone pressing against the skin of their throat. The blood is slow to go down and you take the time to examine a bottle. You move it back and forth, watching how the blood moves. It's almost black, if it wasn't for the light coming in from the window you wouldn't see the red. The bottle in Phoenix's hand starts crackling as it empties. They move their head back and squeeze it in between their hands. They wipe their mouth with the back of their hand, brilliant vibrant eyes like the shinest obsidian, watching you. “I'm sorry about the slap. Reflexes,“ they say and shrug. You rub your cheek one more time and drop it your hand. Your eyes go from the crumpled bottle to their teeth. “What?” <hr>\ * [[“Doesn't the light bother you?”]] * [[“How does it taste like?”]] * [[“So, what does your mom feed you?”]] * [[“How did you get like this?”]] <<if $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[“How did you know that you weren't a guy or a girl?”]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[“How did you know that you weren't a guy or a girl?”]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3> “Seriously, it's really not for me,” you say, holding it out to her. Mrs. Zhao steps back and shakes her head, “nonsense, of course you can. You saved my child when all the other adults were standing around like idiots. You're a hero like the Lóngguī.” You sigh, you head moving from left to right as you try to figure out a way for her to understand. All her word are mistakes. “I'm not a hero, far from it. I'm just—“ you stop and lick your lips, looking hard at the dragon-tortoise “I'm something else entirely.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Mrs. Zhao takes a step forward and curls your fingers closed over the creature. “Heroes don't like to think they're heroes Misses Crown, that's why they're heroes.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Mrs. Zhao takes a step forward and curls your fingers closed over the creature. “Heroes don't like to think they're heroes Mister Crown, that's why they're heroes.”<</if>> You wonder if she would say the same thing if she knew you were the one who almost killed their child. //Child-killer.// But by the resolute look on her face, you know she won't accept it back so you put it in your pocket and simply say “thanks.” You feel her eyes on you as you leave. You don't know what she sees but it's a lie. Going home, successfully failing your task you're surprised when the maid tells you that you've gotten missed calls from people wanting your help. You read one of the messages written down: //I heard how you saved that little kid and I was wondering if you could help me in...// It looks like you really are open for business. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> Mrs. Zhao looks at you confused. “Why? You saved my Phoenix's life. Why else?” You shake your head, “no I didn't. I just did what anyone else could've done. I really do not deserve this.” You hold out the creature to Mrs. Zhao but she steps back with her arms crossed. “Fine“ you say and place it on a nearby table. You mimic her stance but not her expression that looks annoyed. “Take it“ she commands. You shake your head and begin walking backwards, away from here and away from all this. “Trust me when I tell you I don't deserve anything from you. Don't waste anything on me“ you say and turn on your feet. You don't look back and you don't go back to check on Phoenix, you only hope their wounds will heal. Another sin to put on your shoulders, you almost killed a child. //Child-killer.// You feel her eyes on you as you leave. You don't know what she sees but it's a lie. Going home, successfully failing your task you're surprised when the maid tells you that you've gotten missed calls from people wanting your help. You read one of the messages written down: //I heard how you saved that little kid and I was wondering if you could help me in...// You wonder how many more chances will the universe give you to accidentally almost kill people before you one day do. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> You ask for an extra-large to be able to sleep in because god knows you aren't going to wear one of those shirts in public in daylight. Looking delighted, Mrs. Zhao comes back with a small plastic bag from Arnie's grocery and hands you it. “You could wear it now to protect your skin from the sun“ Mrs. Zhao suggests. You try to think of a good lie but she immediately reaches into the bag, pulls out the shirt and brings out over your head. She steps back with her hands pressed together as if in prayer. “Oh, absolutely nice“ she says with a smile. You internally groan but externally shoot her a quick smile. You wave awkwardly at her and start walking away. “Thank you for saving my darling's life“ you hear her yell from behind you. You yell back an absentminded and uncommitted 'uh huh.' To say you get giggles from people who see you wear that shirt through town is an understatement. If you had the capacity to blush you would. It seems like it takes an eternity but finally make it home. As you walk in you hear the telephone ring and go to pick it up. “Crown Manor“ you say into the handset. “Is this $name Crown?” a woman's voice says from the other end. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Yes, this is her speaking.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Yes, this is him speaking.”<</if>> “Oh thank God! I need your help“ the woman says. Turns out news flies fast and people heard of your 'heroic' action with Phoenix Zhao, also apparently Mrs. Zhao won't shut up about it. You receive calls like this for the rest of the day. Somehow, against reason you find you've become an entrepeneur. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> Mrs. Zhao gives you a suspicious look and you raise your hands in surrender. “I promise when I find the time, I'll come back and get one. Of course you never know with a high school student, we are busy it might not be until the new year“ you lie with a strained smile. Mrs. Zhao eyes squint and all she responds is “humph. Kids don't appreciate real cinema or real fashion nowadays. This was what all the kids were wearing in Beijing in 1985!“ You highly doubt that. “Yeah I bet“ you reply and back away until your feet reach pavement. Fortunately she lets you go and you aren't subjected to any laughs as you walk through town apart from the usual. You make good time and arrive home by mid-afternoon. As you walk in you hear the telephone ring and go to pick it up. “Crown Manor“ you say into the handset. “Is this $name Crown?” a woman's voice says from the other end. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“If it's the police I don't know her, if it's not than yes.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“If it's the police I don't know him, if it's not than yes.”<</if>> “Oh thank God! I need your help“ the woman says. Turns out news flies fast and people heard of your 'heroic' action with Phoenix Zhao, also apparently Mrs. Zhao won't shut up about it. You receive calls like this for the rest of the day. Somehow, against reason you find you've become an entrepeneur. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3> They raise their hand and move it about the gray light. It takes in the day but it doesn't burn nor does it seem to absorb light like human skin does. If anything her hand looks more dull. “If it's sunny I wouldn't be able to sit in here with the curtains open. But with the usual weather in this town I can. I can't go outside though, I would still burn,” they reply. “Guess I don't know much about vampires“ you say. Phoenix makes an affirmative sound. “Everyone gets it from The Vampire Chronicles or Dracula. They should try talking to real vampires instead of making up stupid stories.” They look out their window for a second, a look of wistfulness on their face. <hr>\ * [[“How does it taste like?”]] * [[“How did you get like this?”]] </h3>

<h3> They smack their lips and suck in their cheek. They fully chug another bottle before answering you. “It tastes like... blood“ they swash the remaining blood along their gums. “Doesn't come in different flavours based on species?” you ask, the metallic smell making you wrinkle your nose. They shake their head, “nah. The intensity of the flavour does vary, sometimes it tastes too watery or too strong like liquor. But it's still the same taste of pennies.” “Not every animal has red blood. Spiders, lobsters and snails have blue blood due to the presence of the protein haemocyanin which contains copper. Have you ever tried those, maybe it would taste different maybe like savoury with notes of copper?” you suggest. Phoenix quirks their eyebrow at you, “you're pretty strange, aren't you?” You shrug. You wonder how much liquor someone as young as Phoenix could've tried. From their parents' ages it's is obvious they haven't been this way for long. “It kind of works like black coffee, at first it tastes gross but then you get used to it and then you prefer it over other things. In my case you don't have a choice for anything else but this“ they say and throw a crumpled bottle to the floor. <hr>\ * [[“How did you get like this?”]] * [[You're done talking.]] </h3>

<h3> Phoenix moves their tongue along their teeth, savouring perhaps. “Animal blood“ they answer. They reach out a hand and you give them another bottle. They uncap it and watch the blood slosh. “It's fine, rats are ok but bear is delicious“ they say and take a sip. “Of course it's like feeding your kid only candy, it's not a balanced meal is it?” By the way Phoenix got your attention you thought they were being starved. Turns out they just want some variety in the taste of their blood. “Does human blood make you stronger?” you ask. Phoenix shakes their head as they take another sip, “not at all. That's complete bee-es. All blood gives us the same power.” <hr>\ * [[“Doesn't the light bother you?”]] * [[“How does it taste like?”]] * [[“How did you get like this?”]] </h3>

<h3> They take the bag of mini-bottles from your lap and stand up. They go to their closet and open it to reveal a mini-fridge under piles of clothing.<<set $bloodh to true>> “I was working at the pizzeria and one of the vamps in town came in. We can digest human food it just taste like cardboard,” they reply, crouching down to fill the fridge. “Anyway this dude ordered a pizza, I brought it to him and I guess the guy hadn't eaten for a few days because he didn't wait until I let go of the plate to bite into the pizza and one of his fangs grazed me,” Phoenix continues. They fill the fridge, leave the bag on the floor, shut the mini-fridge and close the closet. They sit on the desk chair full of clothes and say, “happened last year. Mom was pissed. She wanted to see me grow up. I'm pissed too, I don't wanna be a kid forever.” For some reason that final part stays stuck in your head. Maybe you relate. Phoenix checks the clock on their desk and turns back to you with a smile. “Yo, you gotta go now. I'll distract mom,” they promise. You get up but Phoenix quickly does too, “wait.” They grab a water bottle on the floor and before you can ask what they're doing they open their mouth and bite down into their palm. They pull their fangs away and tip the small wounds into the open lid. They flex their palm to squeeze out the blood. Once the bottle is nearly filled they wipe their wound on their jeans and close the bottle. They give it to you and you raise an eyebrow. “What will this do to me?” They wink and say, “It'll give you a good time.” [[⏏ NEXT]] </h3>

<h3> They take the bag of mini-bottles from your lap and stand up. They go to their closet and open it to reveal a mini-fridge under piles of clothing. They fill the fridge, leave the bag on the floor, shut the mini-fridge and close the closet. Phoenix checks the clock on their desk and turns back to you with a smile. “Yo, you gotta go now. I'll distract mom“ they promise. You get up but Phoenix quickly does too “wait.” They grab a water bottle on the floor and before you can ask what they're doing they open their mouth and bite down into their palm. They pull their fangs away and tip the small wounds into the open lid. They flex their palm to squeeze out the blood. Once the bottle is nearly filled they wipe their wound on their jeans and close the bottle. They give it to you and you raise an eyebrow. “What will this do to me?” They wink and say “I'll give you a good time.” [[⏏ NEXT]] </h3>

<h3> Phoenix makes sure to peek their head out first before pushing you out and telling you to go and hide by the banisters of the stairs. Once there, they begin screaming their head off. No sooner that that, Mrs. Zhao sprints into the house and into their room. You run down the stairs and slip behind the closing glass door. Vampire blood bottle in hand you quickly move away from their house. Speed-walking you arrive at home a bit over an hour later. Tucking the bottle into your back pocket you get news from the maid that you've received some calls. You look down at the written messages. The first is from Phoenix: //Thank you so much! I swear I'll make them last! Thank you thank you thank you! You're so awesome! I called my friends about you if you don't mind, a lot of people in this town need help too. Thanks!// And sure enough there's messages from a lot of people with a lot of different problems. Somehow you've become the town hero. A prickly word that makes you feel like laughing. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more exposed than you're used to. Charley told you he needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ this year are apparently short denim shorts and crop tops with chokers. You shiver as yout mid-riff is exposed to the outside air.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more exposed than you're used to. Charley told you he needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ this year are apparently short denim shorts and crop tops with chokers. You shiver as yout mid-riff is exposed to the outside air. In spite of how exposed you are, these are the prettiest clothes you've ever worn. All your 'boy' clothes just feel wrong on you.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more colourful than you're used to. Charley told you she needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ for overt religious Anglo-saxons this year are apparently denim pants and some eye-catching cardigan sweaters that an uncle would wear.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more colourful than you're used to. Charley told you she needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ for overt religious Anglo-saxons this year are apparently denim pants and some eye-catching cardigan sweaters that an uncle would wear. Despite, not being in something you usually wear, you like how comfortable you feel. Your regular 'girl' clothes always felt too suffocating and scratchy.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more exposed than you're used to. Charley told you he needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ this year are apparently short denim shorts and crop tops with chokers. You shiver as yout mid-riff is exposed to the outside air.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You tug on your clothes. You feel far more colourful than you're used to. Charley told you she needed you to dress “hot.” You had no idea what that meant. So you researched. What's “hot“ for overt religious Anglo-saxons this year are apparently denim pants and some eye-catching cardigan sweaters that an uncle would wear.<</if>> Charley hadn't told you much about what this would entail nor what was the urgency. Just cryptic allusions to “this is something big.” You $habit as you wait. You move around on the sidewalk trying not to let your impatience grow. What the hell is the point of so much nagging and claims that seem as serious as life or death if that asshole doesn't even show up on time? Just as the dog perks its ears up you see Charley walking down the street, almost skipping of happiness with a beaming smile as if a musical number is about to go off any second. You expect to hear birds chirp soon. “Ah you're here early,” Charley says. “Actually I'm here on time, you're not,” you reply with furrowed brow. Charley shrugs and makes a kissy nose the dog that goes back to ravaging the toy. “Whatever, I'm here now,”<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> he says. “Shall we?” he holds out his arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, babe“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. He tries the door and it doesn't budge so he rings the doorbell.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> he says. “Shall we?” he holds out his arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, babe“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. He tries the door and it doesn't budge so he rings the doorbell.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> she says. “Shall we?” she holds out her arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, baby“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. She tries the door and it doesn't budge so she rings the doorbell.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> she says. “Shall we?” she holds out her arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, baby“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. She tries the door and it doesn't budge so she rings the doorbell.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> he says. “Shall we?” he holds out his arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, babe“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. He tries the door and it doesn't budge so he rings the doorbell.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> she says. “Shall we?” she holds out her arm to you and you hesitate but take it. “Let's see how good of a beard you are, baby“ Charley says in a low voice, leading you up to the front porch. She tries the door and it doesn't budge so she rings the doorbell.<</if>> “You don't have a key?” you ask as you both hear noises behind the door. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley shakes his head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Tommy I'm sleeping on the lawn“ he answers.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley shakes his head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Tommy I'm sleeping on the lawn“ he answers.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Charley shakes her head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Marissa I'm sleeping on the lawn“ she answers.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Charley shakes her head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Marissa I'm sleeping on the lawn“ she answers.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley shakes his head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Tommy I'm sleeping on the lawn“ he answers.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Charley shakes her head. “Lost it so many times the parental units refused to get me a copy. If I miss curfew because of Marissa I'm sleeping on the lawn“ she answers.<</if>> You don't have time to ask anything further because the white door opens to reveal the face of a short woman with ginger hair. The pink apron over a white sundress, the pearls on her throat and the shiny diamond ring tells you exactly what Charley's parents are like. “Oh, lovely!“ the woman says, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “You've come in time for tea.” [[NEXT->SQ2-2]] </h3>

<h3> Charley's mother moves into the house and Charley gives you a look of 'shall we?' You pass by a house as spotless as you would expect from a prim housemaker like Mrs. Bright. The house is a colour scheme of white, pastels and pictures of family events dating back to the 60s. <<set $seconds to 10>> She waits for you both in the garden, her skirt bellowing out on the seat with perfection, planned obviously.<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> Charley sits down first and when you lay a hand on your chair to sit down Mrs. Bright clears her throat and looks pointedly at her son. Charley stops in mid-action of stuffing his mouth with a little biscuit and steps it down. He gets up to pull out the chair for you. Awkwardly you sit down and he pushes you in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “my Charley is such a gentleman, isn't he?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> Charley sits down first and when you lay a hand on your chair to sit down Mrs. Bright clears her throat and looks pointedly at her son. Charley stops in mid-action of stuffing his mouth with a little biscuit and steps it down. He gets up to pull out the chair for you. Awkwardly you sit down and he pushes you in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “my Charley is such a gentleman, isn't he?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> You sit down first and when you aim to grab a biscuit shaped like a little seashell, Mrs. Bright clears his throat. She looks from you to her daughter who waits patiently by her chair. You internally sigh and put the biscuit down. You get up and pull the chair out for her, then push her in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “aren't you a gentleman?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> You sit down first and when you aim to grab a biscuit shaped like a little seashell, Mrs. Bright clears his throat. She looks from you to her daughter who waits patiently by her chair. You internally sigh and put the biscuit down. You get up and pull the chair out for her, then push her in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “aren't you a gentleman?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> Charly sits down first and when you lay a hand on your chair to sit down Mrs. Bright clears her throat and looks pointedly at her son. Charley stops in mid-action of stuffing his mouth with a little biscuit and steps it down. He gets up to pull out the chair for you. Awkwardly you sit down and he pushes you in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “my Charley is such a gentleman, isn't he?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> You sit down first and when you aim to grab a biscuit shaped like a little seashell, Mrs. Bright clears his throat. She looks from you to her daughter who waits patiently by her chair. You internally sigh and put the biscuit down. You get up and pull the chair out for her, then push her in. Mrs. Bright beams and says to you, “aren't you a gentleman?”<</if>> “I guess“ you reply, apparently not as enthusiastic as you should've because Mrs. Bright's smile slightly strains. Charley takes a sip of tea, the drink<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> dribbling down his lips. He grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks, “isn't Father joining us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> dribbling down his lips. He grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks, “isn't Father joining us?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> dribbling down her lips. She grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks, “isn't Father joining us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> dribbling down her lips. She grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks “isn't Father joining us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> dribbling down his lips. He grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks “isn't Father joining us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> dribbling down her lips. She grabs a white cloth embroidered with pink flowers and asks “isn't Father joining us?”<</if>> Mrs. Bright smooths the tablecloth in front of her with a gentle smile on her pink lips. “Yes, soon. You know how he likes to talk to his secretary.” You raise your eyebrows and look at Charley who gives you an embarrassed look. Well none of your business. You take a bite out the seashell biscuit and have to move it back and forth between your teeth to wheedle it down enough to bite off a piece. It feels chalky in your mouth. You take a sip of the tea to make it go down. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that she was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that she was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that he was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that he was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that she was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires. You bite down on your tongue as you hear the 'she.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Anyhow, $name. I hear you're back from... where was it that he was residing Charley?” Mrs. Bright inquires. You bite down on your tongue as you hear the 'he.'<</if>> “A wellness centre, Mother. $name just needed some rest“ Charley answers, side-eyeing your reaction. Meanwhile you stare directly into Mrs. Bright's eyes. Mrs. Bright smiles that pleasant smile at you that somehow she makes look like a sneer. “Oh course. Yes the 'wellness centre.' Hopefully you're well rested now, dear“ she says sweetly. You reply with a smile of your own “don't worry, I am.” “Yes, and how did you two meet?” Your blink and look at Charley who is convienently looking inside the teacup. Of course this part is left to you and you weren't even given notes. //Note: the next page is timed.// [[NEXT->Timerstop]] </h3>

<h3> “Is that true?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind but I tried out for the football team.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind but I tried out for the football team.”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind to tell you but $name tried out for the football team.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind to tell you but $name tried out for the football team.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind but I tried out for the football team.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Charley nods and grabs your hand on the table, squeezing it. “Yeah it totally slipped my mind to tell you but $name tried out for the football team.”<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Yeah and he definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Yeah and he definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Yeah and I definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Yeah and I definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Yeah and he definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Yeah and I definitely got in as a...” you falter and look at Charley who looks as equally stumped as you. You should've paid attention to Percy when he would go on about those things.<</if>> “Goa...quarterback,“ you stutter. Mrs. Bright smiles at you in a confused way but doesn't reply, sipping her tea as daintily as she can. Charley shrugs and goes back to demolishing the small perfect biscuits. You eat them more out of having something to do because they grate of your tongue like sand. A door creaks open loudly and Charley jumps. The piece of a biscuit slowly crawls down your throat. Mrs. Bright stands up and clasps her hands in front of her, a smile on her face. A middle-aged man walks into the open frame of the backyard door. He wears a tie and carries a leather-bound briefcase. He has a scowl on his face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?<</if>> Mr. Bright grunts out, “I remember.” Mrs. Bright hurries inside while Mr. Bright sits down at the table which looks comically small and delicate compared to his imposing frame. He unbuttons his jacket to his protruding stomach is freed the constraints of an article of clothing that is far too small. The clacking of Mrs. Bright's heels comes back before you see her. She pours Mr. Bright his tea and says, “they met at a football game.” Mr. Bright holds out a hand and stops her from pouring. Mrs. Bright sets the teapot down and sits stiffly in her chair. Charley slides further down into the seat as Mr. Bright's penetrating gaze lands on both of you. “A football game.” You feel the tension crackling in the air. Is this what it feels like to have attentive parents? Maybe you're lot in life isn't that bad. “What did you think about this year's Super Bowl?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Your shoulders tense but you realize he isn't talking to you but to Charley who looks as pale as a ghost.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Your shoulders tense but you realize he isn't talking to you but to Charley who looks as pale as a ghost.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Your shoulders tense and you look to Charley for support but she is pointedly refusing to make eye contact with you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Your shoulders tense and you look to Charley for support but she is pointedly refusing to make eye contact with you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Your shoulders tense but you realize he isn't talking to you but to Charley who looks as pale as a ghost.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Your shoulders tense and you look to Charley for support but she is pointedly refusing to make eye contact with you.<</if>> You try to rack your brain on anything Percy has said about football over dinner. Enter the answer: //Who won in 1994? Make sure to use capitalization for each word.// <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password2">> </h3>

<h3> Mrs. Bright looks stunned. She turns to Charley and asks in squeaky tone, “you're in youth group?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley looks sheepishly at his mother and answers, “I wanted to surprise you.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley looks sheepishly at his mother and answers, “I wanted to surprise you.”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Charley looks sheepishly at her mother and answers “I wanted to surprise you.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Charley looks sheepishly at her mother and answers “I wanted to surprise you.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley looks sheepishly at his mother and answers “I wanted to surprise you.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>>Charley looks sheepishly at his mother and answers “I wanted to surprise you.”<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her son's side, leaning down to hug him tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping his arms around his mother.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her son's side, leaning down to hug him tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping his arms around his mother.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her daughter's side, leaning down to hug her tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping her arms around her mother.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her daughter's side, leaning down to hug her tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping her arms around her mother.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her son's side, leaning down to hug him tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping his arms around his mother.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mrs. Bright exclaims in delight and gets to her feet. Coming over to her daughter's side, leaning down to hug her tightly. Charley hesitates before wrapping her arms around her mother.<</if>> A door somewhere in the house creaks and breaks apart mother and child. All three of you look into the backyard door as heavy footsteps come closer. Mrs. Bright stands up and clasps her hands in front of her, a smile on her face. A middle-aged man walks into the open frame of the backyard door. He wears a tie and carries a leather-bound briefcase. He has a scowl on his face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that,” she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that,” she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?<</if>> Mr. Bright grunts out, “I remember.” Mrs. Bright hurries inside while Mr. Bright sits down at the table which looks comically small and delicate compared to his imposing frame. He unbuttons his jacket to his protruding stomach is freed the constraints of an article of clothing that is far too small. The clacking of Mrs. Bright's heels comes back before you see her. She pours Mr. Bright his tea and says, “they met at youth group.” Mr. Bright holds out a hand and stops her from pouring. Mrs. Bright sets the teapot down and sits stiffly in her chair. Charley slides further down into the seat as Mr. Bright's penetrating gaze lands on both of you. “Youth group.” From his tone you can't tell if he's asking or stating nor whether he believes you or not. By the look on Charley's face you can tell you're not the only one. “What is the the name and the passage in the bible pertaining to those who call on the name of the Lord but do not believe?” he asks you. You curse your parents for being lapsed Catholics. <hr>\ * [[“Romans 10:13-14.”]] * [[“Romans 10:13-15.”]] * [[“Romans 10:20.”]] </h3>

<h3> “At... theatre club?” Charley swears in whispers and shoots you a look. You glance at Mrs. Bright who purses her lips. Oh. You shake your head and say “Romeo and Juliet, it was Romeo and Juliet, y'know, Shakespeare?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Juliet?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower his face into his teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Juliet?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower his face into his teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Romeo?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower her face into her teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Romeo?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower her face into her teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Juliet?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower his face into his teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mrs. Bright's expression sours. “Did Charley play Romeo?” she asks bitterly. Charley somehow manages to lower her face into her teacup. You're kind of making this worse, huh?<</if>> The silence that accompanies that rhetorical question is uncomfortable to say the least. Charley just begins shoving biscuits in and tries but fails to crunch quietly. You even think you're sipping too loud. Mrs. Bright smoothens the tablecloth about ten times. A door creaks open loudly and Charley jumps. The piece of a biscuit slowly crawls down your throat. Mrs. Bright stands up and clasps her hands in front of her, a smile on her face. A middle-aged man walks into the open frame of the backyard door. He wears a tie and carries a leather-bound briefcase. He has a scowl on his face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, she's seeing our Charley. Remember he told us?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Honey! Oh let me take that“ she says and grabs his brieface, she motions to you and Charley. “This is $name, he's seeing our Charley. Remember she told us?<</if>> Mr. Bright grunts out, “I remember.” Mrs. Bright hurries inside while Mr. Bright sits down at the table which looks comically small and delicate compared to his imposing frame. He unbuttons his jacket to his protruding stomach is freed the constraints of an article of clothing that is far too small. The clacking of Mrs. Bright's heels comes back before you see her. She pours Mr. Bright his tea and says, “they met at theatre club.” Mr. Bright holds out a hand and stops her from pouring. Mrs. Bright sets the teapot down and sits stiffly in her chair. Charley slides further down into the seat as Mr. Bright's penetrating gaze lands on both of you. “Theatre club.” <<set $seconds to 5>> You feel the tension crackling in the air. You need to make this better. [[NEXT->Timestop2]] </h3>

<h3>“Is there a problem?” you ask, eyebrow raised. Mr. Bright's scowl deepens and he says to Charley, “you think I couldn't tell? Do you think I'm stupid?” Charley's eyes widen. “What do you mean?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits “you bring me a gorgeous that any real man would oggle and you look like you would rather have a dick in your mouth!“<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits “that you brought a fucking tranny here. You can always tell you fucking degenerate!“<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits “you bring a faggot to come and play your boyfriend. You've slutted yourself out and he hasn't even looked at your chest once!“<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits “that you brought a fucking tranny here. You can always tell you fucking degenerate!“<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits “you bring me a gorgeous that any real man would oggle and you look like you would rather have a dick in your mouth!“<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright places his curled fists on the table and practically spits, “you bring a faggot to come and play your boyfriend. You've slutted yourself out and he hasn't even looked at your chest once!“<</if>> Mrs. Bright gasps and covers her mouth. You feel a pang of something hot burning in the pit of your stomach and you shot up, the chair toppling behind you. “What the fuck did you just say?” Mr. Bright raises slowly and you resolve almost shakes once you see how much he towers over you. He leans in close, his smelly breath making your throat clench. “Get out of my house you disgusting freak.” You start breathing deeply, your hand curls and you imagine punching him across the face. But your pushed from behind with a force that makes you tackle Mr. Bright down. You both land hard on the ground and before you can react you're pushed out of the way and land on your side. You look to see Charley grippling with Mr. Bright on the ground. “Marie! The gun!“ he yells. With a terrified face, Mrs. Bright runs inside, past the two on the ground punching each other. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his son down, a hand to his throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to military school. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his son down, a hand to his throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to military school. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his daughter down, a hand to her throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to conversion camp. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his daughter down, a hand to her throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to conversion camp. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his son down, a hand to his throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to military school. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright gets the upper hand and pins his daughter down, a hand to her throat. His red face seems to pulse of anger as he screams “don't even think you're ever going to lay a hand on my money. Tomorrow it is straight to conversion camp. You'll see how they straighten you out!“<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull his father's hand off his throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill him. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull his father's hand off his throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill him. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull her father's hand off her throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill her. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull her father's hand off her throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill her. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull his father's hand off his throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill him. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Charley frantically tries to pull her father's hand off her throat, weakly scratching at it. He's going to kill her. You get up and throw yourself against Mr. Bright, throwing your arm against his throat and pressing him into you.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from his throat.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from his throat.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from her throat.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from her throat.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from his throat.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright elbows you in the stomach and gasp at the shearing pain but maintain your hold. Charley coughs painfully as Mr. Bright's hand unclasps from her throat.<</if>> You see Mrs. Bright run into the yard with the pistol. She aims, her hands shaking and looks away as she pulls the trigger. The bullet goes through Mr. Bright and into you. His body goes limp and he falls back, landing you on the ground. You feel like you can't breathe. Your mouth feels full and your tastebuds taste copper. You vainfully try to through Mr. Bright off of you. As your vision swims you feel the weight off your chest and then in a watery visage, Charley looks down at you. You think someone is speaking but you hear no words. Doesn't really matter now if you can't hear though, does it? __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 2: Fake Dating Trope 1994'']] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] </h3>

<h3>“Really? What did you mean to say?” Mrs. Bright asks. You glance at Charley who looks green. “Actually I didn't really misspeak. We did meet at theatre club—“ Charley moans. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“—buttttt it was me who was actually in the group. I was playing Ophelia. Charley had gone to see me rehearse because he thought I looked in his words “really fucking hot“ you lie.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“—buttttt it was me who was actually in the group. I was playing Ophelia. Charley had gone to see me rehearse because he thought I looked in his words “really fucking hot“ you lie.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“—buttttt it was her that was in the group, I wasn't. She was playing Cordelia. I'd gone to see her rehearse because and pardon my French, I thought she looked really fucking hot“ you lie.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“—buttttt it was her that was in the group, I wasn't. She was playing Cordelia. I'd gone to see her rehearse because and pardon my French, I thought she looked really fucking hot“ you lie.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“—buttttt it was me who was actually in the group. I was playing Ophelia. Charley had gone to see me rehearse because he thought I looked in his words “really fucking hot“ you lie.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“—buttttt it was her that was in the group, I wasn't. She was playing Cordelia. I'd gone to see her rehearse because and pardon my French, I thought she looked really fucking hot“ you lie.<</if>> You smile at Mr. Bright but his expression remains unchanged. However, he does grab a biscuit and bite into it. Mrs. Bright hums cheerfully and tops her husband's teacup. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<</if>> The four of you spend the next hour in uncomfortable but less tense silence than before finishing the tea and biscuits. [[NEXT->SQ2-3]] </h3>

<h3>You do a good job in ignoring most of the conversation for the next two hours which from the few times you unfortunately overheard it was something eye-glazing like the moral decline of the Western world due to the rise of feminism and tolerance of atheism. You do so well at nodding and smiling at whatever is being said without paying attention that you're shocked out of your trance when Mr. Bright claps, his heavy hands mimicking a bolt of lightening. “It's settled then,“ Mr. Bright says and all at once the three Brights get up and you do too. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on his face and you ask “what's going on?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on his face and you ask “what's going on?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on her face and you ask “what's going on?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on her face and you ask “what's going on?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on his face and you ask “what's going on?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Charley has a shaky smile on her face and you ask “what's going on?”<</if>> “You didn't hear?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to learn how my wife cooks, Charley will expect the same level of food quality when you're married.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to learn how my wife cooks, Charley will expect the same level of food quality when you're married.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to see if you can keep up. Charley will want a man who can play football because a man like that can protect his wife.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to see if you can keep up. Charley will want a man who can play football because a man like that can protect his wife.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to learn how my wife cooks, Charley will expect the same level of food quality when you're married.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You're about to say that you hadn't but Mr. Bright says “$name, try to see if you can keep up. Charley will want a man who can play football because a man like that can protect his wife.” You feel your face move into a horrified expression but you quickly stretch out a smile.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mr. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows him, giving you a sympathetic look as he passes you by. Mrs. Bright waits until she hears a door closes inside the house and then turns to you with a plastic smile. “Let's get to it daughter.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mr. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows him, giving you a sympathetic look as he passes you by. Mrs. Bright waits until she hears a door closes inside the house and then turns to you with a plastic smile. “Let's get to it daughter.”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mrs. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows her, giving you a nervous grin as she passes you by. Mr. Bright waits until the backyard door closes before saying “now that the girls are gone we can finally let lose, boy.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mrs. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows her, giving you a nervous grin as she passes you by. Mr. Bright waits until the backyard door closes before saying “now that the girls are gone we can finally let lose, boy.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows him, giving you a sympathetic look as he passes you by. Mrs. Bright waits until she hears a door closes inside the house and then turns to you with a plastic smile. “Let's get to it daughter.” Your teeth press together, you don't know how long you can handle being referred to as a female.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mrs. Bright walks into the house and Charley follows her, giving you a nervous grin as she passes you by. Mr. Bright waits until the backyard door closes before saying “now that the girls are gone we can finally let lose, boy.” Your teeth press together, you don't know how long you can handle being referred to as a male.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>[[NEXT->Cooking.]]<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>[[NEXT->Cooking.]]<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>[[NEXT->Football.]]<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>[[NEXT->Football.]]<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>[[NEXT->Cooking.]]<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>[[NEXT->Football.]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is 'Dallas Cowboys'>>[[Correct!->Correct2]]\<<elseif $Password is not 'Dallas Cowboys'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password2">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You whisper the answer to him as discreetly as you can, barely moving your mouth. “The Dallas Cowboys?” Charley mumbles out somehow in an ask.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You whisper the answer to him as discreetly as you can, barely moving your mouth.”The Dallas Cowboys?” Charley mumbles out somehow in an ask.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“The Dallas Cowboys.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“The Dallas Cowboys.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You whisper the answer to him as discreetly as you can, barely moving your mouth. “The Dallas Cowboys?” Charley mumbles out somehow in an ask.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“The Dallas Cowboys.”<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and nudge Charley with your leg. He raises his eyebrow at you and you mouth 'talk more.'<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and nudge Charley with your leg. He raises his eyebrow at you and you mouth 'talk more.'<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and Charley elbows you in the arm. You shoot him at look and he moves his hand in circle by his mouth, telling you to elaborate.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and Charley elbows you in the arm. You shoot him at look and he moves his hand in circle by his mouth, telling you to elaborate.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and nudge Charley with your leg. He raises his eyebrow at you and you mouth 'talk more.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Mr. Bright furrows his eyebrows and Charley elbows you in the arm. You shoot him at look and he moves his hand in circle by his mouth, telling you to elaborate.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like an idiot? Speak, son“ Mr. Bright says to Charley.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like an idiot? Speak, son“ Mr. Bright says to Charley.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like a mute? Speak, boy“ Mr. Bright says to you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like a mute? Speak, boy“ Mr. Bright says to you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like an idiot? Speak, son“ Mr. Bright says to Charley.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“So, are you going to sit there like a mute? Speak, boy“ Mr. Bright says to you.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Charley looks like a deer caught in the headlights so you but in and say...<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Charley looks like a deer caught in the headlights so you but in and say...<<elseif $MC is 'cis male'>>Biting the inside of you cheek you think about all the bullshit you could spin and say...<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Biting the inside of you cheek you think about all the bullshit you could spin and say...<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Charley looks like a deer caught in the headlights so you but in and say...<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Biting the inside of you cheek you think about all the bullshit you could spin and say...<</if>> <hr>\ * [[“I think it was one of the best games in years.”]] * [[“Complete ass.”]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Bright grunts and gives you a withering look. “You thought that was the best game in years?” Feeling like you're making a complete mistake you say, “yes?” Mr. Bright takes the teacup in his large hands and brings it to his mouth, sipping noisely. Mrs. Bright and Charley seem to both be seated at the edge of their seats and you realize he's doing this on purpose. Creating an environment where anything he says could elicit relief or fear. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “I didn't ask you anything at all girl. I don't care to know the opinions on football that girl's have but unlike my son you do know what you're talking about“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “I didn't ask you anything at all girl. I don't care to know the opinions on football that girl's have but unlike my son you do know what you're talking about“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “It looks like you got yourself a real man, Charley“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “It looks like you got yourself a real man, Charley“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “I didn't ask you anything at all girl. I don't care to know the opinions on football that girl's have but unlike my son you do know what you're talking about“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>He swallows and brings the teacup down. “It looks like you got yourself a real man, Charley“ Mr. Bright replies gruffly.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over his face. He mouths a 'thank you.'<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You and Charley look at each other, relief is etched all over her face. She mouths a 'thank you.'<</if>> The four of you spend the next hour in uncomfortable but less tense silence than before finishing the tea and biscuits. [[NEXT->SQ2-3]] </h3>

<h3>Somehow without changing a silence aspect of his expression, Mr. Bright manages to look disgusted. Perks of being a bigot father. “Are you a goddamn commie?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at Charley who looks equally as puzzled. “I don't—“ “Marie get this bleeding heart out of my house“ Mr. Bright says. “But—“ you begin to say when Mrs. Bright gets up and comes over to your side of the table. She holds out a hand and you look around unsure of what to do. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Jesus just take her hand,” Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Jesus just take her hand,” Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<</if>> You're dragged through the house and can't even plant your feet firmly on the ground as this lady is much stronger than she looks. You arm hurts from where her acriylic nails are digging into your skin. You try to pull your arm away but all it does is make her scratch you, either way you don't have time for more struggle as she stops at the front door. She twists the handle and shoves you out with one strong hand. You hold your arms out to save your face from potentially hitting the pavement, luckily your knees hold. You turn your head around as the door slams shut behind you. “What the fuck?” you whisper to yourself. You look to see the dog in front of you. It growls and you get up quickly to prevent being mauled in the face. Still in a state of confusion you go back to the manor. You don't personally hear from Charley again. A few weeks later you do catch snippets of a conversation in school that apparently<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> he was shipped off to military school. You wanted to thank him, for allowing you to be a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp. You wanted to thank her, for allowing you to be a boy.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<</if>> Talk about fucking up. You never even did get to find out what the “something big“ was. Either way you still got other people who have asked for your help. Hopefully it won't get out that you messed this one up. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>“That's wrong.” You furrow your eyebrows. “No that's not wrong.” Mr. Bright glares at you and makes a motion with his hand for Mrs. Bright to continue her pouring. “That's not wrong“ you insist. You haven't stepped foot in a church in years but you remember that line because it was repeated to you specifically by Father Simmons hundreds of times. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, he tries to lay his hand on your arm but your shrug him off. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, he tries to lay his hand on your arm but your shrug him off.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, she tries to lay her hand on your arm but your shrug her off. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, she tries to lay her hand on your arm but your shrug her off.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, he tries to lay his hand on your arm but your shrug him off. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“$name,” Charley whispers furiously at you, she tries to lay her hand on your arm but your shrug her off.<</if>> Mrs. Bright finishes pouring and Mr. Bright looks at you, “if you were right you would know that it continues on until line 15. You should've said the whole thing.” You feel your face heat. “That was a trick fucking question.” “$name!“ Charley says at the same time Mrs. Bright looks scandalized by your swearing. Mr. Bright's nostrils flare, “how did you just speak to me?” You clench your jaw and refuse to look away from his blazing eyes. “You heard me.” Mr. Bright pushes his chair back and his fat belly jostles the table, tea spills on the plates and biscuits glide off onto the ground to be feasts for ants. Charly tenses beside you and says “Dad wait—“ Mr. Bright lifts up a heavy, meaty hand and you try to raise up your hands faster than he can but you feel the hard slap against your cheek and you're thrown sideways, your head smacking against the table. Pain explodes behind your eyes and you feel your legs give out from under you. You cheek bounces off the hard ground and you feel something wet by your ear. Your vision doubles as you watch the ants crawl towards the biscuits stained with blood. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 2: Fake Dating Trope 1994'']] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Bright's eyes flick away from you and he jerks his head for his wife to fill his teacup. “I haven't seen your parents at Mass in years,“ he says. Seems like you answered right, at least by Charley's relaxed shoulders that seems to be the case. You take it Mr. Bright is not that big on praise. “They've been busy,“ you reply and take a sip of your tea. Mr. Bright dips a biscuit into the tea, “no one is too busy for the Lord.” He takes a big bite out of his soggy biscuit and immediately after that grabs another one.<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> Charley has a small smile his face.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> Charley has a small smile his face.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> Charley has a small smile her face.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> Charley has a small smile her face.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> Charley has a small smile his face.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> Charley has a small smile her face.<</if>> The four of you spend the next hour in uncomfortable but less tense silence than before finishing the tea and biscuits. [[NEXT->SQ2-3]] </h3>

<h3>“That has nothing to do with what I asked.” You shake your head “no it's not that one. It's—“ <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid son got out of,” Mr. Bright interrupts you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid son got out of,” Mr. Bright interrupts you.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid daughter got out of“ Mr. Bright interrupts you.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid daughter got out of“ Mr. Bright interrupts you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid son got out of“ Mr. Bright interrupts you.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“You don't know anything about the holy book, who the heck knows what gutter of sin my stupid daughter got out of“ Mr. Bright interrupts you.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by his domineering father.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by his domineering father.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by her domineering father.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by her domineering father.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by his domineering father.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“$name just made a small mistake“ Charley says but far too quietly to be heard by her domineering father.<</if>> “Marie take this dirty heathen out of my sight“ Mr. Bright says. “But—“ you begin to say when Mrs. Bright gets up and comes over to your side of the table. She holds out a hand and you look around unsure of what to do. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at him and he looks down at his lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Jesus just take her hand“ Charley says in a low voice. You look at her and he looks down at her lap, utterly defeated. Mrs. Bright grip is strong and she pulls you up and you don't have time to say another word.<</if>> You're dragged through the house and can't even plant your feet firmly on the ground as this lady is much stronger than she looks. You arm hurts from where her acriylic nails are digging into your skin. You try to pull your arm away but all it does is make her scratch you, either way you don't have time for more struggle as she stops at the front door. She twists the handle and shoves you out with one strong hand. You hold your arms out to save your face from potentially hitting the pavement, luckily your knees hold. You turn your head around as the door slams shut behind you. “What the fuck?” you whisper to yourself. You look to see the dog in front of you. It growls and you get up quickly to prevent being mauled in the face. Still in a state of confusion you go back to the manor. You don't personally hear from Charley again. A few weeks later you do catch snippets of a conversation in school that apparently<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<</if>> Well, that could've gone better. You're sure you were at the right chapter and you're sure it was Romans. You just went about four lines too far. That mistake did cost someone else dearly but apparently not you because you keep getting more potential clients asking for you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>Mrs. Bright shuts the door and the voices of Mr. Bright and Charley are muffled. Hopefully both of your tasks will be fairly easy. You stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen while Mrs. Bright begins taking out pots and pans and knives and cutting boards and things that you don't even know the name of. She hums something that you'd think would be on the radio in the 50s, playing the background as a drugged up housewife soulessly wipes down the counters. Clearly, Mrs. Bright takes uppers. She orders everything in a perfect line of the counter and then takes an apron that lays on the back of a chair. She hands it to you and you tie it on. It white with pink trimming. “What are we cooking?” you ask. Mrs. Bright snorts and then clasps her hands together with a smile that has a certain mocking delight to it. “//You're// going to be cooking my dear. If you're going to be keeping house when married to my Charley I need to know how well your skills in the kitchen are.” Married? You feel a shiver go down your spine. These people are insane. “One of the most popular French chefs in the world was a man, his name was Marie-Antoine Carême and he is responsible for the way haute cuisine is viewed today,” you babble. Mrs. Bright looks at you strangely and just nods, merely thinking you're just incredibly weird instead of understanding what you're trying to say. You look at all the random thing-a-ma-bobs she left out on the counter and wonder if you'll actually be using all of them. Mr. Bright reaches over to straighten a knife and says “you'll be making ground beef spinach casserole.” You almost gape at all those words together. You can barely make cereal. All those years of Sally cooking for you sort of spoiled you. [[NEXT->SQ2-4]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Bright asks you to wait on the grass as he goes throw a small door on the side of the house. You decide to sit down and pick at the grass to pass the time. He comes back as you've been observing the ant cruel along your hand. You were waiting for it to bite. You look down to see the football in his hairy hands and think that maybe it would've been best to fake sickness. He's going to break your fucking teeth. “Get up, boy“ Mr. Bright says, towering over you. You wipe away the grass from your legs and and stand up, keenly aware of how much taller than you he is. His arm is is thicker than your neck. “Since the ol' ball and chain popped out a girl I haven't been able to throw the old pigskin with a son“ he says and moves away from you, across the backyard. You turn your body to face him, both of you parallel. “They call footballs, pigskins because the first ones were made of pig bladders“ you say in response. Mr. Bright gives you a confused and slightly disgusted look “why the heck would you say that for?” You shrug and plant your feet on the ground. The last thing you want is to lose your front teeth because of something that evolved from the place where pig's shit and piss. “Alright, son know we're just going to play a friendly game, I throw it to you, you catch it and throw it back. What you do with your father,“ he says. You mentally snort, sure you do. [[NEXT->SQ2-4*]] </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "Freeze">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

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<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer“>> <hr>\ * [[“We met in theatre club.”]] * [[“We met at the football game.”]] * [[“We met at Youth group.”]] </h3>

<h3>You open your mouth but nothing comes out. You must look ridiculous or stupid or both. <<if not $time1>>\ Charley nudges you and press your mouth closed. Mrs. Bright's slip dips and she repeats “where did you two meet?” <<elseif $time1 >>\ You freeze under Mr. Bright's intense stare. It seems you just can't pick up any of the threads that could lead you to salvation. <</if>>\ <<if not $time1>>\ Why can't you speak? You're usually so good at thinking on your feet. It's such a simple question too. How many lies haven't you told in your life? <<elseif $time1>>\ “Seems like $name was brought here to make it seem your kid wasn't a fucking degenerate“ Mr. Bright spits. <</if>>\ <<if not $time1>>\ <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her son. “Is your girlfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her son. “Is your girlfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her daughter. “Is your boyfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her daughter. “Is your boyfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her son. “Is your girlfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Charley?” Mrs. Bright turns to her daughter. “Is your boyfriend one of those mental degraded kids?”<</if>> <<elseif $time1>>\ Somehow like a dog, Mrs. Bright knows that's her cue from her husband gets up, curling her thin finger for you to follow her. Mr. Bright's hard eyes prevent you from speaking to Charley who doesn't even deign to look in your direction. <</if>>\ <<if not $time1>>\ Charley sighs. You would have hoped for some interruption about now but the silence continues on for the next five minutes. Once the last bite of biscuit slowly crawls like sand down your throat Mrs. Bright gets up. “I don't like liars in my home. Let me show you out“ she says. She doesn't wait for you before walking into the house. “Charley—“ “Just go.” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Your client crosses his arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Your client crosses his arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Your client crosses her arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Your client crosses her arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Your client crosses his arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Your client crosses her arms and looks towards the leaves of the tree providing shade to this part of the yard.<</if>> <<elseif $time1 >>\ Internally cursing you get up and follow Mrs. Bright's clacking heels to the front of the house. Like a guard, Mrs. Bright is waiting by the open from door. You touch the pavement and the door immediately slams behind you. <</if>>\ You find you can't say anything else and go into the house. Like a guard, Mrs. Bright is waiting by the open from door. You touch the pavement and the door immediately slams behind you. You don't personally hear from Charley again. A few weeks later you do catch snippets of a conversation in school that apparently<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> he was shipped off to military school. You wanted to thank him, for giving you the chance of feeling like a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> she was sent to conversion camp. You wanted to thank her, for giving you the chance of feeling like a boy.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> he was shipped off to military school.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> she was sent to conversion camp.<</if>> Still, your utter fuck up doesn't stop the calls nor the letters from other townies so you guess not all is lost. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer“>><<set $time1 to true>> <hr>\ * [[“Yeah, theatre club.”]] * [[“I misspoke.”]] </h3>

<h3> “Well, come on,“ Mrs. Bright grabs your arm and forces you closer to the utensils and appliances. <<set $seconds to 15>> “First you're going to place the skillet over <span style=“color:black“>''medium-high heat'',</span> that's this,” she picks up a pan that looks no different to you from other pans, “and then you're going to <span style=“color:black“>''add the ground beef, onion, and the garlic,''</span> but these things have to be cut beforehand.” You try to mentally keep track of her instructions, eyeing the ingredients as she says. She points to a corner where you see she's neatly placed the seasonings. “Those go in the pan<span style=“color:black“> ''next,''</span> and then you let it cook. Then comes the <span style=“color:black“>''spinach, soup, sour cream,'"</span> and wait a few more minutes before putting all that in a casserole dish, that's when you add the <span style=“color:black“>''mozzarella on top,''</span> and finally put it in the oven for about <span style=“color:black“>''fifteen minutes.''</span>“ she finishes. She looks at you then with an unperturbed expression, “did you get all that?” “Um“ you reply and look over the everything on the counter which maybe due to confusion seems to have multipled in the last few seconds. Mrs. Bright claps her hands once and says, “I'll just be in the living room catching up on The Bold and the Beautiful.” Mrs. Bright with her noisy heels leaves the kitchen all to you. You look at the clock on the wall and sigh as you see how much time you have left before you can make the excuse of going home before sunset. You look at the stove and the pan. [[NEXT->SQ2-5]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>><<set $time2 to true>> How high did she say it should be? <hr>\ * [[Medium.]] * [[Medium-high.]] * [[High.]] * [[Ok, fuck this.]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Bright looks at the grass behind him and takes a few steps back. You pay close attention to his arms and truly begin to understand the enormity of what you're doing. This isn't only to show that you're 'a man' but also a way that a man like Mr. Bright can get his kicks. From the moment he came home, you could tell how much of a bully he is. That's way his daughter is willing to solicit a complete freak. That's how desperate living with such a sexist homopohic bastard must be. Of course, his beliefs aren't exactly odd in this town. People in this town aren't accepting exactly. They whisper and stare and probably make some snide comments under their breath. Of course it isn't as bad as the cities, you've never been to a city but you've heard stories about people getting killed for who they sleep with. “Hey, are we going to play or what?” Mr. Bright interrupts your train of thought. You realize you had been staring up at the sky. You nod and shrug off your light coat. Planting your feet slightly apart, you open your arms and poise your body to move. Mr. Bright wastes no time before moving his arm back and hurling the football towards your person. The throw is fast and by the way his arm flexed you can tell it's coming in rough. You brace yourself. [[NEXT->SQ2-5*]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>><<set $time3 to true>> The ball is about to collide with your face. What do you do?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Grab it.]] * [[Jump to the side.]] * [[Catch it easily.]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> Ok, the dial is set. Now what?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Add the seasonings.]] * [[Add the spinach, soup and sour cream.]] * [[Add the ground beef, onion and garlic.]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> Ok, the dial is set. Now what?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Add the seasonings.->seasonings2]] * [[Add the spinach, soup and sour cream.->cream2]] * [[Add the ground beef, onion and garlic.->beef2]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> Ok, the dial is set. Now what?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Add the seasonings.->seasonings3]] * [[Add the spinach, soup and sour cream.->cream3]] * [[Add the ground beef, onion and garlic.->beef3]] </h3>

<h3><<if $time2 >>\ Your hands sort freeze as if you've lost the ability to work them. The problem with that is that to 'jerk' them awake you just randomly without much thought move the dial of the stove to the highest it can go and start throwing ingredients in. Why do you do this? Well in times of uncertainty we might think doing something, anything in terms of motion is beneficial when really it will make things worse. You stand there like an idiot as food starts burning against the pan, black smoke rising into the air. You somehow feel like you aren't in your body as the smoke tickles you nose. Your press your hand over your chest and lay the other on top of it as smoke begins filling the stove and its surrounding areas. You hear a shriek behind you. You look back to see Mrs. Bright standing there, her mouth open. She pushes past you and starts filling up a pot with water, “William!“ She carries the pot over to the begins of a small fire in the skillet and throws the water at it. It doesn't do much to calm it down. She cries and goes to the sink to refill it again. Mr. Bright runs into the kitchen, his face in a panic. His eyes widen at the ever growing fire and he takes off his jacket. He starts slamming it against the fire. You turn to see Charley pausing at the frame of the door, his face in disbelief. Somehow your limbs start working again and you slowly back again from the scene. You keep backing away until your back touches the front door. Without a second thought you unlock it behind you and slip out. You might've technically failed but you said what you wanted to and you have other clients and you still helped Charley in a way. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $time3 and $throwball >>\ Your hands sort freeze as if you've lost the ability to work them. You don't what happened in between the throw and this moment but you can't seem to gain back that moment of decisiveness. You stand there with the football and in your hands. “What are you doing?” Mr. Bright says, a confused and frustrated look on his face. You shake your head but don't answer. Mr. Bright growls and stalks over to you, ripping the football from your hands. He wipes it on his shirt as if you were diseased. He picks up the football and digs his nails in. “You can't even throw a football but you expect to one day be the man that protects my daughter?” You shake your head, “no actually I don't—“ “Get out of my house you fucking pussy,” he fumes. “I caught it, doesn't that—“ “OUT.” You nod and quickly go to the fence and unlatch a small door. You don't need to be told twice with a man that's about taller and bigger than you. You don't slow down until a little over an hour later when you realize you're on the road towards the manor. In the time you got to walk home you received a message from Charley who says that she understands and thanks you for trying. She even did the favour of apparently not telling anyone because you get new calls that night. Oh well, you can always try to do better with others. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $time3 >>\ So what do you do when you find a football hurtling towards you? The answer is nothing. You don't move, like an animal that is crossing the road at night from the woods and sees a car coming. You just wait to get hit. And that you do. The football smashes into the center of your face with a force that throws your back and knocks the wind out of you as your head smacks against the hard earth. You gasp as a sharp and thick taste fills your mouth. “Oh fuck“ you hear from Mr. Bright somewhere seemingly far away. You lift your hand to your mouth and huff out a moan. You bring your fingers up to your eyesight and see the tip stained with blood. Mr. Bright invades your vision with his presence, he leans down and grips your arm, pulling you up in a seating position. You spit out a glob of blood. “Look at me boy.” You turn to him and Mr. Bright swears. “Marie! Bring me something cold from the freezer now!“ he shouts. As Charley opens the backyard with a pale skin you move your tongue around and feel one of your front teeth wiggle. [[NEXT->footballfail]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> Okay, you added the seasonings. What's next?<<set $seasonings1 to true>><<set $seconds to 10>>\ <hr>\ * [[Add the spinach, soup and cream.]] * [[Move it to the casserole dish.]] * [[You have no idea.]] </h3>

<h3>Adding the spinach, soup and sour cream which you remember is the last step. You shove it pan and all into the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the ground beef is and why this looks both burnt in some parts and undercooked in others?” You chuckle in strained way, “it's French?” And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. “It's french?” you say to yourself in reproach. You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> You've added the ground beef, and etc., now what?<<set $beef1 to true>><<set $seconds to 10>>\ <hr>\ * [[Add the spinach, soup and cream.]] * [[Move it to the casserole dish.]] * [[You have no idea.]] </h3>

<h3>Adding the spinach, soup and sour cream which you remember is the last step. You shove it pan and all into the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings1 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the ground beef is and how it somehow undercooked?” <<elseif $beef1 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where spinach, soup and sour cream is and how it somehow in its mess still looks well-cooked?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings1 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “it's vegan?” <<elseif $beef1 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “it's French?” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings1 >>\ “It's vegan?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $beef1 >>\ “It's French?” you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You distinctly remember that this with added mozarella was the final step before putting in the oven and so after that is done you sit at the breakfast table. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say ,“how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah,“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings1 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven, with only seasonings on melted cheese?” <<elseif $beef1 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven, with only beef and melted cheese?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings1 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “I wanted to make nachos?” <<elseif $beef1 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “it's French?” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings1 >>\ “I wanted to make nachos?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $beef1 >>\ “It's French?” you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You have a skillet with seasonings on it and no idea what comes next. Obviously, you need to more things... was it spinach that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? You hear a scream come from the television in the next room over. You look at the clock and groan. You move to the window, facing the background and see Charley with his father, throwing around a football. Charley looks as miserable as you'd expect. You decide not to examine too hard what you feel for Charley's plight as you untie the apron, throw it on the floor and slowly sneak past the living room to the front door. You twist the knob and open it until you hear a creak and presses your teeth together. You wait to hear for any footsteps or a voice but all the noise comes from the soap. You wait until a loud moment occures on the show to slow open the door as much as you can before it quiets down again. You slip throw the crack in the door and sprint down the steps and down the street, not looking back once. You go home, and try not to think about how you basically abandoned Charley to his fate. Not one of your finest moments nor most moral but you couldn't do that shit. You were asked too much. Yeah, those justifications sound plausible and able to wipe you clean. Even better it seems that either Charley didn't say anything or hasn't yet as you get more calls during the day. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> Okay, you added the seasonings. What's next?<<set $seasonings2 to true>><<set $seconds to 10>>\ <hr>\ * [[Add the spinach, soup and cream.->spinach2]] * [[Move it to the casserole dish.-dish2]] * [[You have no idea.-idea2]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>><<set $cream2 to true>> You add the cream. Now what?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Move it to the casserole dish.-dish2]] * [[Add the ground beef, onion and garlic.->beef2]] * [[You have no idea.-idea2]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> You've added the ground beef, and etc,. now what?<<set $beef2 to true>><<set $seconds to 10>>\ <hr>\ * [[You let it cook on the stove.]] * [[The seasonings.]] * [[You have no idea.-idea2]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>><<set $seasonings3 to true>>\ Okay, you added the seasonings. What's next?<<set $seconds to 10>> <hr>\ * [[Add the spinach, soup and cream.->spinach3]] * [[Move it to the casserole dish.-dish3]] * [[You have no idea.-idea3]] </h3>

<h3>Adding the spinach, soup and sour cream which you remember is the last step. You shove it pan and all into the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah,“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings3 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the ground beef is and why is even this mess completely burned to a crisp?” <<elseif $beef3 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the spinach is and why is even this mess completely burned to a crisp?” <<elseif not $beef3 && $seasonings3>> “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the beef and any seasoning is and why is even this mess completely burned to a crisp?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings3 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “it's vegan?” <<elseif $beef3 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “it's French?” <<elseif not $beef3 && $seasonings3>>\ You chuckle in strained way, “I'm looking out for my figure?” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings3 >>\ “It's vegan?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $beef3 >>\ “It's French?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif not $beef3 && $seasonings3>>\ “I'm looking out for my figure?” you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> You've added the ground beef, and etc,. now what?<<set $beef3 to true>><<set $seconds to 10>>\ <hr>\ * [[Add the spinach, soup and sour cream.->cream3]] * [[Move it to the casserole dish.-dish3]] * [[You have no idea.-idea3]] </h3>

<h3>Adding the spinach, soup and sour cream which you remember is the last step. You shove it pan and all into the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings2 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the ground beef is and how it somehow well-cooked?” <<elseif $beef2 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where spinach, soup and sour cream is and how it somehow in its mess still looks well-cooked?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings2 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “how is it well-cooked? Sheer dumb luck.” <<elseif $beef2 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “how is it well-cooked? Sheer dumb luck.” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings2 >>\ “Sheer dumb idiot“ you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $beef2 >>\ “Sheer dumb idiot“ you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You transfer it all to a casserole dish, add the melted cheese and shove it in the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings2 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven, with only seasonings on melted cheese?” <<elseif $cream2 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven, with only spinach and melted cheese?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings2 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “I wanted to make nachos?” <<elseif $cream2 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “I'm watching my figure?” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings1 >>\ “I wanted to make nachos?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $cream2 >>\ “I'm watching my figure?” you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><<if $seasonings2 >>\ You have a skillet and you've added things to it but you have no idea what comes next. Obviously, you need to add food but... was it spinach that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? What you do know is that she did say medium-heat, so you can listen to first steps at least. <<elseif $cream2 >>\ You have a skillet and you've added things to it but you have no idea what comes next. Obviously, you need to more add food but... was it cheese that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? What you do know is that she did say medium-heat, so you can listen to first steps at least. <<elseif $beef2 >>\ You have a skillet and you've added things to it but you have no idea what comes next. Obviously, you need to more add food but... was it spinach that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? What you do know is that she did say medium-heat, so you can listen to first steps at least. <</if>>\ You hear a scream come from the television in the next room over. You look at the clock and groan. You move to the window, facing the background and see Charley with his father, throwing around a football. Charley looks as miserable as you'd expect. You decide not to examine too hard what you feel for Charley's plight as you untie the apron, throw it on the floor and slowly sneak past the living room to the front door. You twist the knob and open it until you hear a creak and presses your teeth together. You wait to hear for any footsteps or a voice but all the noise comes from the soap. You wait until a loud moment occures on the show to slow open the door as much as you can before it quiets down again. You slip throw the crack in the door and sprint down the steps and down the street, not looking back once. You go home, and try not to think about how you basically abandoned Charley to his fate. Not one of your finest moments nor most moral but you couldn't do that shit. You were asked too much. Yeah, those justifications sound plausible and able to wipe you clean. Even better it seems that either Charley didn't say anything or hasn't yet as you get more calls during the day. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>Adding the spinach, soup and sour cream which you remember is the last step. You shove it pan and all into the oven. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say, “how's the show?” She tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. “Do you mind telling me $name, why did you put the skillet into the oven, where the ground beef, where the spinach is and why is even this mess completely burned to a crisp?” You chuckle in strained way, “it's vegan?” And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. “It's vegan?” you say to yourself in reproach. You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You distinctly remember that this with added mozarella was the final step before putting in the oven and so after that is done you sit at the breakfast table. You keep eye on the clock for the next fifteen minutes, all the while you can hear the commotion on the television of crying, declarations of love, slaps and vows of vengence and the span of less than ten minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “Huh.” You take a fork and poke at it. Maybe, that's the way it's supposed to look? You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give her a big smile and say, “how's the show?” You tries to peek over your shoulder put you raise your feet up. “It's been forty-minutes, I would think the food is ready by now“ she says in a suspicious tone. “You would think so yeah“ you reply in a voice that sounds a bit too high to be your own. “Let me see—“ “NO.” Mrs. Bright looks taken away by your tone of voice and you don't even have time to feel satisfaction because she click-clacks her way over to you and effortlessly pushes you aside. You can't see her face but the body language tells you that you might've missed a few steps or done them completely out of order. <<if $seasonings3 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven seasoning on melted cheese and how even that is burned to a crisp?” <<elseif $beef3 >>\ “Do you mind telling me $name, why is there a casserole dish in the oven with only beef on melted cheese and how even that is burned to a crisp?” <</if>>\ <<if $seasonings3 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “I thought nachos would be better?” <<elseif $beef3 >>\ You chuckle in strained way, “maybe we could eat some texmex?” <</if>>\ And that is how you find yourself on being shoved out the front door with the door slamming behind you. The dog nips at your feet as you walk down the front lawn. <<if $seasonings3 >>\ “Nachos?” you say to yourself in reproach. <<elseif $beef3 >>\ “Texmex?” you say to yourself in reproach. <</if>>\ You decide you're never cooking again and go home to where you can be fed proper food. At least you still have other clients that need your help, unfortunately you know things aren't going to work out for Charley. But really, no one can expect miracles from you. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><<if $seasonings3 >>\ You have a skillet with seasonings on it and no idea what comes next. Obviously, you need to add food but... was it spinach that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? Damn it, you think you even got the heat wrong, set on high the seasoning is burning into the skillet. <<elseif $beef3 >>\ You have a skillet with beef on it and no idea what comes next. Obviously, there were more things in the instructions... was it spinach that went somewhere here? Did it come before the beef or the after? Damn it, you think you even got the heat wrong, set on high the seasoning is burning into the skillet. <</if>>\ You hear a scream come from the television in the next room over. You look at the clock and groan. You move to the window, facing the background and see Charley with his father, throwing around a football. Charley looks as miserable as you'd expect. You decide not to examine too hard what you feel for Charley's plight as you untie the apron, throw it on the floor and slowly sneak past the living room to the front door. You twist the knob and open it until you hear a creak and presses your teeth together. You wait to hear for any footsteps or a voice but all the noise comes from the soap. You wait until a loud moment occures on the show to slow open the door as much as you can before it quiets down again. You slip throw the crack in the door and sprint down the steps and down the street, not looking back once. You go home, and try not to think about how you basically abandoned Charley to his fate. Not one of your finest moments nor most moral but you couldn't do that shit. You were asked too much. Yeah, those justifications sound plausible and able to wipe you clean. Even better it seems that either Charley didn't say anything or hasn't yet as you get more calls during the day. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You're pretty sure there's something about an oven and a casserole dish but you decide to just wing it. You let the skillet cook on the stove and meanwhile play with the saltshakers as your ear catches snippets of the melodrama on the TV the next room over. You don't remember how much time you're supposed to let it cook for so you opt to instead 'feel it' out. After about ten or so minutes you turn off the stove and grab a fork to move around the contents of the skillet. “Oh“ you say. “Well... huh.” You hear a scream come from the television in the next room over. You look at the clock and groan. You move to the window, facing the background and see Charley with his father, throwing around a football. Charley looks as miserable as you'd expect. You decide not to examine too hard what you feel for Charley's plight as you untie the apron, throw it on the floor and slowly sneak past the living room to the front door. You twist the knob and open it until you hear a creak and presses your teeth together. You wait to hear for any footsteps or a voice but all the noise comes from the soap. You wait until a loud moment occures on the show to slow open the door as much as you can before it quiets down again. You slip throw the crack in the door and sprint down the steps and down the street, not looking back once. You go home, and try not to think about how you basically abandoned Charley to his fate. Not one of your finest moments nor most moral but you couldn't do that shit. You were asked too much. Yeah, those justifications sound plausible and able to wipe you clean. Even better it seems that either Charley didn't say anything or hasn't yet as you get more calls during the day. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You add the seasonings, then you let it shimmer for five minutes before adding the spinach, condensed soup and sour cream. Unfortunately Mrs. Bright didn't give you exact measurements so you have to eye it and hope for the best. You wait for that to cook for about five minutes and then dump it as graciously as you can into the casserole dish where you top it off with mozzarella cheese. You put in the oven and wait at the breakfast table for around twenty minutes. When time's up you take out the pan with oven mitts and place it on the stove. “I mean, maybe?” You take a fork and poke at it. It doesn't look atrocious, you could've spread out the food better along the casserole dish but it looks edible. You hear the telltale clacking of Mrs. Bright heels and turn around, hiding the pan behind you. You give a low effort smile and move aside to have her see. She moves you over slightly as she peers down into the casserole dish, “you needed to spread the food around the dish better.” “Yeah I figured,“ you reply in a voice you hope sounds sheepish. She holds out her hand and look down at it confused, does she want you to pay her for cooking for her family? “Uh—“ “The apron,“ she says. You untie it and she goes to a hook by the wall and hangs it. “Call the boys while I set the table,“ she instructs you. Happy to be out of the kitchen, you oblige. [[NEXT->SQ2-6]] </h3>

<h3>You sit next to Charley, Mrs. Bright across from you and Mr. Bright at the head of the table. There's no talk so the only sound in between chews is cutlerly scraping against the porcelain plates. You were a bit nervous to eat the food Mrs. Bright forced you to make but with a bit of added salt, it's actually not that bad. You've tasted better and this would be a dish served to hospital patients and passengers on planes but at least it isn't gag inducing. Mr. Bright takes up his cup full of water and eyes you and Charley over the rim as he noisly gulps. You don't like that look. He hasn't said anything since you've all sat down together apart from giving thanks for the food to the Lord. An odd practice, at least you've never done that in your home, you didn't know people did that outside of movies. He sets his glass down with a pronounced thump and clears his throat before saying, “how long have you two been seeing each other?” You $habit as you try to come up with a good and plausible date. “Almost two months“ Charley answers. Mr. Bright's eyes narrow and he says with a hint of suspicion “how have you'v been dating that long if $name was at... where did you say they were in the summer?” “A wellness centre, dear.” “Yeah she was but we did long distance for a bit“ Charley quickly answers. You feel a sense of dread as what he's saying makes no sense when you consider where you said you two met if you two months ago you weren't in town to meet him. Why can't people leave the lying to you? Mr. Bright stares at you, blinking only once and you think that he's going to probably ask you why you're timeline sounds faker than snake oil. “You two don't act like it.” [[NEXT->SQ2-7]] </h3>

<h3> You raise your arms and tense your hands in front of your face at the moment the football thumps into them. “Humph,“ you say, the velocity of throw almost pushing you back. The end of the football is inches from your nose. You exhale deeply. How lucky was your catch? <<set $throwball to true>> “Woohoo! Attaboy!“ Mr. Bright yells. You bring the football down and chest and inhale through your nose to prevent yourself from cursing him out. Is football about trying to see who breaks one another's face first? You don't get what Nia sees in sports. Mr. Bright bends his knees and raises up his pants. He puts his hands and squints. You look down at the football in your hands. “What are you waiting for? Madonna in a bikini? C'mon!“ he yells. You try to mimic the position he was in when he threw it to you. Your weak arm strains as you lift it behind you. Your nails dig into the material. [[NEXT->Throw]] </h3>

<h3>You don't even try to catch it as it comes like a missile towards you. You practically throw yourself to the right and feel the wind of the football graze your face. You bend your leg from falling onto your side. You look behind you to see where the football went. “What the fuck was that pussy move?” Mr. Bright scolds. He jogs over to the fence of surrounding the backyard and peers over it. The football must have gone over to the neighbors. “Bertram! Pass me that ball will you? My stupid son-in-law doesn't know how to catch a ball“ Mr. Bright says loudly. You stick up the middle finger at him and are about to bring up the other one too when he turns around. You quickly drop your arms and clasp them behind you, your lips rolled closed. Mr. Bright peers at you suspiciously. He walks past you to his original position. “We'll try this again. Catch the ball this time“ he commands and doesn't give you time to think before he throws it again. [[NEXT->failedcatch1]] </h3>

<h3>Maybe your... moments of violence provide you some form of strength. You raise your arms in a non-chalant manner and don't even bother to tighten and keep your form as the ball nears you. From your point of view it looks like it's coming right into your hands, this will be easier than you thought. You can feel the corners of your lips curl. You're about to proclaim victory when the football slides throw your fingers and slams into your teeth. You're thrown back, the wind being knocked out of you as your ears ring. You gasp as a sharp and thick taste fills your mouth. “Oh fuck“ you hear from Mr. Bright somewhere seemingly far away. You lift your hand to your mouth and huff out a moan. You bring your fingers up to your eyesight and see the tip stained with blood. Mr. Bright invades your vision with his presence, he leans down and grips your arm, pulling you up in a seating position. You spit out a glob of blood. “Look at me boy.” You turn to him and Mr. Bright swears. “Marie! Bring me something cold from the freezer now!“ he shouts. As Charley opens the backyard with a pale skin you move your tongue around and feel one of your front teeth wiggle. [[NEXT->footballfail]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> <hr>\ * [[Do an overhead throw.]] * [[Do a side throw.]] * [[Just slam it forward.]] </h3>

<h3>You essentially chuck it over your head, and to your credit when it leaves your hands it is a throw. It has all the mechanics of a throw. It leaves your hands and it flies throw the air. It just doesn't land that far. Actually most of the momentum of your throw is up not up and forward. So you watch as the ball lands an embarrasing few feet away from you. You pulled a weak throw. The type of throw a Victorian child dying of tuberculosis would throw. That is your throw. You make eye contact with Mr. Bright who is glaring at the football. “Heh“ you chuckle. “What the heck was that?” he says with a irritated tone. “A throw?” you answer. “A throw,” he repeats like he can't believe you have the audacity. He picks up the football and digs his nails in. “You can't even throw a football but you expect to one day be the man that protects my daughter?” You shake your head, “no actually I don't—“ “Get out of my house you fucking pussy“ he fumes. “I caught it, doesn't that—“ “OUT.” You nod and quickly go to the fence and unlatch a small door. You don't need to be told twice with a man that's about taller and bigger than you. You don't slow down until a little over an hour later when you realize you're on the road towards the manor. In the time you got to walk home you received a message from Charley who says that she understands and thanks you for trying. She even did the favour of apparently not telling anyone because you get new calls that night. Oh well, you can always try to do better with others. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You one hand it, as you saw Mr. Bright do and because it looks like the easiest way to throw a ball and you're not in the mood to try anything more complicated or that requires more strength than you have. The football leaves your hand and goes directly towards Mr. Bright who has to step a few feet forward to actually catch it. “Well that wasn't so bad, you could use shoulder more to give some 'umphf' to your throw but not bad,“ Mr. Bright says. He throws it back and you aren't as worried as before, you catch it although it's a fumbling affair that isn't as impressive but Mr. Bright doesn't look pissed off so that's a success in your book. You don't know how long you two spend out there throwing the “pigskin“ but the sun seems much lower as you bend down to catch the football. “Hey you two, dinner's ready,“ Charley says, peeking her head out the back door. “Coming,“ Mr. Bright says. He walks over to you and you hand him the football. He doesn't quite give you a smile but there is a certain levity in his small eyes. “You played well enough, you should practice more though,“ he advises and goes to put the football away. You head inside. [[NEXT->SQ2-6*]] </h3>

<h3>You raise it above your head and use all the strength you have in your arms, shoulders and back to slam it foward as hard as you can. It does go forward and it goes hard. You begin to smile when you see how powerful and correct your throw was before it slams into Mr. Bright's face. His head snaps back and he stumbles blindly. Your mouth falls open as you watch Mr. Bright's head move down and see the blood dripping from his nose. “Oh shit“ you say and take a few steps forward, your arms up in a sort of surrender. “Fucking... oh Lord... hurts like a fucking...” Mr. Bright tries to say as blood cascades down his nostrils to his mouth. You scrunch your nose when you see the blood coat his teeth. “MARIE!“ he screams, blood splattering on his chin. Mrs. Bright comes running out of the house and screams when she sees her husband's face. “Charley get ice now!“ Mrs. Bright screams in turn. Charley comes out throws a hand over her mouth. She quickly goes inside and Mrs. Bright walks over to her husband, gently cupping his face. Mr. Bright groans as she touches his nose. Meanwhile, you stand rigid on the grass. Your arms still lifted in surrender. You just broke this man's nose. Sure, he's an ass but that wasn't what you were hired for. Charley comes out with ice cubes in a plastic sandwich bag. She hands it to her mother who pressures it against Mr. Bright's swollen, red nose. Charley makes eye contact with you and jerks her head to the back door. You raise an eyebrow at her and she whispers, “get out of here.” You don't need to be told twice. You walk past the Brights and speed-walk through the house, throwing the front door open, not bothering to close it and almost sprinting all the way home. Out of breath you open the door to the manor, run up the stairs, close your bedroom door behind you and sprawl on the bed. You fall immediately asleep, your last thought being that you'll just do a better job with the next one. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include “Timer2“>> <hr>\ * [[Catch it easily.]] * [[Do a side throw.]] * [[Jump to the side again.]] </h3>

<h3>Your lead into the kitchen and Mrs. Bright presses a pack of peas to your mouth. “Are you okay?” Charley asks. “He's fine“ Mr. Bright answers. Mrs. Bright presses the peas too hard and you winceas you feel another trickle of blood fill your mouth. “Do you think we should take him to the hospital?” Mrs. Bright asks. “Yeah—“ “He's fine“ Mr. Bright interrupts you. “Right?” he asks. By the look on his face it seems that he wouldn't like if you disagreed with him. It's not like you can talk that much anyway with Mrs. Bright practically shoving the peas into your mouth. The blood eventually stops but your mouth feels far too tender and swollen to really speak. It doesn't help that you can't stop from prodding your loose teeth with your tongue. Begrudgingly, Mr. Bright drives you home. It's an entire car ride with him alternating between berating you for being a lousy catcher and telling you that you're fine. Luckily to avoid to further scandal, Sally isn't home and so you can creep into your room and sleep off the pain. You spectacularly failed this mission but you have others at your disposal if you so like in the future. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You really can't help it and throw yourself to the side away, this time you do land on your side. “Oh for fuck's sake!“ You sit yourself up with one hand as you see Mr. Bright fuming as he goes to pick up the football from its place by the fence. All the way he curses loud enough that you're tempted to swing at him if you weren't a bit impressed at how he can string words together. He stomps towards you, football in hand and you crawl back a bit as you think he might be tempted to throw the ball at you. He stops in front of you and shoves the football in front of your face, so close you can practically kiss it. “This is a ball! You know what you do with balls? CATCH THEM!“ he screams in your face, a bit of spit goes on your cheek and you try not to grimace. You stand up and wipe your cheek. Staring at him square in the face, you think of something to say. <hr>\ * [[“Suck my dick.”]] * [[“You're right.”]] * [[But you can't think of anything.]] </h3>

<h3>You sit next to Charley, Mrs. Bright across from you and Mr. Bright at the head of the table. There's no talk so the only sound in between chews is cutlerly scraping against the porcelain plates. The food tastes delicious. Since Sally has had to make a budge to what food the cook can by you haven't exactly been eating in luxury. This is the first meal you've tasted that doesn't remind you of the dollar store. Mr. Bright takes up his cup full of water and eyes you and Charley over the rim as he noisly gulps. You don't like that look. He hasn't said anything since you've all sat down together apart from giving thanks for the food to the Lord. An odd practice, at least you've never done that in your home, you didn't know people did that outside of movies. He sets his glass down with a pronounced thump and clears his throat before saying, “how long have you two been seeing each other?” You $habit as you try to come up with a good and plausible date. “Almost two months“ Charley answers. Mr. Bright's eyes narrow and he says with a hint of suspicion “how have you'v been dating that long if $name was at... where did you say they were in the summer?” “A wellness centre, dear.” “Yeah he was but we did long distance for a bit“ Charley quickly answers. You feel a sense of dread as what she's saying makes no sense when you consider where you said you two met if you two months ago you weren't in town to meet her. Why can't people leave the lying to you? Mr. Bright stares at you, blinking only once and you think that he's going to probably ask you why you're timeline sounds faker than snake oil. “You two don't act like it.” [[NEXT->SQ2-7*]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Bright's eyes go wide. “What did—“ “I said suck my dick, you bigoted piece of shit!“ you snarl and take the football from him. Waving it you throw it to the side and say “you think you're so macho because you can throw something that's shaped like a nut? I've seen drag queens more manly than you!“ Mr. Bright sputters “w-who the heck do you t-think y—“ You snort, “I don't think I'm anyone Mr. Bright. Just a regular person who doesn't need to be a hateful fuck to feel strong.” Mr. Bright's face begins to redden as his mouth gapes and his hands shake. He could very well deck you. Even so you wouldn't care. “Charley!“ you yell. The back door opens and Charley pops her blonde head out. She looks from you to her father and her eyebrows raise when she sees how angry Mr. Bright looks. “What's going on?” Charley asks. You place your hand on your hips and say “nothing. It's just that spending one afternoon with your father made me realize the hell you live in.” Mr. Bright gasps as the word 'hell' escapes your lips. You roll your eyes “it's a word get over yourself.” Mrs. Bright comes out behind her daughter and you laugh “ah just what we needed, the lobotomy wife.” Mrs. Bright bristles and crosses her arms. “Get out of my house“ Mr. Bright says, his whole face gone completely red, the shaking from hands gone up his arms. “I will but I just want to say one thing“ you reply and look at Charley who looks terrified. You give her a small smile and lower your voice, saying “you are never going to be good enough for them. It's not even worth it. Finish school and then disappear.” Charley looks like she's about to cry but manages to nod once. You clap her on the shoulder and push past Mr. Bright to go into the house. Mrs. Bright follows behind you, probably to make sure you leave. The minute you're out the door, she slams it behind you. Somehow, you feel like cold water was just splashed on your face after going through heat. You almost walk home with a skip to your step. You might've technically failed but you said what you wanted to and you have other clients and you still helped Charley in a way. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>“Of course I'm right“ Mr. Bright says as if you said the most stupidest thing. He walks a few paces ahead of you and gets into position again. “We're going to keep at it because I'm not going to have a pussy for a son-in-law.” You spend the next two hours, trying and failing to catch the ball, Mr. Bright curses more than he breathes and only in the final ten minutes do you catch the ball once. “Finally!“ You try to throw it back but it's a very poor attempt. The football bounces off Mr. Bright's stomach and lands in between you two. Mr. Bright looks from you to the football, from the football to you and back again about five more times. He sighs and goes to pick it up. You brace yourself for another throw and toss game, dreading how poorly you'll do when Charley leans their head out the back door. “Hey you two, dinner's ready“ she says. “Coming“ Mr. Bright says. He walks over to you and you hand him the football. He doesn't quite give you a smile but there is a certain levity in his small eyes. “You played well enough, you should practice more though“ he advises and goes to put the football away. You head inside. [[NEXT->SQ2-6*]] </h3>

<h3>Maybe you'd like to tell him where he can go shove his opinions and criticisms or admit that while he might be right he doesn't have to be so rude. Either way it doesn't matter because you just look at him. He must take this as assent because he nods to you. He walks a few paces ahead of you and gets into position again. “We're going to keep at it because I'm not going to have a pussy for a son-in-law.” You spend the next two hours, trying and failing to catch the ball, Mr. Bright curses more than he breathes and only in the final ten minutes do you catch the ball once. “Finally!“ You try to throw it back but it's a very poor attempt. The football bounces off Mr. Bright's stomach and lands in between you two. Mr. Bright looks from you to the football, from the football to you and back again about five more times. He sighs and goes to pick it up. You brace yourself for another throw and toss game, dreading how poorly you'll do when Charley leans their head out the back door. “Hey you two, dinner's ready“ she says. “Coming“ Mr. Bright says. He walks over to you and you hand him the football. He doesn't quite give you a smile but there is a certain levity in his small eyes. “You played well enough, you should practice more though“ he advises and goes to put the football away. You head inside. [[NEXT->SQ2-6*]] </h3>

<h3>You add all the ingredients into the skillet, grab the bottle of oil and douse the food, to finish it off you raise the temperature to as highest as it will go. You take a few steps backward and your knees bump into a chair. You sit down at the table and wait for it all to go to shit. You dump some of the salt onto the table and play around with it, making smiley faces as the noise of the television initially blocks out the increasing heat the cooking oil is poping off. You lose track of how long it takes but soon enough the oil is spitting around the stove and you get, you look think for a moment about turning it off and throwing the skillet into the sink. <<if $vice is not 'smoking'>>Characters are screaming on the TV. You look around the kitchen, opening drawers under the counter and moving aside condiments, spices and old utensils until you find a matchbox.<<elseif $vice is 'smoking'>>Characters are screaming on the TV. You search in your pockets for your lighter. You find it and grab a paper towel. Lighting one of the edges you watch as the paper is eaten by the fire.<</if>> <<if $vice is not 'smoking'>>You go over to the skillet, light a match and throw it in the skillet. You scramble back as a quick flame bursts upward. You let out a breath of air let sounds like a mix between a gasp and a chuckle.<<elseif $vice is 'smoking'>>You go over to the skillet and throw the paper towel in. You scramble back as a quick flame bursts upward. You let out a breath of air let sounds like a mix between a gasp and a chuckle.<</if>> You watch as the flames begin licking the ventilator of the stove. You watch mesmerized by the brilliance of the flame before you hear a shriek behind you. You look back to see Mrs. Bright standing there, her mouth open. She pushes past you and starts filling up a pot with water, “William!“ She carries the pot over to the fire and throws the water at it. It doesn't do much to calm the dancing fire. She cries and goes to the sink to refill it again. Mr. Bright runs into the kitchen, his face in a panic. His eyes widen at the fire and he takes off his jacket. He starts slamming it against the fire. You turn to see Charley pausing at the frame of the door, his face in disbelief. You go to him and he says “was this an accident?” “No.” Charley nods as if it's the most logical thing in the world. He lean closer to him and say, “I'm going to go now. But before I do I want you to listen.” Charley nods again, his eyes still on scene in front of you. “You are never going to be good enough for them. It's not even worth it. Finish school and then disappear“ you say gravely. Charley tears his eyes away from the commotion and maybe it's trick of the fire but his eyes look glassy. You don't wait for him to answer nor do you want to be here when they put the fire out so you leave the kitchen, walk to the front door and close it behind you. Somehow, you feel like cold water was just splashed on your face after being in the desert. You almost walk home with a skip to your step. You might've technically failed but you said what you wanted to and you have other clients and you still helped Charley in a way. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You and Charley exchange glances and you say, “what you expecting exactly?” Mr. Bright lays his meaty, hairy hand on Mrs. Bright's smaller, soft one and gives her what you think is a smile but with too much teeth to look loving. “For you two to not look like you're being forced to sit near each other“ he says. “Where's the darn affection? Kids these days,“ Mr. Bright shakes his head. You roll your lips and look at Charley who looks like he'd rather have the ground swallow him up. He gently nudges his hand closer to yours on the table but doesn't make the move to touch you. You turn to look at Mr. Bright, whose eyes are laser focused on you. You grind your teeth when you think at what you're expected to do. He wants you to be affecionate with Charley. To sell this romance better. <<if $masturbationImre >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of blue eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $masturbationNia >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of brown eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of gray eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of blue eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Nia >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of brown eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of gray eyes flash in your mind.<</if>> Well, whether you have experience or not Mr. Bright and his wife watch you as they eat, expectant. You... <hr>\ * [[You grab his hand.->SQ2-8]] * [[Nestle into him.]] * [[Kiss him.]] </h3>

<h3>You and Charley exchange glances and you say, “what you expecting exactly?” Mr. Bright lays his meaty, hairy hand on Mrs. Bright smaller, soft one and gives her what you think is a smile but with too teeth to look loving. “For you two to not look like you're being forced to sit near each other“ he says. “Where's the darn affection? Kids these days“ Mr. Bright shakes his head. You roll your lips and look at Charley who looks like she'd rather have the ground swallow him up. She gently nudges her hand closer to yours on the table but doesn't make the move to touch you. You turn to look at Mr. Bright, whose eyes are laser focused on you. You grind your teeth when you think at what you're expected to do. He wants you to be affecionate with Charley. To sell this romance better. <<if $masturbationImre >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of blue eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $masturbationNia >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of brown eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $masturbationLorcan >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of gray eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Imre >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of blue eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Nia >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of brown eyes flash in your mind.<<elseif $nonfap2Lorcan >>The thing is, you don't know what that is. You have never tried to be romantic with anyone this way, only recently did you even think of anyone in a way that wasn't the way you view everyone. A pair of gray eyes flash in your mind.<</if>> Well, whether you have experience or not Mr. Bright and his wife watch you as they eat, expectant. You... <hr>\ * [[You grab her hand.->SQ2-8*]] * [[Nestle into her.]] * [[Kiss her.]] </h3>

<h3> You press your thighs together as hard as you can and will your mind to think of other things, less... tantalizing things. <<set $nonfap2Lorcan to true>> You once read a book about the rugby players that crashed in the Andes in 1972. They were there for 72 days and went through all kinds of tribulations. Cold, thirst and hunger to the point where they ate their dead friends to survive. You think a movie was released last year about that. Of course it makes no sense to cast Americans as Latinos and have the entire dialogue of the movie in English because then you lose the cultural context and richness. You become so focused on culture erasure that you manage to successfully forget what you were thinking about and you relax your thighs as the heat in between your legs cools down into its natural state. You hum as you return to the familiarity of your body and think about learning Spanish. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214*]] </h3>

<h3> You press your thighs together as hard as you can and will your mind to think of other things, less... tantalizing things. <<set $nonfap2Nia to true>> You once read a book about the rugby players that crashed in the Andes in 1972. They were there for 72 days and went through all kinds of tribulations. Cold, thirst and hunger to the point where they ate their dead friends to survive. You think a movie was released last year about that. Of course it makes no sense to cast Americans as Latinos and have the entire dialogue of the movie in English because then you lose the cultural context and richness. You become so focused on culture erasure that you manage to successfully forget what you were thinking about and you relax your thighs as the heat in between your legs cools down into its natural state. You hum as you return to the familiarity of your body and think about learning Spanish. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 214*]] </h3>

<h3>You tentively enroach upon his hand. It's a stiff movement, devoid of desire and somehow awkward in its execution. Still you do it and curl your fingers in between his. Charley and you each give one another a frozen smile and turn towards his parents. The unpleasant look on Mr. Bright's face remains but there is less scepticism in it. These people are nosey. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your girlfriend home, boy. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses his mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your girlfriend.” Charley looks from you to his father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and he complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9]] </h3>

<h3>You lean your head against his shoulder, the feeling of his bones press against your cheek. His smell is that of clean soap and cologne, a bit too much you'd say. It's a stiff movement, devoid of desire and awkward in its execution. Your head doesn't feel like it belongs there and Charley isn't helping with how rigid his body is. Charley and you each give one another a frozen smile and turn towards his parents. The unpleasant look on Mr. Bright's face remains but there is less scepticism in it. These people are strange. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your girlfriend home, boy. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses his mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your girlfriend.” Charley looks from you to his father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and he complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurrping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9]] </h3>

<h3>It just pops into your head, it lives there as a thought for a split second before you lean over and press your lips to his. Your mouth doesn't open nor does his. Like two slabs meat laid atop each other. Cold, unfeeling and no spark. His lips feel like chapped skin, they taste slightly like the food you just had and he's breathing too much. It lasts maybe three seconds before you pull away. <<set $firstkissSQ to true>> Charley blushes and looks down at his plate, you don't feel any different. You have never kissed anyone and maybe you had thought you would feel a certain way but you feel the same as you did a moment ago. It wasn't horrible, you've seen movies where it looks incredibly unpleasant so as first kisses go, it could've been worse. You decide that kissing is overrated. Mr. Bright looks less suspicious than he did but you wouldn't say the expression on his face is content.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> These people are incredibly weird. The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your girlfriend home, boy. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses his mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your girlfriend.” Charley looks from you to his father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and he complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9]] </h3>

<h3>You tentively enroach upon her hand. It's a stiff movement, devoid of desire and somehow awkward in its execution. Still you do it and curl your fingers in between hers. Charley and you each give one another a frozen smile and turn towards his parents. The unpleasant look on Mr. Bright's face remains but there is less scepticism in it. These people are nosey. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your boyfriend home, girl. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses her mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your boyfriend.” Charley looks from you to his father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and she complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurrping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9*]] </h3>

<h3>You lean your head against her shoulder, the feeling of her bones press against your cheek. Her smell is that of clean soap and candy perfume, a bit too much you'd say. It's a stiff movement, devoid of desire and awkward in its execution. Your head doesn't feel like it belongs there and Charley isn't helping with how rigid her body is. Charley and you each give one another a frozen smile and turn towards her parents. The unpleasant look on Mr. Bright's face remains but there is less scepticism in it. These people are strange. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your boyfriend home, girl. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses her mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your boyfriend.” Charley looks from you to her father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and she complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurrping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9*]] </h3>

<h3>It just pops into your head, it lives there as a thought for a split second before you lean over and press your lips to hers. Your mouth doesn't open nor does hers. Like two slabs meat laid atop each other. Cold, unfeeling and no spark. Her lips feel like soft skin, they taste slightly like the food you just had and she's breathing too much. It lasts maybe three seconds before you pull away. <<set $firstkissSQ to true>> Charley blushes and looks down at her plate, you don't feel any different. You have never kissed anyone and maybe you had thought you would feel a certain way but you feel the same as you did a moment ago. It wasn't horrible, you've seen movies where it looks incredibly unpleasant so as first kisses go, it could've been worse. You decide that kissing is overrated. Mr. Bright looks less suspicious than he did but you wouldn't say the expression on his face is content.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> These people are incredibly weird. The rest of the dinner goes by as smoothly as it can, before long the plates are cleared and the lights are heightened. From the windows you can see how dark its gotten. You yawn and say, “well it has been a pleasure but it is very late and my family is expecting me home at a reasonable hour.” Mr. Bright takes a sip of water and reaches into the pocket of his trousers. He takes out a set of keys and throws it to Charley. “Take your boyfriend home, girl. And I expect you to come right back, no detours of the kind you like to make“ he states. Charley presses her mouth closed and motions a 'let's go' action to you. You get up and push your chair in, already forming the fake words of praise you'll say to the Brights about the hours you spent here. “Charley go wait by the car, I have a few words to say to your boyfriend.” Charley looks from you to her father, Mr. Bright makes a 'shooing' motion and she complies. Mrs. Bright gets up and goes up the stairs to the second level. You stand by your chair, uncomfortably in silence with a slurrping Mr. Bright. The seconds on a clock somewhere tick loudly. In a way you try to brace yourself for another test as you hear Mrs. Bright click-clack her way down the stairs. [[NEXT->SQ2-9*]] </h3>

<h3>She hands her husband a small silver key and sits down beside him to sip at her wine. Mr. Bright holds up the key and asks, “do you know what this is for?” You shake your head. “This is the key to my safe, in my office upstairs. The safe not only has important documents but also money, it is the money I've put away for Charley“ he explains. You knit your eyebrows together, what does that have to do with you? Mr. Bright slides the key over to you, and jerks his head to it. You pick it up and flip it front and back. You smile in consternation, “why are you giving me this?” Mrs. Bright tilts her head, letting the red wine slide down her throat. She swallows deeply and gasps, grabbing the open bottle on the table and pouring herself another one. Mr. Bright shoots a glare at her and replies, “Charley is irresponsible. For a long time I thought he was a pansy, you are proof he isn't but I still think he's weak and immature. You seem more serious and a future wife should keep order. You'll keep order when the time comes.” You don't know how to respond to that. The key feels cold and heavy in your hands. You wonder about Mr. Bright's judgement if he gives the responsibility to you. You don't even know how to handle money. Perhaps in his twisted world view he believes even a potential murderous freak is better than a gay son. You close your fingers over the key and smile, “you bet.” You exchange empty goodbyes and leave Mrs. Bright to down her second full glass and Mr. Bright seething as he watches. Charley waits inside the car and you slide in the passenger seat, no sooner you put on your seatbelt, he pulls out. [[NEXT->SQ2-10]] </h3>

<h3>She hands her husband a small silver key and sits down beside him to sip at her wine. Mr. Bright holds up the key and asks, “do you know what this is for?” You shake your head. “This is the key to my safe, in my office upstairs. The safe not only has important documents but also money, it is the money I've put away for Charley“ he explains. You knit your eyebrows together, what does that have to do with you? Mr. Bright slides the key over to you, and jerks his head to it. You pick it up and flip it front and back. You smile in consternation, “why are you giving me this?” Mrs. Bright tilts her head, letting the red wine slide down her throat. She swallows deeply and gasps, grabbing the open bottle on the table and pouring herself another one. Mr. Bright shoots a glare at her and replies, “Charley is irresponsible. For a long time I thought she was a dyke, you are proof she isn't but I still think she's weak and immature. You seem more serious and a future husband should always take care of the finances. You'll keep good handle of it.” You don't know how to respond to that. The key feels cold and heavy in your hands. You wonder about Mr. Bright's judgement if he gives the responsibility to you. You don't even know how to handle money. Perhaps in his twisted world view he believes even a potential murderous freak is better than a gay daughter. You close your fingers over the key and smile, “you bet.” You exchange empty goodbyes and leave Mrs. Bright to down her second full glass and Mr. Bright seething as he watches. Charley waits inside the car and you slide in the passenger seat, no sooner you put on your seatbelt, she pulls out. [[NEXT->SQ2-10]] </h3>

<h3>Charley turns down the radioand looks at you, “so... what did the old man want?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You show him the key and he slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You show him the key and he slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You show her the key and she slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You show her the key and she slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You show him the key and he slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You show her the key and she slams the brakes, you're pulled forward, the seat belt digging into your chest.<</if>> “Shit,” you curse, pulling yourself back and rubbing your neck. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ he yells in glee and holds out his hand. You hand it to him. He stares at it in his palm and his face is one of wonderful disbelief.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ he yells in glee and holds out his hand. You hand it to him. He stares at it in his palm and his face is one of wonderful disbelief.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ she yells in glee and holds out her hand. You hand it to her. She stares at it in her palm and her face is one of wonderful disbelief.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ she yells in glee and holds out her hand. You hand it to her. She stares at it in her palm and her face is one of wonderful disbelief.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ he yells in glee and holds out his hand. You hand it to him. He stares at it in his palm and his face is one of wonderful disbelief.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Sorry! It's just FUCK! You don't how amazing this fucking is!“ she yells in glee and holds out her hand. You hand it to her. She stares at it in her palm and her face is one of wonderful disbelief.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>A car honks behind him and he shoves the key into his pocket, he presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what his plan has been.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>A car honks behind him and he shows the key into his pocket, he presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what his plan has been.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>A car honks behind her and she shows the key into her pocket, she presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what her plan has been.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>A car honks behind her and she shows the key into her pocket, she presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what her plan has been.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>A car honks behind him and he shoves the key into his pocket, he presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what his plan has been.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>A car honks behind her and she shows the key into her pocket, she presses the gas and as the car accelerates through town Charley tells you what her plan has been.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your boyfriend?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your boyfriend?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your girlfriend?”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your girlfriend?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your boyfriend?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You rub a spot on your forehead, “so you're going to steal all the money from the safe and skip town with your girlfriend?”<</if>> Charley nods, “I don't have a pot to piss in so I've been trying to break into that safe for like a year. I had hoped pops would give me the key tonight and was worried when he sent me out but that doesn't matter now because I got it.” Charley turns down one of those streets around the centre of town and drives past rows of identical houses until you get to a cul-de-sac. The car stops in front of a house that has all the lights dark except for one on the upper floor. [[NEXT->SQ2-11]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch him walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a boy with dyed red hair and a series of piercings on his ears. He smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. He closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once he's back inside he meets your questioning gaze. “That's Tommy, he's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a pussy to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Tommy slowly slides through, his skinny frame making it easy. He runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ he says to Charley. Charley backs up and Tommy turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy his ears are. You shake his outstretched hand and reply to his greeting. Once you let go he says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a girlfriend.” Tommy shakes his head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give him a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully he won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Tommy taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” He smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch him walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a boy with dyed red hair and a series of piercings on his ears. He smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. He closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once he's back inside he meets your questioning gaze. “That's Tommy, he's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a pussy to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Tommy slowly slides through, his skinny frame making it easy. He runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ he says to Charley. Charley backs up and Tommy turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy his ears are. You shake his outstretched hand and reply to his greeting. Once you let go he says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a girlfriend.” Tommy shakes his head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give him a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully he won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Tommy taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” He smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch her walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a girl with dyed green hair and a series of piercings on her face. She smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. She closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once she's back inside she meets your questioning gaze. “That's Marissa, she's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a little bitch to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Marissa slowly slides through, her skinny frame making it easy. She runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ she says to Charley. Charley backs up and Marissa turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy her ears are. You shake her outstretched hand and reply to her greeting. Once you let go she says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a boyfriend.” Marissa shakes her head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give her a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully she won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Marissa taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” She smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch her walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a girl with dyed green hair and a series of piercings on her face. She smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. She closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once she's back inside she meets your questioning gaze. “That's Marissa, she's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a little bitch to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Marissa slowly slides through, her skinny frame making it easy. She runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ she says to Charley. Charley backs up and Marissa turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy her ears are. You shake her outstretched hand and reply to her greeting. Once you let go she says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a boyfriend.” Marissa shakes her head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give her a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully she won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Marissa taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” She smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch him walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a boy with dyed red hair and a series of piercings on his ears. He smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. He closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once he's back inside he meets your questioning gaze. “That's Tommy, he's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a pussy to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Tommy slowly slides through, his skinny frame making it easy. He runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ he says to Charley. Charley backs up and Tommy turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy his ears are. You shake his outstretched hand and reply to his greeting. Once you let go he says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a partner.” Tommy shakes his head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give him a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully he won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Tommy taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” He smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Wait here“ Charley says and opens the door. You watch her walk under the window of the lit room, pick up a stone and hurl it at the glass. Immediately a figure appears by the window and you lean forward to see. They push the window up and lean over the ledge, looking down at Charley. It's a girl with dyed green hair and a series of piercings on her face. She smiles down at Charley and lifts one finger. She closes the window and Charley walks back to the car, smiling. Once she's back inside she meets your questioning gaze. “That's Marissa, she's coming with me.” “Are you telling me you plan on leaving tonight?” you ask. Charley nods, “of course. Better now than later when I become too much of a little bitch to do it.” You just shake your head in disbelief. The front door opens slowly and Marissa slowly slides through, her skinny frame making it easy. She runs to the car, throws in a duffel bag and slides into the back seat. “Let's go“ she says to Charley. Charley backs up and Marissa turns to you, “hey.” You notice how exceptionally pointy her ears are. You shake her outstretched hand and reply to her greeting. Once you let go she says, “so you're the badass that got gave us our freedom?” You chuckle, “I don't know if I would call myself a badass, I just acted rather poorly as a partner.” Marissa shakes her head, “nah, you're a badass. Not many people would help like you did. I've heard of ya but I didn't think I'd ever meet you.” You give her a quick smile, and turn forward, hopefully she won't start in on the usual questions you get from people who are //so// interested in you as if you were a morbid curiosity. Marissa taps on your shoulder and clench your jaw as you slightly turn your head, “yeah?” She smiles at you and asks, “if you were us, and you got a shitload of money, where would you go?” <</if>> [[NEXT->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like he's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Tommy and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like he's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Tommy and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like she's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Marissa and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like she's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Marissa and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like he's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Tommy and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Charley glances at you quickly before looking back at the road, it seems like she's interested in your answer too. You press you lips closed tightly and lay your head on the headrest. You look at the lit road in front of the car and you feel your eyebrows furrow. You have actually never thought of that before. You have never given thought to where in the world you would go if you could. You kind of always assumed you'd live in the manor, you didn't visualize it as something that would happen forever but if you had no other plans what else would it be? That are forever in the asylum. You turn back to Marissa and answer, “I would go to...” <hr>\ * [[options in North America.]] * [[options in Central America.]] * [[options in South America.]] * [[options in Europe.]] * [[options in Africa.]] * [[options in Asia.]] * [[options in Oceania.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>''Central America'': one of the most popular songs of the year was Selena's 'Amor Prohibido,' the city of San Jose has a population of 315, 909 and Panama's national bird is the Harpy Eagle. <hr>\ * [[El Salvador.]] * [[Panama.]] * [[Costa Rica.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''South America'': Maluma is born in January, conscription is outlawed in Argentina and Brazil wins the FIFA World Cup. <hr>\ * [[Colombia.]] * [[Argentina.]] * [[Brazil.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''Europe'': Four Weddings and a Funeral was one of the most popular movies in England, a number one song in Italy was 'The Rhythm of the Night,' and a fireball is apparently seen in the sky in Cando, Spain. //Note: The author is aware that England is no longer part of the European Union, alas it is 1994.// <hr>\ * [[England.]] * [[Italy.]] * [[Spain.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''Africa'': the national dish of Morocco is couscous, a female skeleton that is 4.4 million years old called Ardi is found in Ethiopia, Nelson Mandela is elected president of South Africa. <hr>\ * [[Morocco.]] * [[Ethiopia.]] * [[South Africa.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''Asia'': the highest grossing film in India is Hum Aapke Hain Koun, Thailand is the world's fastest growing economy, the number one song in Japan is 'Innocent World.' <hr>\ * [[India.]] * [[Thailand.]] * [[Japan.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''Oceania'': Forrest Gump was the biggest movie of the year in Australia, 'Love is All Around' was the biggest hit in New Zealand and Fiji's national flower is the tagimoucia. <hr>\ * [[Australia.]] * [[New Zealand.]] * [[Fiji.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3>''North America'': biggest movie in 1994 is The Lion King, the number one song in Mexico is 'El Rock No Tiene La Culpa,' one of the biggest stories is the death of American rock star Kurt Cobain. <hr>\ * [[Canada.]] * [[USA.]] * [[Mexico.]] * [[See other options.->SQ2-12]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Canada.” Tommy grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Canada.” Tommy grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Canada.” Marissa grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Canada.” Marissa grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Canada.” Tommy grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Canada.” Marissa grins, saying, “Moose and beaver tails?” You nod, “yeah, Canada sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Lake Erie on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Tommy grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Tommy grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Marissa grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Marissa grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Tommy grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Mexico.” Marissa grins, saying, “tacos and rancheras?” You nod, “yeah, Mexico sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Chichen Itza on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Tommy grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Tommy grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Marissa grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Marissa grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Tommy grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...El Salvador.” Marissa grins, saying, “pupusas and motmots?” You nod, “yeah, El Salvador sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Divino Salvador del Mundo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Panama.” Tommy grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Panama.” Tommy grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Panama.” Marissa grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Panama.” Marissa grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Panama.” Tommy grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Panama.” Marissa grins, saying, “ropa viejas and canals?” You nod, “yeah, Panama sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Panama Viejo on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Costa Rica.” Tommy grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “... Costa Rica.” Tommy grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “... Costa Rica.” Marissa grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “... Costa Rica.” Marissa grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “... Costa Rica.” Tommy grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “... Costa Rica.” Marissa grins, saying, “gallo pinto and volcanoes?” You nod, “yeah, Costa Rica sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Cocos island on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Tommy grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Tommy grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Marissa grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Marissa grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Tommy grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Marissa grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Tommy grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Tommy grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Tommy grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Marissa grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Marissa grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Marissa grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Tommy grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Argentina.” Marissa grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Argentina sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Teatro Colon on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Tommy grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Tommy grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Marissa grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Marissa grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Tommy grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Brazil.” Marissa grins, saying, “feijoadas and carnival?” You nod, “yeah, Brazil sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Christ the Redeemer on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...England.” Tommy grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...England.” Tommy grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...England.” Marissa grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...England.” Marissa grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...England.” Tommy grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...England.” Marissa grins, saying, “tea and queens?” You nod, “yeah, England sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Big Ben on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Italy.” Tommy grins, saying, “gelato and siestas?” You nod, “yeah, Italy sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Colosseum on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Colombia.” Tommy grins, saying, “arepas and condors?” You nod, “yeah, Colombia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Plaza Bolivar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Italy.” Marissa grins, saying, “gelato and siestas?” You nod, “yeah, Italy sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Colosseum on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Italy.” Marissa grins, saying, “gelato and siestas?” You nod, “yeah, Italy sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Colosseum on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Italy.” Tommy grins, saying, “gelato and siestas?” You nod, “yeah, Italy sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Colosseum on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Italy.” Marissa grins, saying, “gelato and siestas?” You nod, “yeah, Italy sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Colosseum on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Spain.” Tommy grins, saying, “paella and bulls?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Spain.” Tommy grins, saying, “maté and che’s?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Spain.” Marissa grins, saying, “paella and bulls?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Spain.” Marissa grins, saying, “paella and bulls?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Spain.” Tommy grins, saying, “paella and bulls?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Spain.” Marissa grins, saying, “paella and bulls?” You nod, “yeah, Spain sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Rock of Gibraltar on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Tommy grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Tommy grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Marissa grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Marissa grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Tommy grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Morocco.” Marissa grins, saying, “Casablanca and lions?” You nod, “yeah, Morocco sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Bahia palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Tommy grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Tommy grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Marissa grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Marissa grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Tommy grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Ethiopia.” Marissa grins, saying, “tibs and calla lilies?” You nod, “yeah, Ethiopia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Fasil Ghebbi on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Tommy grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, South Africa sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Tommy grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Marissa grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, South Africa sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Marissa grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, South Africa sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Tommy grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, South Africa sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...South Africa.” Marissa grins, saying, “bobotie and cricket?” You nod, “yeah, South Africa sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Kruger Park on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...India.” Tommy grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...India.” Tommy grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...India.” Marissa grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...India.” Marissa grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...India.” Tommy grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...India.” Marissa grins, saying, “samosas and musicals?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with The Golden Temple on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Japan.” Tommy grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Japan.” Tommy grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Japan.” Marissa grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Japan.” Marissa grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Japan.” Tommy grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Japan.” Marissa grins, saying, “udon and anime?” You nod, “yeah, Japan sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Tokyo tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Tommy grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Tommy grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Marissa grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Marissa grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Tommy grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Thailand.” Marissa grins, saying, “pad thai and elephants?” You nod, “yeah, Thailand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the grand palace on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Australia.” Tommy grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Australia.” Tommy grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Australia.” Marissa grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Australia.” Marissa grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Australia.” Tommy grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Australia.” Marissa grins, saying, “vegemite and huge spiders?” You nod, “yeah, Australia sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the Sydney Opera on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Tommy grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Tommy grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Marissa grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Marissa grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Tommy grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...New Zealand.” Marissa grins, saying, “fish and chips and kiwis?” You nod, “yeah, New Zealand sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sky tower on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Tommy grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, Fiji sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Tommy grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, Fiji sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Marissa grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, Fiji sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Marissa grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, India sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Tommy grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, Fiji sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...Fiji.” Marissa grins, saying, “kokoda and iguanas?” You nod, “yeah, Fiji sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your mother might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with Sri Siva Subramaniya on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “...the US.” Tommy grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “...the US.” Tommy grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a girl, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “...the US.” Marissa grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “...the US.” Marissa grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you. You put your hand on the handle and look back at Charley. “Thank you for letting me be... a boy, today.” Charley smiles sadly and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “...the US.” Tommy grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ he says. You ignore how his eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Tommy smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Tommy has moved to front and you watch as he and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs his hands through Tommy's fiery hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&T.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “...the US.” Marissa grins, saying, “bald eagles and burgers?” You nod, “yeah, the US sounds like a great place to go.” You turn back in your seat and whisper to no one, “yeah, that's where I'd go.” You don't know if it's true but you think your father might've once told you that your family had ancestry there. Charley drives you home, you check your watch and realize it's a bit late. Oh well, Sally doesn't stay mad for long when you make him worry. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, a hand grabs your arm and Charley instantly pulls it back. “Sorry, I just... thank you, like really thank you. I don't think I'll ever forget it“ she says. You ignore how her eyes begin to glisten. You just nod and say, “don't worry about it.” Marissa smiles at you and you leave before they both keep going. It makes you feel odd. Reaching the front door, you place a hand on the handle and look over your shoulder at the car. Marissa has moved to front and you watch as she and Charley kiss. Their mouths slide against each other, Charley runs her hands through Marissa's emerald hair. You turn away and go inside. You don't know if Charley actually managed to take the money but a few weeks later you do get a postcard with the statue of Liberty on it. Turning it over you see a hastily scribbled: //We took your suggestion. Thanks for making this possible. Love, C&M.// Mr. Bright did once come to your house to demand you tell him where his kid went and where his money is but he backed off when Sally threatened to call the cops. You tacked the postcard on your wall over your bed. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Stanley Walsh tells you that an old lady took his daughter and that to get her back he needs to 'wow' her with an epic speech. “An old woman?” you ask. He nods, wiping his nose, “she lives in the woods, she takes kids who wander in there and my Delilah likes to explore, I always told her to not go far—“ his voice breaks. You raise your to pat his back but your hand freezes, hovering awkwardly over his coat and you lower it. You need more practice with consolation. “We need to know who or what this woman is,” you say. You turn in your seat and look over at the library. “I'll be back.” <<if $pathtwo>>\ You remember the last time you were here, Tina and her damn speaking stuffed animals. <<if $hobby is 'book'>>Before that you hadn't been here in years, even though for a huge reader like you this place should be home. <<elseif $hobby is not 'book'>>Before that you hadn't been here in years, you don't really like reading all that much.<</if>> You walk in and see Miss Norris at her usual place by the front desk. You walk up to her say, “hello, Miss Norris, nice seeing you again.” Miss Norris doesn't look up from the notebook she's writing in. Her cursive is impressive and beautiful, which means illegible like a doctor's. “I was here with Tina like a little over a week ago,” you state. Miss Norris flips a page over and continues her writing there. “Yes, I remember you. $name Crown of the Crown clan. Descendant of Josiah Croun. The last book you checked out was The Three Muskeeters in 1988 and you were overdue by a day,” she says without ever once stopping to look up. “Right,” you drawl. Her scribbling sounds like scratching. You look around to see the library deserted, no one ever comes here. Mostly because they don't like Miss Norris. “Something you need?” You try to think of a way to say this without getting into trouble. Reading material about the occult is illegal. You don't know why but you prefer not to ask so as to not getting visited by a policeman. Hopefully ''luck'' is on your side. <hr>\ * [[You be honest.->Be honest check]] * [[You threaten her.->Threaten check]] * [[Pull on her heartstrings.->Heartstrings check]] <<elseif not $pathtwo>>\ <<if $hobby is 'book'>>You can't remember the last time you were here, most likely years ago. As a huge reader you prefer the solitary space of your room.<<elseif $hobby is not 'book'>>You can't remember the last time you were here, most likely years ago. You're not much of a reader and when you do read you like to do it in your room.<</if>> You walk in and see Miss Norris at her usual place by the front desk. You walk up to her say, “hello, Miss Norris.” Miss Norris doesn't look up from the notebook she's writing in. Her cursive is impressive and beautiful, which means illegible like a doctor's. “I hope this isn't a bad time but I need some help. You do remember me?” you inquire. Miss Norris flips a page over and continues her writing there. “Yes, I remember you. $name Crown of the Crown clan. Descendant of Josiah Croun. The last book you checked out was The Three Muskeeters in 1988 and you were overdue by a day,” she says without ever once stopping to look up. “Right,” you drawl. Her scribbling sounds like scratching. You look around to see the library deserted, no one ever comes here. Mostly because they don't like Miss Norris. “Something you need?” You try to think of a way to say this without getting into trouble. Reading material about the occult is illegal. You don't know why but you prefer not to ask so as to not getting visited by a policeman. Hopefully ''luck'' is on your side. <hr>\ * [[You be honest.->Be honest check]] * [[You threaten her.->Threaten check]] * [[Pull on her heartstrings.->Heartstrings check]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You bite your lip before taking the plunge, “I need a book on supernatural creatures that steal children.” There's a slight pause to Miss Norris' writing but she quickly recovers. “Why are you asking for that kind of material?” “I'm helping someone in a mess they have with someone they care for. I need to be able to know what it is that's causing him so much trouble because if things go south I might need to find a way to fight it,” you reply, the words are hard to verbalize. “And why would I just give you a book that you shouldn't have by law?” she asks, her thin eyebrow raised. You shrug, “because you're the librarian and books shouldn't be banned?” Miss Norris got a pensive look on her face. She gets up and walks deeper into the library without a word. Which could mean anything. A few minutes pass before you see come out from between the shadowed book cases. You look down at her feet to see she's wearing heels, against the hardwood floors she makes no noise. She sits at her desk again and says in a monotone voice, “I'll get you the book, we just have to wait a moment.” You nod and to not stand there doing nothing you go and sit by one of the tables. A cart returned books stands nearby and you pick one up randomly. You flip through it without seeing the words. The front door of the library opens but you don't look up to see. You think it's probably a book lover until you get a tap on your shoulder. You close the book and look up to see a uniformed police officer staring down at you. “$name Crown?” You set the book on the table and reply, “yes?” The policeman smiles oddly, “please come with me.” There's a finality to his voice that tells you there's no point in arguing and if that isn't enough he positioned himself in a way where you take notice of his gun. You slowly get up, the offer puts a hand on your shoulder and coaxes you forward. Miss Norris doesn't even look at you as you're escorted out, she's writing once again. Outside the library a black tinted car awaits. Not a usual police car. You're directed to the back seat and the doors are immediately locked after the officer gets in. There's another officer in the back seat with you, he smiles. Several hours later you walk through your front door with a limp, a bump on your head and a ringing in your ears that has just started to die down. You're far too much in pain and tired to care much about what happens with Stanley and his daughter. Once your head hits the pillow you fall into a deep sleep. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3><<if not $nobook>>\ You go and sit right where you were, Stanley is still hunched over his speech, erasing and rewriting. His eyes are puffy and pink but it looks like his crying has calmed down. He looks at the small blue book in your hand, “what's that?” You hold it up and flip forward and backward, unremarkable. “It's a book about supernaturals.” Stanley's eyes widen and he looks at the book as if it were to bite him, “a sinful book.” You don't answer him. It's a typical belief in town that anything having to do with the pursuit of knowledge in the occult or mere enjoyment in that subject matter is demonic. They could be right. But it doesn't escape your notice how beneficial it is for those in power such as the mayor to have the populace believe this. “In case things go south, either the speech just won't be good or the creature who took your kid decides to not let them go, we need a backup plan. We need to know what to do to injure it,” you explain. “Should we divide the work up?” Stanley suggests. You look at the tear-stained crumpled pages which due to rewrites is more gray than white, then to the old, withered book that makes you feel like you have a ticking time bomb in your hands. At least no one can tell by passing glance or first glance what it is. “Yeah, sure,” you monotone. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Lady's first,” he says sheepishly. You almost roll your eyes. You're the more brave it seems.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Younger men are the future,” he says sheepishly. You almost roll your eyes. You're the more brave it seems.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Monster research.]] * [[Speech work.]] <<elseif $nobook >> You go and sit right where you were, Stanley is still hunched over his speech, erasing and rewriting. His eyes are puffy and pink but it looks like his crying has calmed down. He looks at your empty hands and says, “I thought you went to the library.” You exhale deeply and reply, “I did. I couldn't get what I wanted so we're going to have to go into this blind.” “You wanted to get an occult right? A sinful thing,” he says. You don't answer him. It's a typical belief in town that anything having to do with the pursuit of knowledge in the occult or mere enjoyment in that subject matter is demonic. They could be right. But it doesn't escape your notice how beneficial it is for those in power such as the mayor to have the populace believe this. “In case things go south, either the speech just won't be good or the creature who took your kid decides to not let them go, we need a backup plan. We need to know what to do to injury it,” you explain. “So without a book on that what are we going to do?” You shrug and answer monotonously, “let's make that speech the best goddamn speech in the world.” You look at the tear-stained crumpled pages which due to rewrites is more gray than white. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I think it needs a feminine eye,” he says and hands over the papers to you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“A younger man in school will probably do a better job,” he says and hands over the papers to you.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Speech work.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You clear your throat and try your best to school your facial expression into something that could resemble pity. “I need a book, an illegal book. About things that take little kids. It's not for me, it's for a man who is trying to get his daughter back.” Miss Norris looks up for a second before returning her eyes to the elegant scribbles she's making on her lined notebook, “if someone's daughter is missing should that person not go to the police?” “We know they don't do anything unless it's like a massive code red,” you say. Miss Norris hums in agreement but makes no move to actually help you. You try to think of different combinations that could possibly gain her sympathy. Human emotions are strange. “Please, this man is desperate, a kid shouldn't be forever separated from their parents just because a malevolent creature decided to pick on someone weaker than them,” you plead. Miss Norris gives you a curious look, one you can't tell if it's bad or good, “you would risk being caught with contraband in order to help this man and his daughter?” You nod, “yeah. Yeah I guess I would.” You don't tell her that you actually hadn't really thought of the consequneces that thoroughly. She gets up from her seat, that curious look towards you still on her face. You watch her disappear between the shadows of the bookcases. It doesn't take long for her to come back into view, she carries a small indistinguisable book in her hands. She hands it to you without fanfare and slides into her chair, “before you go out to be a saviour, we have to follow protocol. Let's renew your library card.” [[NEXT->SQ3-2]] </h3>

<h3>You place both your hands on the table and clasp them, a cold glint in your eyes. “I need you to get your raggedy ass up on get me a book, a forbidden book.” Miss Norris gives you an impassive look, her hand still writing in impeccable precision. “You come into my library with that disgusting and entitled attitude? Is that really the way you'd think I'd help you?” she asks rhetorically. You feel your mouth stretch into a grim and answer, “yes I do think that's how you'll help me because for one this isn't //your// library, it's the towns and from what I recall my family founded this town. And two, my brother has connections, I could shut this whole place down and then where would you go?” She continues to stare at you, her eyebrows lowering a fraction. “That's right, you'd go nowhere. Actually no, you'd go live with your granny outfits under the jungle gym at the park,” you add, a ping of satisfaction in your chest as you see her eye twitch. She sets down her pen and asks, “what would you like?” “That's more like it. I want a book on supernatural creatures that take kids, and hurry up I haven't got all day,” you reply. Miss Norris gets up and walks out from under her desk, passing the empty desks and going into the dark spaces between the book cases. Feeling rather proud about how good it feels to get someone to do your bidding you lean against the front desk and wait. Minutes pass and you $habit out of boredom. You see Miss Norris come out from in between the book cases. You're about to say something when you see the revolver in her hand. You only take one step before aims and shoots you in the leg. You fall to the floor and clutch at your wound. You look up to see her step closer and before you can either plead or curse her out she lifts the gun and points it your head. “You really should be nicer to librarians,” she advises before pulling the trigger. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] </h3>

<h3>You open the book search down the table of contents, which is extensive. Turns out there are many types of supernatural beings that take children. There are ones that come out of water, ones that swoop down from the skies and others that come up from the Earth. “What did this lady look like?” you ask. <<set $monsterwork to true>> Stanley aggressively erases an entire line as he answers, “she had long messy hair, old torn-up clothes and wore no shoes.” You give a look he doesn't see. That description is so general that it could be any female monster used to scare kids into behaving. She might not even be old, maybe just premature gray hairs. Or a personal aesthetic. You don't know much about monsters to know if they care about their looks. It could also be stress, it's hard to be a monster everyone is scared of, sometimes they probably just want to be left alone. You $habit. You narrow it down to three options: __La LLorona__, a creature of Latin American origin who either killed her children because her husband was leaving her or to appease her lover. It says she drowned them and wonders near bodies of water calling out for children to take. __Baba Yaga__, comes from Russian folklore. An old woman who travels atop a mortar with pestle included and eats kids, not before frying them of course. Contradicting tales say she is either a friend or a foe. __Black Annis__, a blue-skinned witch from English origins who is said to have iron claws and tans the skin of children to wear like accessories around her waist. Apparently you get a warning she's coming from her teeth grinding. You cup your chin. //Note: some of these choices have a likelier chance for succes than others.// <hr>\ * [[Pick La Llorona.->llorona check]] * [[Pick Baba Yaga.->baba check]] * [[Pick Black Annis.->annis check]] </h3>

<h3>You flatten out his pages of lined paper, stained by tears and gone gray in certain areas due to heavy erasing and rewriting and erasing and rewriting again. At least he used pencil and not pen. He hasn't done much, three pieces of paper and only three short paragraphs.<<set $speechwork to true>> “So she told you that you needed to impress her with a speech?” you ask. Stanley nods. “A good speech she said, one that will make her feel something.” You nod and $habit. That is as vague as could be. What do monsters feel? What if you made her angry? Would she still give Stanley his daughter back? Something tells you that no. Okay, good emotions, happy and slightly not happy but not rage. Is boredom an emotion? You shake your head, you could spend hours thinking about this. You decide that any of these three emotions is your best bet: __Something funny__, try to make her laugh. A bit challenging as you've never been one to be funny on purpose. You're not even sure you're funny on accident either. Maybe to a supernatural, you don't need to be Billy Crystal. __Something flattering__, to be an ass-kisser is rather simple. Flattery isn't an emotion but it does illict happy feelings, does it not? A terrible creature might enjoy feeling how scary they are to you, or how their ugliness is a virtue. __Something sad__, now this goes into the category of //is it a safe emotion?// Kind of like how anger would likely get the kid killed, making the creature cry could get you the same result. Or it could make her compassionate enough to let her go. You chew the eraser of the pencil. <hr>\ * [[A funny speech.->Funny check]] * [[A flattering speech.->Flattery check]] * [[A sad speech.->Sad check]] </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right. <<set $llorona to true>> You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly the book warns you against going near bodies of water and stay indoors at night if you hear her cries. The exact opposite of what you're going to do. Apparently it's good to carry around religious symbols. Rosaries, crosses and holy water. Here it gives you instructions on how to make your own holy water but you are missing any necklaces or even a picture of Jesus to help you. That would require going to the Church. Another option would be learning some of these magical incantations to banish her for the time being away from you and your clients. Some of these words require some tongue techniques that make you annoyed you never learned a second language. Or lastly, the more pragmatic and maybe far too trigger-happy option, you shoot her. If she can grab children at the very least there are times where she's corporal. You hold a gun and shoot her fucking face off. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[protection.->Protection Llorona]] * [[banishment.->Banishment llorona]] * [[homicide.->Homicide llorona]] </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> You are wagering your life on this. It's a gamble. But hey, dealing with the unknown is usually like that. <<set $pick1 to true>> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Pick La Llorona.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> You are wagering your life on this. It's a gamble. But hey, dealing with the unknown is usually like that. <<set $pick2 to true>> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Pick Baba Yaga.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> You are wagering your life on this. It's a gamble. But hey, dealing with the unknown is usually like that. <<set $pick3 to true>> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1,10)>> <<if $roll is 1, 3>> <<goto 'Pick Black Annis.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4, 10>> <<goto 'Pick Black Annis.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You get up and stick your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “If things go to shit we aren't going to fight this thing, we're going to use the safest method we can. For that we need protection, make sure she can't hurt us or your daughter,” you explain. “Wait $name! What is it?” he yells as you walk away. <<set $church to true>> You don't turn back but answer, “La Llorona.” It takes a bit of time to find the Church. There's only one in town but you haven't stepped foot in it for about a decade, you're parents hated going and hated bringing their kids. It has no actual name, it's just known as the Church. It's been here since Josiah's time. It's a white building, made from wood that creaks when draft gets in. Simplistic four-paned windows adorn the sides, small brownish double doors that don't shut perfectly straight act as the front openings, dead grass grows in the front patch divided by a cracked cement walkway with grass clumps breaking through and all overseen by a small belfry atop the arched roof housing the small black bell that hasn't rung since earlier this century. All in all not the most impressive place for worship. The double doors are slightly ajar as you walk up to them, you try to be quiet but the door you go through creaks loudly as it reveals the interior of the Church. Inside there no bulbs of light, the room gray from the natural light seeping through the windows. It's a simplistic room of worship and mass, pews and a center aisle leading to raised platform with an altar, a podium and behind it all a crucified Jesus in agony of his cross. Your footsteps are muffled by the carpeting in the aisle, your fingers stretch out to touch the pews as you pass along. You place a foot on the platform and raise your eyes up to Jesus. You have never given much thought to what you personally about God and religion, in the vein of Catholicism. You had heard the stories but they didn't register as either true or false. You see his hanged head, eyes looking down full of pain and tears. Blood dripping down his forehead. “Hello, Father Simmons? Are you here?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Protection Llorona 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You get up and stick your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “We don't know how these things will go, Stanley. If it goes all sideways we have to be ready to get this monster away from us and your daughter. We need to find a way to temporarily make her go away,” you explain. “Wait $name! What is it?” he yells as you walk away. <<set $church to true>> You don't turn back but answer, “La Llorona.” It takes a bit of time to find the Church. There's only one in town but you haven't stepped foot in it for about a decade, you're parents hated going and hated bringing their kids. It has no actual name, it's just known as the Church. It's been here since Josiah's time. It's a white building, made from wood that creaks when draft gets in. Simplistic four-paned windows adorn the sides, small brownish double doors that don't shut perfectly straight act as the front openings, dead grass grows in the front patch divided by a cracked cement walkway with grass clumps breaking through and all overseen by a small belfry atop the arched roof housing the small black bell that hasn't rung since earlier this century. All in all not the most impressive place for worship. The double doors are slightly ajar as you walk up to them, you try to be quiet but the door you go through creaks loudly as it reveals the interior of the Church. Inside there no bulbs of light, the room gray from the natural light seeping through the windows. It's a simplistic room of worship and mass, pews and a center aisle leading to raised platform with an altar, a podium and behind it all a crucified Jesus in agony of his cross. Your footsteps are muffled by the carpeting in the aisle, your fingers stretch out to touch the pews as you pass along. You place a foot on the platform and raise your eyes up to Jesus. You have never given much thought to what you personally about God and religion, in the vein of Catholicism. You had heard the stories but they didn't register as either true or false. You see his hanged head, eyes looking down full of pain and tears. Blood dripping down his forehead. “Hello, Father Simmons? Are you here?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Banishment 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You get up and stick your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “Look I'm not an expert of fucking monsters, ok? I don't know what I'm doing half the time but the best course of action I think is to blow her fucking brains out if she decides to get feisty,” you declare. <<set $gunL to true>> You leave Stanley with a shocked expression, his mouth comically hanging open. Well, that's usually one of the emotions you illicit in people. It feels much better when it's purposeful. You cut through town, taking the shortest route you can. There's only one place where you know where to find a gun. You just wonder if it's still there in Father's study as you last heard it was. You lightly jog the way back to the manor. Stopping when you reach the long dirt path towards the house. You hug your aching stomach as you walk on. Sally should really install a bike rack here to make this last stretch of journey easier for you. Still regaining your breathe you walk through the front door and waste no time crossing the rooms and quickly running up the steps. You walk down the hall and stop in front of the wooden door. You lean your head against the door and listen. You hear no sound from the other end. It is almost lunch time, Percy is either asleep, awake or about to come home. You don't know how much he'd actually care if you took Father's gun but he might say something to Sally just to create drama. You lay your hand on the handle and slowly pull it down. Hopefully Percy or god forbid Sally isn't in here. You wait another moment and perk your ears but you don't hear a sound. <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Homicide 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right. <<set $baba to true>> You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly the book warns you of being out in the woods and being a naughty child. The former is what you're planning to do and the latter is something you've always been. One of the options you're given is to pour hot tar on her eyes when she's either asleep or incapacitated or distracted. You would have to go to the hardware store for that one. A second option would be treating her badly, as in making her feel like she's being a bad host. You didn't even know she had a house, you thought she lived in the woods. Either way this once doesn't demand anything except being an ass. The last one is odd. It tells you to make friends with bees. Apparently in some tales, she asks you to do chores for her, hard chores and like any fairytale it is best to make friends with a group of animals to help you. It says bees here but it could be birds too or rats like Cinderella. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[the tar.->Tar baba]] * [[be a dick.->Dick baba]] * [[make friends.->Friends baba]] </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right.<<set $annis to true>> You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly you're advised to make sure your house has small windows so she can't have room to reach in. Even if you weren't going to confront her head-on, your house has big windows. Your first course of action is to accessory yourself with herbs. It doesn't say what herbs exactly but you're guessing the usual ones involved in superstition. This method is more for protection not direct fighting which might be for the best. The second method is daylight. It has to do with the fact that she lives in caves, she must despise bright light. Of course she isn't dumb so she'll only come out with Stanley's kid at twilight. You'll need some heavy flashlights. The final method is an ax to the face. In one of the stories, a father did this to protect his children and while it didn't kill her it did harm her enough to let the kids go. Blood, heavy and efficient. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[the herbs.->Herbs Annis.]] * [[flashlights.->Flashlights annis.]] * [[an axe.->Axe annis.]] </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You rub your hands together and reply, “we need to blind the bitch. No offence to you but things can get messy very quickly and we need to be ready so from what I read the best thing to do if all hell breaks loose is to pour hot tar on her.” “Uh, ok! Do you even know what she is?” he yells at your retreating form. You cross the street and answer, “yeah, she's the Baba Yaga.” <<if $pathone >>\ Once again it looks like you need to go to Milton's Hardware. You push open the front door and see the same ninth-grader you encountered the last time you were here. He squints at you as if trying to see if he recognizes you. His eyes widen when he does. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “heyyy...,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. Remember me?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I am in desperate need of tar. I was wondering if you have any stock?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 10)>> <<if $roll is 1, 4>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 5, 10>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2*'>> <</if>> <</button>> <<elseif not $pathone>>\ Milton's hardware is quite literally a place that is bigger than it seems when you're looking at it from the outside. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, what can we help you with today?” he asks in a squeaky voice, his eyes going wide when he sees you. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “heyyy...,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. We've seen each other a few times in high school huh?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I am in desperate need of tar. I was wondering if you have any stock?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Tar baba 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You cross your arms and look at the buildings in front of you without really looking at anything. “Apparently you kind of have to be mean to her. It's a hospitality thing I guess, you make her feel shitty and it emotionally messes with you,” you explain. “Really?” Stanley asks. <<set $dickB to true>> You nod. “And what is 'she' exactly?” “What's called a Baba Yaga, of Russian folklore. From the stories I've read it seems like she's kind of like the witch from Hansel and Gretel? Sometimes that is, and we're going to take this time as those sometimes and think as if she has a house with an oven,” you say. Stanley gets a panicked look on his face, “an oven?! She has an oven?! Does that mean she's going to eat Delilah?!“ You shrug your shoulders and give him a relaxed expression, “that's not a sure thing. Delilah will probably be fine.” Stanley only looks slightly relieved, but he goes back to writing. “We however? Might be cooked into a pie“ you add. Stanley's hand jerks and it leaves a long lead line across the page. He erases it furiously and you sit there and wait until he's done. Turns out you picked the easiest job. Lucky. It takes Stanley about another hour and a half for him to finally finish up the speech. When he's down he decides to let you read it as he goes to buy you two some sandwiches. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” <<set $friendsB to true>> You cross your arms and look at the buildings in front of you without really looking at anything. “Have you ever read any fairytales?” Stanley shakes his head and you continue, “in fairytales you have usually have a poor princess who makes friends with animals to aid her. She might get us to do things.” “One, who is 'she' and two, what things?” he asks. “What's called a Baba Yaga, of Russian folklore. From the stories I've read it seems like she's kind of like the witch from Hansel and Gretel? Sometimes that is, but it's not always an oven, sometimes she just wants you to clean her house“ you say. Stanley gets a panicked look on his face, “is that why she took my daughter?! To make her into a slave?!“ You shrug your shoulders and give him a relaxed expression, “that's not a sure thing. Delilah will probably be fine.” Stanley only looks slightly relieved, but he goes back to writing. “We however? Might be eaten“ you add. Stanley's hand jerks and it leaves a long lead line across the page. He erases it furiously and you sit there and wait until he's done. Turns out you picked the easiest job. Lucky. It takes Stanley about another hour and a half for him to finally finish up the speech. When he's down he decides to let you read it as he goes to buy you two some sandwiches. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You stand up and stretch your arms over your head. “This thing might be dangerous so I think it's not the worst thing to try and find some herbs or the like to protect ourselves. The lady supposedly has claws so...,” you explain. Without another word you turn right begin walking deeper into town. “Can you at least tell me what it is $name?” Stanley yells. “She's called a Black Annis,” you yell back. You stop at the intersection and think about where to go. You could go pick some herbs in the forest but you don't know what they look like. As you wait for the 'WALK' sign to appear you sweep your eyes around the stores. You sweep stops when you land on a sign. 'MARTINA'S APOTHECARY' the sign says above a clean glass door adorned with stickers of mushrooms and sunflowers. You peek inside to see warm lighting and cabinets full of jars along with a big table in the centre of the shop with just a mountain of grass.<<set $apothecary to true>> You push open the door and the bell jingles. The first thing you notice is the smell. It smells a bit citrus-y and sweet like honey. You look at the jars in the cabinets, some are flowers and others are eyeballs in formaldehyde. You snort when you see a bottled labelled 'cyanide.' You scratch your head and ding the small silver bell on the counter. The cash register is open and there's clear crisp bills inside. It seems Martina whatever-her-last-name-is, is doing well for herself. You ding the bell once more. “Helllooo? Anyone here?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Herbs Annis 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You stand up and stretch your arms over your head. “She doesn't like light. I'm also not going to do the stupid thing and underestimate her. She'll likely out during sunset or a bit after so we have to be ready if she decides to reject your speech,” you explain. Without another word you turn right begin walking deeper into town. “Can you at least tell me what it is $name?” Stanley yells. “She's called a Black Annis,” you yell back. <<if $pathone >>\ Once again it looks like you need to go to Milton's Hardware. You push open the front door and see the same ninth-grader you encountered the last time you were here. He squints at you as if trying to see if he recognizes you. His eyes widen when he does. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “hello,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. You remember when I came in here with Mr. Ewekes a while back, right?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I would love if you could get me some heavy flashlights. Do you have any in-store?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 10)>> <<if $roll is 1, 3>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4, 10>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> <<elseif not $pathone>>\ Milton's hardware is quite literally a place that is bigger than it seems when you're looking at it from the outside. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, what can we help you with today?” he asks in a squeaky voice, his eyes going wide when he sees you. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “hello,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. You go to my school, right?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I would love if you could get me some heavy flashlights. Do you have any in-store?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Flashlights 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You shut the book and hand it to Stanley. He gives you a puzzled look, “what are you doing?” You stand up and stretch your arms over your head. “Sometimes these fairytales are a bit more realistic. A good old knock to the face with an axe allegedley does the trick with this lady if she doesn't want to play ball,” you explain. Without another word you turn right begin walking deeper into town. “Can you at least tell me what it is $name?” Stanley yells. “She's called a Black Annis,” you yell back. <<if $pathone >>\ Once again it looks like you need to go to Milton's Hardware. You push open the front door and see the same ninth-grader you encountered the last time you were here. He squints at you as if trying to see if he recognizes you. His eyes widen when he does. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “hello,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. You remember when I came in here with Mr. Ewekes a while back, right?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I would love if you could get me an axe. Do you have any in-store?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 10)>> <<goto 'Axe 2.'>> <</button>> <<elseif not $pathone>>\ Milton's hardware is quite literally a place that is bigger than it seems when you're looking at it from the outside. On the outside Milton's looks like a one-story coffee-sized building in gray. Inside, it's three floors as wide as a track field and as long as a gymnasium. The place is mostly empty except for a pimple-faced ninth-grade you've seen around in school working the register. “Welcome to Milton's Hardware, what can we help you with today?” he asks in a squeaky voice, his eyes going wide when he sees you. You walk up to the register and try to seem friendly enough, “hello,” you look down at his nametag, “Robert. You go to my school, right?” The boy nods stiffy. You nod in turn and lean on the counter, “I would love if you could get me an axe. Do you have any in-store?” Robert gulps and in a jerky motion takes out a clipboard with paper from under the register and flips through the pages of inventory. His finger goes down the list as he mouths the words silently. You look around the store, it really does quite literally have everything. You could probably get some plutonium to power the flux capacitor here. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“M-Miss?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“M-Mister?” the squeaky voice of Robert pulls your eyes back towards him. The kid looks absolutely terrified of you.<</if>> “What?” <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2024/03/14/02/28/coins-8632209_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Axe 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Axe 2.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Axe 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Axe 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Axe 2.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Axe 2.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> Is this goes south you'll likely see some bloodshed. But that's just the risk of being a person who lives here. <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Funny speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Funny speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Funny speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Funny speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Funny speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Funny speech.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> Is this goes south you'll likely see some bloodshed. But that's just the risk of being a person who lives here. <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Flattery speech.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3><img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> Is this goes south you'll likely see some bloodshed. But that's just the risk of being a person who lives here. <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Sad speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Sad speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Sad speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Sad speech.'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Sad speech.*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Sad speech.*'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...a horse walks into a bar'// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone else laugh. <<set $jokeFunFail to true>> Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of humor nor why people feel the need to say comedic things to each other. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for humor. You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's funny but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences humorous in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. You don't laugh once. But maybe its the case that it isn't funny to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...what if it was your dog?''// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone cry. <<set $cryS to true>> Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of sadness nor why people feel the need to try and make each other feel compassion and empathy. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for what she termed 'whiny bitches.' You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's successful in its gut-wrehching but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences sad in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. You don't feel anything. But maybe its the case that it isn't do anything to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You hear a creak on the floorboards behind the closed little door to the side of the podium. You hear something loud and metallic clang against the floors and the voice of a man trying not to curse. The door soon opens and out comes an older gray-haired man with a black cassock and a white collar. He pauses in the doorway when he sees you. He then walks up the steps of the platform and goes to table. He places down a bottle of wine and a glass cup that looks fairly ornamental. It's silver gone black at the edges. “Father Simmons,” you say. He keeps his back to as he straightens all the contents on the table. “Yes, my child?” “I didn't think you were here,” you say. You don't know why you said that. It sound suspicious. Father Simmons looks at you over his shoulder and narrows his eyes. Yeah, definitely the wrong move. “Why wouldn't I be at my home? Especially approaching the lunch hour when I find most people need my guidance,” he says and smooths the table cloth. You don't answer, waiting until he turns around and walks to the podium. His dark eyes glitter as he stares down at you. “I have not seen you nor the rest of your family here in quite some time, I do hope you are maintaining a strong relationship with the lord at home.” You nod and try your best to imperceptibly lean your head to the left to see what's on the table. “I try Father Simmons,” you say. You can't see anything from this point. “Do not try $name, do.” Your eyes flick back to him and he's smiling. There's a certain edge to his eyes, something clear that tells you he might not know exactly what you're doing but that he knows you want to take something. “Are you here to make confession?” he asks. You almost snort but stop yourself by coughing, “no, not now. Perhaps another day when I'm not so busy.” Father Simmons nods and keeps that small smile on his face. He clasps his hands and keeps eye contact with you. You look down at your watch. He's not going to move, is he? “You should go $name. We wouldn't want news of your exploits to reach your parents, would we?” Father Simmons asks sweetly. You shake your head. “No we wouldn't.” You quickly turn away and speed walk down the aisle, you feel his eyes on your back, an itchy sensation spreads throughout your neck. Preferring not to deal with Stanley's tears you decide to simply go home. When you do get home way after lunch you tell the maid to say you're not there if someone by the name of Stanley ever calls. In a few weeks you still see him around town, his face washed out, a five o'clock shadow on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. Oh well, it wasn't your fault. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You hear a creak on the floorboards behind the closed little door to the side of the podium. You hear something loud and metallic clang against the floors and the voice of a man trying not to curse. The door soon opens and out comes an older gray-haired man with a black cassock and a white collar. He pauses in the doorway when he sees you. He then walks up the steps of the platform and goes to table. He places down a bottle of wine and a glass cup that looks fairly ornamental. It's silver gone black at the edges. “Father Simmons,” you say. He keeps his back to as he straightens all the contents on the table. “Yes, my child?” “I didn't think you were here,” you say. You don't know why you said that. It sound suspicious. Father Simmons looks at you over his shoulder and narrows his eyes. Yeah, definitely the wrong move. “Why wouldn't I be at my home? Especially approaching the lunch hour when I find most people need my guidance,” he says and smooths the table cloth. You don't answer, waiting until he turns around and walks to the podium. His dark eyes glitter as he stares down at you. “I have not seen you nor the rest of your family here in quite some time, I do hope you are maintaining a strong relationship with the lord at home.” You nod and try your best to inpercetibly lean your head to the left to see what's on the table. “I try Father Simmons,” you say. You can't see anything from this point. “Do not try $name, do.” You're eyes flick back to him and he's smiling. There's a certain edge to his eyes, something clear that tells you he might not know exactly what you're doing but that he knows you want to take something. “Are you here to make confession?” he asks. You almost snort but stop yourself by coughing, “no, not now. Perhaps another day when I'm not so busy.” Father Simmons nods and keeps that small smile on his face. He clasps his hands and keeps eye contact with you. You look down at your watch. He's not going to move, is he? “You should go $name. We wouldn't want news of your exploits to reach your parents, would we?” Father Simmons asks sweetly. You shake your head. “No we wouldn't.” You quickly turn away and speed walk down the aisle, you feel his eyes on your back, an itchy sensation spreads throughout your neck. Preferring not to deal with Stanley's tears you decide to simply go home. When you do get home way after lunch you tell the maid to say you're not there if someone by the name of Stanley ever calls. In a few weeks you still see him around town, his face washed out, a five o'clock shadow on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. Oh well, it wasn't your fault. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You push open the door and see Percy sitting at your Father's desk. He has his feet propped on the desk itself and he's flipping through a big long black book. He looks up when he sees you come in. “What are you doing standing there with a dumb face?” he says in his usual tone. You keep your hand on the door knob and reply, “I was actually hoping no one was here.” Percy smirks and flips another page of his book. “Sorry to spoil your fun Crazypants or whatever the fuck you do when you leave the house because we both know you have no friends.” You roll your eyes and look around the room, your eyes land on medium-sized gray book on the floor, against the wall. Percy follows the direction of your eyes. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You can hear the glee in his eyes when he says, “sorry you thinking of stealing from the old man too? Looks like you finally decided to take after me, I'm flattered sister.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You can hear the glee in his eyes when he says, “sorry you thinking of stealing from the old man too? Looks like you finally decided to take after me, I'm flattered brother.”<</if>> “Yeah ok. That's what I'm doing but I'm not trying to steal any money,” you answer. Percy flips another page of his book and press a finger to the page, “what do you want from it then?” You already said you didn't want money. If you now say you do he'll think you're lying. “I need Father's gone,” you say. Percy pauses his action and looks up at you with an expression that says he hasn't heard you. “What? What did you say?” “I want Father's gun.” Percy rolls his eyes and smiles down at the page, “yeah and I want to be the richest man in the Western World. We can't all get what we want Crazypants.” You grip the door knob harder, “I just need it for—“ “I don't give a fuck what you need it for. You and a gun aren't a good mix, insist one more fucking time and the next thing I do is call Sally,” Percy threatens. He closes the book and slides his feet off the desk. “Percy—“ “I don't give a fuck I'll be a snitch,” he interrupts you again. He stands up and shoves the black book into the shelves, you manage to catch the words 'FAMILY AL' before it disappears. He walks over to you with a smile and then shoves you backwards. He steps out of the room and shuts the door behind him, locking it with a small key he puts back in his pocket. He gives you a grin and whistles as he goes down the stairs. So, bust. You rub your forehead and go to your room, slamming the door behind you like a petulant teen. You throw yourself on the bed and groan. Mission failed greatly. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You bite into your sandwich, it's dry and flavourless bread moving along your teeth. It'll probably leave a cardboard like aftertaste. “I'm sorry, there was a line at the cafe so I went to the convenience store and those were the only sandwiches there,” Stanley says as he takes a small bite from his. “It's fine, they're dry enough that it'll take us a while to finish them. We need to kill time anyway, wait until the sun goes down,” you say. Stanley covers his mouth as he speaks, “why are you sure that she'll come out at sunset instead?” <<if $monsterwork >>“From what I read, she comes out at night. If we go now we'll just be waiting like idiots for hours in the woods,” you explain in between bites.<<elseif not $monsterwork>>“From what you told me about this Baba Yaga. The stories take place during the night. Or at the very least at twilight, she isn't stupid. She won't come out until then and it would be a waste of time waiting for hours in the woods,” you explain in between bites.<</if>> Stanley nods, you can hear the squelching of his food in his mouth. You frown and try to mute your ears by flexing them. “I didn't think you would ever actually help me,” he says suddenly. You swallow and look at him, he's looking at his sandwich but meets your gaze. “Why not?” “People in this town always mind their own business. No one helps anyone. You know what they told me when I went to report my daughter missing? Code green,” he grumbles. “Yeah they say that for everything really,” you concur. “And no one does anything,” he says, “but you did.” You move your eyes away from his and shrug, “yeah sure.” “Why?” You feel his eyes on you and you have an itch to be away from his eyesight. But you're here. <hr>\ * [[“I wanted to.”->Reason 1 check]] * [[“I don't know.”->Reason 2 check]] * [[You don't answer.->Reason 3 check]] </h3>

<h3>“There are some in stock, but they don't come alone, you'll need to buy a small stove,” Robert says. You feel in your pocket for any cash that you might have on you from your former exploits or Sally who insists you leave the house with at least twenty dollars. You place the bill on the counter and Robert takes it, asks you to wait and goes down the aisle. You tap your fingers on the counter and count the tiles on the ceiling. <<set $tar to true>> He comes back with a tiny stove that shows on the picture a small little can of tar. Robert seems less jittery as he rings you out. But you do feel a slight tremble in his hands as he hands over the plastic bag. “Thank you,” you say and leave a scared kid who does an audible sign of relief when you're back is turned. You walk back to Stanley's bench and hand him the bag, he peeks inside as you sit down. “Did you need to buy a stove? We'll just have to lug this around now,” he says. You lean back against the bench, “it can with it. Anyway it's a good thing because we need to heat it up and if we do it at your house by the time we get it to the woods and she comes much of it will have cooled. It comes with batteries.” Stanley lays the bag in between you two and hands his pages over to you. “You can read it, maybe see if anything is missing or grammer mistakes. I'll go get us something to eat,” he says. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>A woman leans her upper body out from behind a door in a small corridor in front of you. She comes out and scurries over, you slight lean back as when she stops and moves her face inches from yours. “$name Crown, aged 18, born December 17th 1975 which would make you a Sagittarius,” the woman breathes into your face. Her large eyes amplified from her bottle eyeglasses are wide open as she stares deeply into your soul. “I guess...?” you say. <<set herbsA to true>> The woman — likely Martina — smiles and leans away, “good! Sags are usually very funny and fun!“ Likely Martina almost prances to behind the counter and lays her many ringed fingers on the purple cloth. You walk up to her and say, “I'm actually looking for some herbs? Like for protection and... stuff.” “I have rosemary that protects a person's mind and their peace, I have sage which bands negative energy and cleans spaces, I have basil which repels negative energy and attract good energy and good luck, I have bay leaves which protect against negativity, I have garlic which protects against evil spirits, I have rue which promotes spiritual growth and purify from negative energies, I have mugwort which protects, and can transform negative energy into positive energy as well as help prophetic dreams, I have black cohosh which protects against harm, I have lavendar—“ You raise up a hand and hastily say, “just give me the basic cheapest ones you have please.” Likely Martina pouts and pushes up her glasses, “I was about to get to St. John's Wort.” She scratches her curly thick hair and comes out from behind the counter, going to a the cabinets on the other end of the room. She grabs little baggies and with spoons takes out the herbs, some are dried and some not. She ties them with a sparkly pink string and weighs them before telling you the amount. “How are you finding the town?” “Like always,” you say as she hands you the little baggies all in a bigger baggie. Likely Martina hits her forehead with her hand, “oh shoot! That was my go-to question for out-of-towners!“ You snort, you don't imagine how many out-of-towners are come anymore and much less to this shop which is fairly inconspicious amongst its crammed place. “It's ok,” you say graciously. “It's just that since the supermarket got a whole wall with spices and herbs all packaged from Big Herb I don't get anymore clients when my herbs are naturally picked! By my hands! None of those frau frau chemicals,” she says. You nod not knowing what to say. Likely Martina looks down at the floor with a scrutinizing look but then her eyes flick back up to you and she smiles widely, “hope whatever it is you're doing goes well.” You thank her and leave. When you get to Stanley's bench he quickly scribbles something and then hands the papers over to you. He tells you he's going to get you two some sandwiches. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>“Yeah we have some in stock. Do you care for the colour?” Robert asks. You shake your head, feeling in your pocket for any cash that you might have on you from your former exploits or Sally who insists you leave the house with at least twenty dollars. <<set $flashlights to true>> You place a bill on the counter and Robert takes it, asks you to wait and goes down the aisle. You tap your fingers on the counter and count the tiles on the ceiling. He comes back with two large flashlights that look like the type to use when hunting. Robert seems less jittery as he rings you out. But you do feel a slight tremble in his hands as he hands over the plastic bag. “Thank you,” you say and leave a scared kid who does an audible sign of relief when you're back is turned. You walk back to Stanley's bench and hand him the bag, he peeks inside as you sit down. “These are really heavy, it's going to be a pain to carry these around“ he says. You lean back against the bench, “yeah I guess. But the alternative is no flashlight and that could kill us and your kid,” you explain. Stanley lays the bag in between you two and hands his pages over to you. “You can read it, maybe see if anything is missing or grammer mistakes. I'll go get us something to eat,” he says. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>“Yes we have some, a bit heavy, and a bit pricey,” Robert says. You nod, feeling in your pocket for any cash that you might have on you from your former exploits or Sally who insists you leave the house with at least twenty dollars. You place a bill on the counter and Robert takes it, asks you to wait and goes down the aisle. You tap your fingers on the counter and count the tiles on the ceiling. He comes with a sharp axe, it's edge shining from the overhead lights. Robert seems less jittery as he rings you out. But you do feel a slight tremble in his hands as he hands the axe over to you. You imagine he thinks you're going to swing it at him. “Thank you,” you say and leave a scared kid who does an audible sign of relief when you're back is turned. <<set $axeA to true>> You walk back to Stanley's bench and hand him the axe, his eyes pop open as he feels it. “This is a bit much, don't you think? I mean are we really going to risk killing her?” You lean back against the bench, and give him a puzzled look,” she took your kid. Why wouldn't you want to risk killing her to get her back?” Stanley gives you a strange look and lays the axe on the ground by your feet. He hands his pages over to you. “You can read it, maybe see if anything is missing or grammer mistakes. I'll go get us something to eat,” he says. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>“You wanted to?” he asks, his voice unsteady. You nod, “yeah I did. Maybe that isn't a thorough explanation but I heard your story and felt the need to help.” Stanley drops his sandwich and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, “fuck me.” You raise your eyebrow at him, taking another dry bite from your sandwich. Stanley places his hands on his knees and looks you seriously in the eyes, “I'm so sorry.” <<set $truthS to true>> Now you're even more confused. You chew and swallow another lump of processed food. “About...?” He breathes in for a second before answering, “this was all a complete mistake. There was no daughter. The truth is I came upon a Baba Yaga's house and I went in and there was so much food there, the most delicious food I had ever tasted. I wasn't thinking and I ate some... a lot, I ate a lot and she caught me. She was going to kill me but I offered her someone else to take.” You lay your sandwich down on your lap and wipe the crumbs from the corners of your lips. “Me. You offered her me,” you say with a tense mouth. Stanley at least has the tact to appear remorseful. “Not you specifically. Just anyone that would help. You just so happened to be the only one who accepted,” he confesses. “And why have you decided to tell me this now?” Stanley breaks eye contact with you and looks down at his hands, “because you seem so kind. And brave. I feel like an asshole.” You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. When you open them again you stand up and throw the sandwich you hold in your hand at Stanley. The bread flies off the rest of it and lands face down on his shirt, staining it with mayo. “Well now I won't feel to bad by leaving you in the dust. Goodbye Stanley,” you say and begin to walk away. He grabs your hand and when you glare at it he quickly withdrawls. “Please! I'm sorry! I panicked I didn't know what to do. But she'll kill me. Please help me defeat her,” he cries. You stare at him incredulously. He does have some audacity, doesn't he? <hr>\ <<if $pick1 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick2 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick3 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5SS]] * [[“No.”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“You don't know?” You shrug, “that's what I said. I don't know. I just did it. Does everything need a reason?” <<set $truthS to true>> Stanley drops his sandwich and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, “fuck me.” You raise your eyebrow at him, taking another dry bite from your sandwich. Stanley places his hands on his knees and looks you seriously in the eyes, “I'm so sorry.” Now you're even more confused. You chew and swallow another lump of processed food. “About...?” He breathes in for a second before answering, “this was all a complete mistake. There was no daughter. The truth is I came upon a Baba Yaga's house and I went in and there was so much food there, the most delicious food I had ever tasted. I wasn't thinking and I ate some... a lot, I ate a lot and she caught me. She was going to kill me but I offered her someone else to take.” You lay your sandwich down on your lap and wipe the crumbs from the corners of your lips. “Me. You offered her me,” you say with a tense mouth. Stanley at least has the tact to appear remorseful. “Not you specifically. Just anyone that would help. You just so happened to be the only one who accepted,” he confesses. “And why have you decided to tell me this now?” Stanley breaks eye contact with you and looks down at his hands, “because you're a kid and you were willing to risk your ass for me.” You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. When you open them again you stand up and throw the sandwich you hold in your hand at Stanley. The bread flies off the rest of it and lands face down on his shirt, staining it with mayo. “Well now I won't feel to bad by leaving you in the dust. Goodbye Stanley,” you say and begin to walk away. He grabs your hand and when you glare at it he quickly withdrawls. “Please! I'm sorry! I panicked I didn't know what to do. But she'll kill me. Please help me defeat her,” he cries. You stare at him incredulously. He does have some audacity, doesn't he? <hr>\ <<if $pick1 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick2 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick3 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5SS]] * [[“No.”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“...are you going to say anything?” he asks, his face entirely confused. You shrug, “is it mandatory? I just want to eat my sandwich.” You take a bite chew heartily. <<set $truthS to true>> Stanley drops his sandwich and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, “fuck me.” You raise your eyebrow at him, taking another dry bite from your sandwich. Stanley places his hands on his knees and looks you seriously in the eyes, “I'm so sorry.” Now you're even more confused. You chew and swallow another lump of processed food. “About...?” He breathes in for a second before answering, “this was all a complete mistake. There was no daughter. The truth is I came upon a Baba Yaga's house and I went in and there was so much food there, the most delicious food I had ever tasted. I wasn't thinking and I ate some... a lot, I ate a lot and she caught me. She was going to kill me but I offered her someone else to take.” You lay your sandwich down on your lap and wipe the crumbs from the corners of your lips. “Me. You offered her me,” you say with a tense mouth. Stanley at least has the tact to appear remorseful. “Not you specifically. Just anyone that would help. You just so happened to be the only one who accepted,” he confesses. “And why have you decided to tell me this now?” Stanley breaks eye contact with you and looks down at his hands, “because you're a kid, you're young and I don't want to fucking lead you to die.” You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. When you open them again you stand up and throw the sandwich you hold in your hand at Stanley. The bread flies off the rest of it and lands face down on his shirt, staining it with mayo. “Well now I won't feel to bad by leaving you in the dust. Goodbye Stanley,” you say and begin to walk away. He grabs your hand and when you glare at it he quickly withdrawls. “Please! I'm sorry! I panicked I didn't know what to do. But she'll kill me. Please help me defeat her,” he cries. You stare at him incredulously. He does have some audacity, doesn't he? <hr>\ <<if $pick1 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick2 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $pick3 >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5]] * [[“No.”]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ * [[“Fine. I'll help you.”->SQ3-5SS]] * [[“No.”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Stanley's face perks up but you hold a hand up, “wait, I said I'll help but if she gets you and it's between my life and yours, I'm saving myself.” Stanley nods vigariously, “of course I understand.” You sit back down, scooting away from him. At a certain point Stanley goes to the newstand to get something to read for both of you even though you can let hours slip by without doing much. Still, you skim through the pages of the pages of The Croun Daily which holds nothing new except stories of shenanigans from residents. When the sky turns a bright orange from the sunset you both gather your things and make the woods that Stanley said was where he encountered her. [[NEXT->SQ3-5*]] </h3>

<h3>Stanley's face falls. “But—“ “No buts. You brought this on yourself. And then because you were such a coward you tried to trade in my life for yours, what kind of psycho does that?” you fume. “I already said that I'm sorry!“ he claims. You shake your head, a mocking smile on your face, “you should be more sorry that you're about to be the dinner to an angry monster in the woods.” You take a few steps backwards, not wanting to miss the reaction on his face. “Hope she has a tasty time,” you sneer. You walk home at a leisure pace. Fortunately you didn't have to put your neck out there for a client. If he survives and starts spreading rumours about how bad you were at your job, you'll just tell them he was willing to let you die. They might not believe you but seeds of doubt are enough to make people wary around him. You get home by mid-afternoon and spend the rest of the day lounging in your room. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You walk ahead of Stanley. You don't know why he suggested it. It's not like you know where you're going. Although you take it you might be more dispensable to him than he likes to admit. You haven't decided if that bothers you yet. The leaves crunch under your feet. The woods are silent all around you. There are so many things within these woods. You can't help but think about the thing that had left Stephanie here. You throw a glance at Stanley over your shoulder. He looks terrified, every time you look back his eyes snap to you and it looks like he'll be sick but he still makes the effort to smile at you. <<if$gunL>>\ You hope that your prediction was right. You're walking into what should be La Llorona's domain. You brought what you thought was best to save yourself and the others. The gun feels heavy. <<elseif $cross>>\ You hope that your prediction was right. You're walking into what should be La Llorona's domain. You brought what you thought was best to save yourself and the others. You clutch the cross on your neck. <<elseif $axeA>>\ You hope that your prediction was right. You're walking into what should be La Llorona's domain. You brought what you thought was best to save yourself and the others. You drag the axe behind you. <</if>> <<if $llorona>>\ You hear a cry in the night. It starts low, like someone gearing up to cry. You can't tell if whoever is making that sound is near as the sound bounces off the trees. You stop walking and Stanley stops as well as few paces behind you. You both wait. The cry is getting louder, there are no words just a long unstoppable wail inflicted with rage and desperation. You're about to tell Stanley to keep his eyes peeled when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. Out from between the darkness of the trees comes a figure, almost gliding atop the ground. It's a woman. Her long black hair hangs over her face, it sticks to her white wet dress. You look at the white sleeves on her arms, she's completely soaked. “This is her,” you whisper to Stanley. You were right. Stanley takes a step back as the woman continues to glide across the forest floor. You think she's going to pass you completely when she stops in front of you. She slowly turns or rather hover-turns to face you. <<elseif not $llorona>>\ You were walking, without really trying to see what was in the shadows when you stop in your tracks as something ahead of you seems to not blend in as well. It's a different type of darkness. You see the silhouette of what looks like something tall with curves. It lifts up its hand and moves it back and forth. A wave? “Hello?” you say. The figure dashes forward, speeding towards you and Stanley. But not in a run, no their head doesn't move up and down for it to be a run. It's more like a speedy walkway. You instinctively move a bit to the side as she stops inches from Stanley. A gust of wind hits you in the face. The Baba Yaga sits perched upon her mortar making her several feet taller than both of you. Her long gray hair flows from her scalp to pool around her lap. In the dying light of the day you can see her sunken eyes, her thin lips and the rags in which she dresses in. Above all you see the long fingernails and toenails that curl from her skin, chipped and thick. None of you speak for a moment. Her eyes remain trained on Stanley who's shoulders you see shake. She makes an odd noise, as if clearing her throat but it sounds like nails scratching porcelain. “Stanley, have you come to give yourself up to my table?” You were wrong. So wrong. <</if>>\ <<if $gunL>>\ You move your hand back and clutch your gun, “Stan—“ you begin to say when the gun is ripped from your hand. You turn around to see Stanley pointing the gun at you. His eyes have terror in them as you can see the gun shake, “get your ass over there. Go to her.” You raise your hands, you're tempted to look over your shoulder but he might shoot you. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You slightly turn your head, you can't fully see her but you can feel her somehow. You know she hasn't moved. She must be waiting. You look back at Stanley and say, “eat shit.” Stanley glares at you and threatens, “go to here now or I'll blow your fucking brains out.” You flinch as he moves the gun up to your forehead but you don't move an inch. “Either way I'm dead,” you say. Stanley inhales deeply and then replies, “that you are.” He presses the trigger. There's no loud boom. No feeling of something ripping through your skin. No pain. No blood. You haven't fallen backwards. Stanley still stands across from you. He looks from you to the gun and then clicks the trigger again. The safety. You feel like laughing. But you don't. Instead you run towards him, Stanley lowers the gun and tries to feel around it but you reach him and kick him hard the chest. He goes down and grab the gun. You try to leave but his hand tries to grip your shoe. You kick again, getting him in the jaw and you run, you run faster than you ever have, you run without looking back. You only finally stop when you pass the treeline. You collapse to your knees while still holding the gun in your hands. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $cross>>\ You grip your cross and the rosary you have dangling from your neck. “Stan—“ you begin to say when you're pushed forward. You stop a few inches away from her and turn around. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You grip your symbols of protection and say, “eat shit.” You then hear her moving behind you. The hairs of your neck stand up, you don't know if this is fear or merely the extent of her power. “For you! $capitalhimher. From me to you, now we're even right?” Stanley says. You hear her make a noise in her throat, something that could sound like a laugh if it didn't come from such an ancient throat. You look down at your feet and wait. There's movement next your elbow. You brace yourself, the cross digging into your hand. Air flutters your eyelids. “What are—“ you hear a scream and that is all it takes for you to run. You run without looking back. You only finally stop when you pass the treeline. You collapse to your knees while still holding the cross. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $axeA>>\ You dig your nails into the handle of the axe. “Stan—“ you begin to say when the handle is ripped from your hand. You turn around and see Stanley holding the axe up, between you two like a barrier. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You clench your hands and say with as much anger as you can manage, “eat shit.” You feel a bit of air hit your back and soon cold hands dig into your arms. It's so quick you can't even scream if you wanted to. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to go to Episode 4.->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You place both your hands on the table and clasp them, a cold glint in your eyes. “I need you to get your raggedy ass up on get me a book, a forbidden book.” Miss Norris gives you an impassive look, her hand still writing in impeccable precision. “You come into my library with that disgusting and entitled attitude? Is that really the way you'd think I'd help you?” she asks rhetorically. You feel your mouth stretch into a grim and answer, “yes I do think that's how you'll help me because for one this isn't //your// library, it's the towns and from what I recall my family founded this town. And two, my brother has connections, I could shut this whole place down and then where would you go?” She continues to stare at you, her lips rising a bit. “That's right, you'd go nowhere. Actually no, you'd go live with your granny outfits under the jungle gym at the park,” you add, a ping of satisfaction in your chest as you see get an amused light in her eyes. She sets down her pen and asks, “what would you like?” “Now we're talking. I want a book on supernatural creatures that take kids, and hurry up I haven't got all day,” you reply. Miss Norris gets up and walks out from under her desk, passing the empty desks and going into the dark spaces between the book cases. Feeling rather proud about how good it feels to get someone to do your bidding you lean against the front desk and wait. Minutes pass and you $habit out of boredom. You see Miss Norris come out from in between the book cases. She carries a small book in her hand, an old tattered thing without labels. She hands it to you and sits at her desk, “before you go and be a menace to whatever supernatural you're dealing with you're leaving with a renewed library card.” [[NEXT->SQ3-2]] </h3>

<h3>You clear your throat and try your best to school your facial expression into something that could resemble pity. “I need a book, an illegal book. About things that take little kids. It's not for me, it's for a man who is trying to get his daughter back.” Miss Norris looks up for a second before returning her eyes to the elegant scribbles she's making on her lined notebook, “if someone's daughter is missing should that person not go to the police?” <<set $nobook to true>> “We know they don't do anything unless it's like a massive code red,” you say. Miss Norris hums in agreement but makes no move to actually help you. You try to think of different combinations that could possibly gain her sympathy. Human emotions are strange. “Please, this man is desperate, a kid shouldn't be forever separated from their parents just because a malevolent creature decided to pick on someone weaker than them,” you plead. Miss Norris nods and sets down her pen, “we are in agreement. Like you I do care for others so much so that I can't give you this book.” You open your mouth to try and pressure her but she speaks first, “even possessing material like this could get you a one-on-one meeting with an officer in an interrogation room where they would use, let's say colorful methods to gain a confession much less reading it.” You roll your lips, expecting that an idea will pop into your brain but the resolute look in Miss Norris' eyes tells you that nothing you say will persuade her. “Go home, $name Crown. Don't get involved in things that could get you killed, even a Crown isn't safe these days,” she warns. In defeat, you do leave the library. Guess you'll have to potentially fight the monster without help. [[NEXT->SQ3-2]] </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right. You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly the book warns you against going near bodies of water and stay indoors at night if you hear her cries. The exact opposite of what you're going to do. Apparently it's good to carry around religious symbols. Rosaries, crosses and holy water. Here it gives you instructions on how to make your own holy water but you are missing any necklaces or even a picture of Jesus to help you. That would require going to the Church. Another option would be learning some of these magical incantations to banish her for the time being away from you and your clients. Some of these words require some tongue techniques that make you annoyed you never learned a second language. Or lastly, the more pragmatic and maybe far too trigger-happy option, you shoot her. If she can grab children at the very least there are times where she's corporal. You hold a gun and shoot her fucking face off. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[protection.->Protection Llorona]] * [[banishment.->Banishment llorona]] * [[homicide.->Homicide llorona]] </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right. You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly you're advised to make sure your house has small windows so she can't have room to reach in. Even if you weren't going to confront her head-on, your house has big windows. Your first course of action is to accessory yourself with herbs. It doesn't say what herbs exactly but you're guessing the usual ones involved in superstition. This method is more for protection not direct fighting which might be for the best. The second method is daylight. It has to do with the fact that she lives in caves, she must despise bright light. Of course she isn't dumb so she'll only come out with Stanley's kid at twilight. You'll need some heavy flashlights. The final method is an ax to the face. In one of the stories, a father did this to protect his children and while it didn't kill her it did harm her enough to let the kids go. Blood, heavy and efficient. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[the herbs.->Herbs Annis.]] * [[flashlights.->Flashlights annis.]] * [[an axe.->Axe annis.]] </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...a horse walks into a bar'// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone else laugh. <<set $jokeFunS to true>> Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of humor nor why people feel the need to say comedic things to each other. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for humor. You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's funny but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences humorous in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. You don't laugh once. But maybe its the case that it isn't funny to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...your body is like a tree truck'// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. <<set $jokeFL to true>> You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone else feel good about themselves. Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of flattery nor why people feel the need to say such exaggerated niceties to each other. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for what she termed 'ass-kissing.' You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's successful in its compliments but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences flattering in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. They just feel like words on a page. But maybe its the case that it isn't do anything to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>No one answers you. You stomp on the stairs of the platform and then stomp with your other foot forward. You wait when you're on the stage and then stomp a little louder as you go to the table. Before you even look at the table you wait once more to make sure that no one is here. You check your watch, it's almost noon. Looks like Father Simmons isn't in. Maybe he's making a housecall to one of the many pretty older women he's friends with when their husbands are at work. At least those are the rumours. <<set $cross to true>> You look at the contents on the table and see a few rosaries and a large gold cross pendant tied to a cheap black string. You take all of them and stuff them into your pockets. Right when you steal the last one you hear a movement of the knob of a door to the side of the platform. You rush down the steps of the platform and practically run down the carpeted aisle, your footsteps making loud thumps. “Who goes there?” Father Simmons yells as you dash through the front doors. You keep running until you arrive back at Stanley's bench. He watches as you gasp loudly and collapse next to him. You wipe your forehead and try to catch your breath. “What happened?” You shake your head and close your eyes, waiting for your chest to stop burning every time you speak. When your mouth breathing becomes shallow you close your mouth and say, “I got the stuff.” Stanley nods and shows you his speech. “Read over it, see if I have any spelling errors, I'll go get us some lunch.” [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...what if it was your dog?''// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone cry. <<set $SadFail to true>> Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of sadness nor why people feel the need to try and make each other feel compassion and empathy. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for what she termed 'whiny bitches.' You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's successful in its gut-wrehching but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences sad in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. You don't feel anything. But maybe its the case that it isn't do anything to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>Hopefully you're right. You read through the many things you can do to protect yourself and Stanley. Mostly the book warns you of being out in the woods and being a naughty child. The former is what you're planning to do and the latter is something you've always been. One of the options you're given is to pour hot tar on her eyes when she's either asleep or incapacitated or distracted. You would have to go to the hardware store for that one. A second option would be treating her badly, as in making her feel like she's being a bad host. You didn't even know she had a house, you thought she lived in the woods. Either way this once doesn't demand anything except being an ass. The last one is odd. It tells you to make friends with bees. Apparently in some tales, she asks you to do chores for her, hard chores and like any fairytale it is best to make friends with a group of animals to help you. It says bees here but it could be birds too or rats like Cinderella. You decide to go with... <hr>\ * [[the tar.->Tar baba]] * [[be a dick.->Dick baba]] * [[make friends.->Friends baba]] </h3>

<h3>You push open the door and it swings open to reveal an empty room. You walk and go diectly for the medium-sized safety box on the floor, against the wall. You take hold of the lock and move it back and forth to get 1971. You push the lid up and reach your hand inside. Your fingers skim past papers and what feels to be some jewelry before you get to something cold and hard. You wrap your fingers around it and lift it out. A small silver gun with a leather handle holds the room without its reflective body. You move it up and down in your hand. It feels unsual having something with so much power in your hand. You remember your Father's words when he showed you and your siblings this gun one morning in the mid-eighties. He said he was teaching you gun safety. That if an intruder came and he couldn't make it to the office, that one of us had to use the gun. You check the chamber for bullets and then you gently rub the safety. You shove the gun in the waistband of the back of your pants, the cold metal makes you shiver. You cover it with your shirt and quickly leave the room, shutting the door gently behind you. <<set $gunL to true>> You leave the manor and practically run all the way back to Stanley's bench. He watches as you gasp loudly and collapse next to him. You wipe your forehead and try to catch your breath. “What happened?” You shake your head and close your eyes, waiting for your chest to stop burning every time you speak. When your mouth breathing becomes shallow you close your mouth and say, “I got the thing.” Stanley nods and shows you his speech. “Read over it, see if I have any spelling errors, I'll go get us some lunch.” [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You hear a creak coming from the small corridor with a few doors closed in front of you. You take a few steps and say, “I'm looking for the owner of the shop or anyone who works here.” You hear another creak and you take one step forward before one of the doors slams open and a woman comes out with a crossbow. She aims it straight at your chest and just as you're about to raise your hands she pulls the trigger. The arrow rams through the front of your chest and comes out the other end. You stumble and grab the table for support as your other hand touches the arrow. The woman maintains her positions, the crossbow aimed at your descending body. You collapse to the floor. “That's what you get for trying to steal from me you damn teenagers!“ Your chest hurts so much that you can't even muster up the strength to speak. However, soon that pain dulls. Your vision dulls. Everything just dulls. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] </h3>

<h3>No one answers you. You stomp on the stairs of the platform and then stomp with your other foot forward. You wait when you're on the stage and then stomp a little louder as you go to the table. Before you even look at the table you wait once more to make sure that no one is here. You check your watch, it's almost noon. Looks like Father Simmons isn't in. Maybe he's making a housecall to one of the many pretty older women he's friends with when their husbands are at work. At least those are the rumours. <<set $bible to true>> You look at the contents on the table and see a leathered hardcover book, the engraved gold words on the cover say that it's a 'BIBLE.' No one is allowed one of these except the Father. You take it in your hands, it's a bit heavy but if you expected to feel anything, any power emanating from it, you're left with nothing. You're holding a book. Right as you stuff the bible in the waistband of your jeans, throwing your shirt over it, you hear a movement of the knob of a door to the side of the platform. You rush down the steps of the platform and practically run down the carpeted aisle, your footsteps making loud thumps. “Who goes there?” Father Simmons yells as you dash through the front doors. You keep running until you arrive back at Stanley's bench. He watches as you gasp loudly and collapse next to him. You wipe your forehead and try to catch your breath. “What happened?” You shake your head and close your eyes, waiting for your chest to stop burning every time you speak. When your mouth breathing becomes shallow you close your mouth and say, “I got the thing.” Stanley nods and shows you his speech. “Read over it, see if I have any spelling errors, I'll go get us some lunch.” [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>“Sorry but we don't have any in stock,” he says. You groan. “If you want we can order some for you? It would be here by the end of next week?” “No, by then she'll probably have eaten her to be honest,” you say absentmindedly. “What?” You shake your head and smile, “nothing Robert. Nothing. Thanks for the help.” You leave that 'going-through-puberty' child gaping in horror at your words. When you step outside you don't even think twice before going home. You aren't stupid enough to face a supernatural people-eater without any reinforcements. Sure, is it kind of horrible to leave Stanley's kid to her fate but you also don't want to die like that. You arrive at the house a little after lunch. As you hand the maid your jacket you instruct her to warm up your food and to not bother you with any calls from a man named Stanley. Over the next few weeks everytime you see him you turn around. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>“...are you going to say anything?” he asks, his face entirely confused. You shrug, “is it mandatory? I just want to eat my sandwich.” You take a bite chew heartily. Stanley looks down at his sandwich and pauses for a second. He looks back up at you and he looks ready to say something. “$name?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Stanley blinks and then looks away, “thanks for the help.” You nod even thought he isn't looking at you. Weird. You two finish your food in silence. You spend the next few hours sitting on the bench. At a certain point Stanley goes to the newstand to get something to read for both of you even though you can let hours slip by without doing much. Still, you skim through the pages of the pages of The Croun Daily which holds nothing new except stories of shenanigans from residents. When the sky turns a bright orange from the sunset you both gather your things and make the woods that Stanley said was where he encountered her. <<if $pick1 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5*]] <<elseif $pick2 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5**]] <<elseif $pick3 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5***]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“You wanted to?” he asks, his voice unsteady. You nod, “yeah I did. Maybe that isn't a thorough explanation but I heard your story and felt the need to help.” Stanley looks down at his sandwich and pauses for a second. He looks back up at you and he looks ready to say something. “$name?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Stanley blinks and then looks away, “thanks for the help.” You nod even thought he isn't looking at you. Weird. You two finish your food in silence. You spend the next few hours sitting on the bench. At a certain point Stanley goes to the newstand to get something to read for both of you even though you can let hours slip by without doing much. Still, you skim through the pages of the pages of The Croun Daily which holds nothing new except stories of shenanigans from residents. When the sky turns a bright orange from the sunset you both gather your things and make the woods that Stanley said was where he encountered her. <<if $pick1 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5*]] <<elseif $pick2 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5**]] <<elseif $pick3 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5***]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“You don't know?” he asks, his voice unsteady. You shrug, “that's what I said. I don't know. I just did it. Does everything need a reason?” Stanley looks down at his sandwich and pauses for a second. He looks back up at you and he looks ready to say something. “$name?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Stanley blinks and then looks away, “thanks for the help.” You nod even thought he isn't looking at you. Weird. You two finish your food in silence. You spend the next few hours sitting on the bench. At a certain point Stanley goes to the newstand to get something to read for both of you even though you can let hours slip by without doing much. Still, you skim through the pages of the pages of The Croun Daily which holds nothing new except stories of shenanigans from residents. When the sky turns a bright orange from the sunset you both gather your things and make the woods that Stanley said was where he encountered her. <<if $pick1 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5*]] <<elseif $pick2 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5**]] <<elseif $pick3 and $monsterwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5***]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <<elseif $speechwork >>\ [[NEXT->SQ3-5S]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You walk ahead of Stanley. You don't know why he suggested it. It's not like you know where you're going. Although you take it you might be more dispensable to him than he likes to admit. You haven't decided if that bothers you yet. The leaves crunch under your feet. The woods is silent all around you. There are so many things within these woods. You can't help but think about the thing that had left Stephanie here. You throw a glance at Stanley over your shoulder. He looks terrified, every time you look back his eyes snap to you and it looks like he'll be sick but he still makes the effort to smile at you. <<if $herbsA>>\ You get a whiff of the faint smell of rosemary on your body. It's a nice smell given the situation. You just hope you're right over what you think the creature is. <<elseif $flashlights>>\ The flashlight makes your arm ache, you've been carrying it for around an hour. You just hope you're right over what you think the creature is. <<elseif $axeA>>\ The axe drags behind you. It's heavy and it's making your arm ache. You just hope you're right over what you think the creature is. <</if>>\ <<if $annis>>\ You hear a branch creaks above you. You instantly stop. You know these branches don't move. There aren't animals to climb them nor is the wind ever strong enough to make them creak like that. You look back at Stanley who's looking up too. He looks scared but also... hopeful. While you're watching him you hear another creak and then the woosh that comes with falling. Something thumps to the ground. A figure crouches on the ground. The clothes with which it dresses are so black you can't make out where their clothes end and their begins. But you see the claws and the blue skin on their fingers. You were right. The Black Annis slowly, awkwardly stands up and she towers over you. So high you would need a latter to be able to look at her eye to eye. You feel the herbs in your pocket, enclosed in plastic. You move it over the fabric of your jeans, hoping this is enough protection. “Why have you brought another human with you? I had thought you finally accepted your fate?” she says, her voice sounding like worms slipping through mud. “Now that you have $himher you won't need me anymore, will you?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. Stanley isn't even looking at you but at her. “Stanley, what are you doing?” <<elseif not $annis>>\ You hear a cry in the night. It starts low, like someone gearing up to cry. You can't tell if whoever is making that sound is near as the sound bounces off the trees. You stop walking and Stanley stops as well as few paces behind you. You both wait. The cry is getting louder, there are no words just a long unstoppable wail inflicted with rage and desperation. You're about to tell Stanley to keep his eyes peeled when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. Out from between the darkness of the trees comes a figure, almost gliding atop the ground. It's a woman. Her long black hair hangs over her face, it sticks to her white wet dress. You look at the white sleeves on her arms, she's completely soaked. You were wrong. So wrong. “Now that you have $himher you won't need me anymore, will you?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. Stanley isn't even looking at you but at her. “Stanley, what are you doing?” <</if>> <<if $herbsA>>\ Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You take out the dried herbs and run them along your chest, Stanley rolls his eyes. “Please you really think that will work—“ His words are cut off when she in her towering glory, grabs him by the collar of his neck and lifts him ten feet off the ground. She uses her other hands to caress his face with her nails. “I do not like being deceived. You must repay me for your indescretion tiny human,” she claims and in one move unhinges her jaw and throws him full body into her mouth. You gasp as you hear his bones crunching between her teeth. You slowly back away, hoping she won't see you. You hear her audibly gulp and then her eyes flickers over to you. She looks you up and down. Seems to make a choice and then turns around. She leaves, her loud footsteps echoing in the woods. The darkness quickly swallowing her. You quickly run. You run and run without pause until you pass the treeline and collapse to your knees. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $flashlights>>\ You grip the handle of the flashlight. You lay your thumb on the ON button. “Why have you brought another human with you? I had thought you finally accepted your fate?” she says, her voice sounding like worms slipping through mud. “Now that you have $himher you won't need me anymore, will you?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. Stanley isn't even looking at you but at her. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You snort and say, “like hell.” You click on the flashlight and it's powerful beam hits Stanley's eyes. He covers them with his hands and you take that chance to run. Not before stopping in front of him and kicking him hard in the stomach. He falls down groaning. You quickly run. You run and run without pause until you pass the treeline and collapse to your knees. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $axeA>>\ You dig your nails into the handle of the axe. “Stan—“ you begin to say when the handle is ripped from your hand. You turn around and see Stanley holding the axe up, between you two like a barrier. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You clench your hands and say with as much anger as you can manage, “eat shit.” You feel a bit of air hit your back and soon cold hands dig into your arms. It's so quick you can't even scream if you wanted to. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to go to Episode 4.->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Stanley walks ahead of you. You made sure to always keep him in your sight, just because he told you the truth doesn't mean that his cowardice won't get the better of him. This Baba Yaga eats people, even if you want to die that's not the way you'd go. The leaves crunch under your feet. The woods are silent all around you. There are so many things within these woods. You can't help but think about the thing that had left Stephanie here. Stanley once again throws you a look over his shoulder. Each time he does it it's a mixture of regret and worry. Still that doesn't mean much, he could be regretful over telling you the truth. <<if $baba>>Now that you know all the facts, you're glad you were right in guessing who she was. You forwent all other plans and decided to use an axe to ram into her if need be, courtesy of the hardware store.<<elseif $speechwork>>Now that you know all the facts, you took Stanley's book from him and read everything you could on the Baba Yaga. You decided that you were going to use an axe to cut into her if need be. Courtesy of the hardware store.<<elseif $llorona>>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided to forget all the plans you had for La Llorona and decided a good old fashioned axe is apt based off the stories you read.<<elseif $llorona and $gunL>>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided that the gun was still a useful woman for this creature.<<elseif $annis>>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided to forget all the plans you had for the Black Annis and decided a good old fashioned axe is apt based off the stories you read.<</if>> Stanley suddenly stops and you stop a few feet behind him. He looks back at you and points ahead of you. The darkness at ground-level makes the already dim woods like nearly black. You squint your eyes as you try to make out what he's pointing to. You're about to ask him what he's looking at when you see the silhouette of what looks like something tall with curves. It lifts up its hand and moves it back and forth. A wave? Stanley looks back at you with a horrified look. Your eyes move back to the figure who lowers their hand. All three of you wait in stillness. No sounds but the thumping of blood in your ears. “Baba?” Stanley asks in a high-pitched tone. The figure dashes forward, speeding towards you and Stanley. But not in a run, no their head doesn't move up and down for it to be a run. It's more like a speedy walkway. You instinctively move a bit to the side as she stops inches from Stanley. A gust of wind hits you in the face. The Baba Yaga sits perched upon her mortar making her several feet taller than both of you. Her long gray hair flows from her scalp to pool around her lap. In the dying light of the day you can see her sunken eyes, her thin lips and the rags in which she dresses in. Above all you see the long fingernails and toenails that curl from her skin, chipped and thick. None of you speak for a moment. Her eyes remain trained on Stanley who's shoulders you see shake. She makes an odd noise, as if clearing her throat but it sounds like nails scratching porcelain. “Stanley, have you come to give yourself up to my table?” [[NEXT->SQ3-6]] </h3>

<h3>You read the first line of Stanley's speech and when you get to the words //'...your body is like a tree truck'// you swiftly erase the entire speech. You blow the pieces of rubber off the page and rub the pages, their very close to ripping from all the wear. You scratch your cheek, pencil tapping the page. You've never tried to sit down and think of the correct words to say in the correct order to be able to make someone else feel good about themselves. <<set $flatFail to true>> Honestly, you're not even sure you understand the point of flattery nor why people feel the need to say such exaggerated niceties to each other. Maybe if you had friends, you had Nia but she was never much for what she termed 'ass-kissing.' You don't think too hard and just begin writing. From somewhere deep in your brain the ideas just flow out. You're not sure it's successful in its compliments but you're writing at the very least. Every once in a while you look up to see Stanley flipping through the book, his expression is pinched as if he doesn't understand what he's reading. Whatever, that's not your job. You end up reading a full page of sentences flattering in nature and you read it back to yourself silently. They just feel like words on a page. But maybe its the case that it isn't do anything to you because you wrote it? Or maybe you need to say it out loud with a certain cadence? Oh well, you add the period and fold the speech up, placing it in your pocket. You look up to see that it's about noon and Stanley looks as busy as ever. You decide to get both something to eat. When you come back Stanley isn't there and you find a note telling you that he went to go get some supplies but that he'll be back. [[NEXT->SQ3-4]] </h3>

<h3>You and Stanley look at each other. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> For a moment neither of you does anything. Then you... <hr>\ * [[slap him.]] * [[demand payment.]] * [[leave.]] </h3>

<h3>You walk ahead of Stanley. You don't know why he suggested it. It's not like you know where you're going. Although you take it you might be more dispensable to him than he likes to admit. You haven't decided if that bothers you yet. The leaves crunch under your feet. The woods are silent all around you. There are so many things within these woods. You can't help but think about the thing that had left Stephanie here. You throw a glance at Stanley over your shoulder. He looks terrified, every time you look back his eyes snap to you and it looks like he'll be sick but he still makes the effort to smile at you. You hope that Stanley was right in telling you it was the Baba Yaga. You hope she'll accept your speech. You were walking, without really trying to see what was in the shadows when you stop in your tracks as something ahead of you seems to not blend in as well. It's a different type of darkness. You see the silhouette of what looks like something tall with curves. It lifts up its hand and moves it back and forth. A wave? “Hello?” you say. The figure dashes forward, speeding towards you and Stanley. But not in a run, no their head doesn't move up and down for it to be a run. It's more like a speedy walkway. You instinctively move a bit to the side as she stops inches from Stanley. A gust of wind hits you in the face. The Baba Yaga sits perched upon her mortar making her several feet taller than both of you. Her long gray hair flows from her scalp to pool around her lap. In the dying light of the day you can see her sunken eyes, her thin lips and the rags in which she dresses in. Above all you see the long fingernails and toenails that curl from her skin, chipped and thick. None of you speak for a moment. Her eyes remain trained on Stanley who's shoulders you see shake. She makes an odd noise, as if clearing her throat but it sounds like nails scratching porcelain. “Stanley, have you come to give yourself up to my table?” He was right. You take the folded page from out of your pocket. You clear your throat and wait for Stanley to say something to her. “Stan—“ you begin to say before he interrupts you. “Now that you have $himher you won't need me anymore, will you?” You throw a glance over your shoulder. Stanley isn't even looking at you but at her. “Stanley, what are you doing?” Stanley's breathing is quite heavy now, “don't you see? I'm fucking betraying you! This bitch has been haunting me since forever and I thought maybe she'll be satisfied with you.” “There was no Delilah,” you realize. Stanley lets out a strangled laugh, “none at all. I just thought it made the perfect sob story. I could go into more detail but she looks pretty ready to take you $name.” You look back at the Baba Yaga. She's sitting there, she looks slightly entertained, probably enjoys playing with her food.. You squint at the words, the old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handy. Stanley laughs, “really? You really think your fucking speech will work?” <<if $jokeFunS>>\ Something funny. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and Tim sat on the hat,” you finish off. <<elseif $jokeFL>>\ Something complimentary. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and your rotten teeth are diamonds,” you finish. <<elseif $cryS>>\ Something sad. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and let the lilies of forgiveness spring once more,” you finish. <<elseif $jokeFunFail>>\ Something funny. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and Tim sat on the hat,” you finish off. <<elseif $flatFail>>\ Something complimentary. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and your rotten teeth are diamonds,” you finish. <<elseif $SadFail>>\ Something sad. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and let the lilies of forgiveness spring once more,” you finish. <</if>>\ <<if $jokeFunS>>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a cackle escapes her lips. She throws her head back and claps her hands like a seal. Stanley flinches as her sharp cries of joy pierce the air. She almost topples off her mortar. She lowers her head and in between laughs says, “I haven't found something so funny since 1828! Spectacular!“ You wait until her laughter dies down. Her head lowers and with a grin she says, “ah what the hell! You can go kid, you're too valuable to be a replacement for this bastard.” “No! Wait! Please! I brought you someone else!“ Stanley screams. You don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that neither of them have followed you. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $jokeFL>>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a giggle escapes her lips. She smiles widely, to the point where it looks painful but genuine. She runs her tongue along her teeth. She rubs her cheeks and lowers her smile a tad before saying, “no one has said something so kind to me since 1945, amazing.” You and Stanley exchange glances and wait until for her to say more. She holds her throws you a placid look and with a bright countenance says, “ah what the hell! You can go kid, you're too valuable to be a replacement for this bastard.” “No! Wait! Please! I brought you someone else!“ Stanley screams. You don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that neither of them have followed you. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $cryS>>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a moan escapes her lips. She sniffs and you see fat tears spring from the edges of her eyes. They fall into her open mouth. She lets out a litte cry and wipes at her cheeks saying, “nothing has gotten me this bad since 1787, that was a tear-jerker.” You and Stanley exchange glances and wait until for her to say more. She blows her nose into her skirt and sighs, “ah what the hell! You can go kid, you're too valuable to be a replacement for this bastard.” “No! Wait! Please! I brought you someone else!“ Stanley screams. You don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that neither of them have followed you. [[NEXT->SQ3-6*]] <<elseif $jokeFunFail>>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at your head. That's all it takes for you to fall to the ground. A headache splitting your head in half. Darkness enroaches at the edges of your vision and you feel yourself being picked up. You're in too pain and too delirious to really see anything. Perhaps it is for the best. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to go to Episode 4.->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $flatFail >>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at your head. That's all it takes for you to fall to the ground. A headache splitting your head in half. Darkness enroaches at the edges of your vision and you feel yourself being picked up. You're in too pain and too delirious to really see anything. Perhaps it is for the best. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to go to Episode 4.->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $SadFail >>\ You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at your head. That's all it takes for you to fall to the ground. A headache splitting your head in half. Darkness enroaches at the edges of your vision and you feel yourself being picked up. You're in too pain and too delirious to really see anything. Perhaps it is for the best. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ $name Crown: 1975-1994. //“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at the side quest.->''Side Quest 3: Stuttering Stanley'']] [[Click here if you want to go to Episode 4.->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] [[Click here if you want to chose another side quest.->Side Quests 2]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You stay there for a few minutes. Not trying to calm yourself down perse but trying to gather your thoughts. He's dead. Technically you failed but to be fair he didn't go you all the facts until way later than he should've. Ultimately it's not your fault. You killed no one. You look at your watch. Your brother is going to have a fit. At least you're alive for him to have a fit at someone. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>Your hand opens and before he can react you slap him hard across the face. His head snaps to the side and he almost falls sideways but he catches himself with his hands. You wipe the sweat from your eyes and glare at him. “What was that for?!“ he yells. Your teeth clench, “'what was that for?' What was that for?! For putting me in this situation! For fucking ''lying'' to me! That's what that was for!“ You spit at the ground, your clenched fists shaking. He looks at you with a scared expression on his, thinking that if she didn't kill him, you will. You point a finger at him as you begin walking away backwards, “don't ever contact me again! Next time you get yourself in shit, man up!“ You turn forward and begin the long walk home, knowing how pissed your brother will be about the hour but a bit elated for smacking Stanley. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You hold out your hand. Stanley looks down at it, “what is it?” You raise your eyebrow at him and say, “I did a job for you, you aren't dead so now I want to give me money.” <<set $Stancash to true>> Stanley looks surprised, “but—“ Any protest he has dies on his lips when he sees the look on your face. He rolls his eyes as he takes out his wallet. He hands for a twenty and you stare at him. He sighs and hands you a fifty. You shove the bills in your pocket and turn away without another word. The long walk home will prepare you for the anger of your brother and the cash will help make you feel better. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>You don't even deign to have a conversation with him. All was said and done. You did your job well, he's alive and you're alive. There's no need to stay there and reminisce. You aren't friends and frankly you don't want to be. Walking home you mentally prepare yourself for how mad your brother will be because of how late you're getting home. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] </h3>

<h3>Stanley walks ahead of you. You made sure to always keep him in your sight, just because he told you the truth doesn't mean that his cowardice won't get the better of him. This Baba Yaga eats people, even if you want to die that's not the way you'd go. The leaves crunch under your feet. The woods are silent all around you. There are so many things within these woods. You can't help but think about the thing that had left Stephanie here. Stanley once again throws you a look over his shoulder. Each time he does it it's a mixture of regret and worry. Still that doesn't mean much, he could be regretful over telling you the truth. <<if $baba >>Now that you know all the facts, you're glad you were right in guessing who she was. You forwent all other plans and decided to use an axe to ram into her if need be, courtesy of the hardware store.<<elseif $speechwork >>Now that you know all the facts, you took Stanley's book from him and read everything you could on the Baba Yaga. You decided that you were going to use an axe to cut into her if need be. Courtesy of the hardware store.<<elseif $llorona>>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided to forget all the plans you had for La Llorona and decided a good old fashioned axe is apt based off the stories you read.<<elseif $llorona and $gunL >>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided that the gun was still a useful woman for this creature.<<elseif $annis >>Now that you know all the facts, you're a bit disappointed that you were wrong. You decided to forget all the plans you had for the Black Annis and decided a good old fashioned axe is apt based off the stories you read.<</if>> Stanley suddenly stops and you stop a few feet behind him. He looks back at you and points ahead of you. The darkness at ground-level makes the already dim woods like nearly black. You squint your eyes as you try to make out what he's pointing to. You're about to ask him what he's looking at when you see the silhouette of what looks like something tall with curves. It lifts up its hand and moves it back and forth. A wave? Stanley looks back at you with a horrified look. Your eyes move back to the figure who lowers their hand. All three of you wait in stillness. No sounds but the thumping of blood in your ears. “Baba?” Stanley asks in a high-pitched tone. The figure dashes forward, speeding towards you and Stanley. But not in a run, no their head doesn't move up and down for it to be a run. It's more like a speedy walkway. You instinctively move a bit to the side as she stops inches from Stanley. A gust of wind hits you in the face. The Baba Yaga sits perched upon her mortar making her several feet taller than both of you. Her long gray hair flows from her scalp to pool around her lap. In the dying light of the day you can see her sunken eyes, her thin lips and the rags in which she dresses in. Above all you see the long fingernails and toenails that curl from her skin, chipped and thick. None of you speak for a moment. Her eyes remain trained on Stanley who's shoulders you see shake. She makes an odd noise, as if clearing her throat but it sounds like nails scratching porcelain. “Stanley, have you come to give yourself up to my table?” [[NEXT->SQ3-6S]] </h3>

<h3>Stanley's breathing picks up a pace, louder than words but he tries. “No, um, I'm-I'm not.” The Baba Yaga frowns and reaches behind her to take out her pestle, it's rotted wood with earthworms dipping in and out of the holes made by centuries of use. “Then you have brought me a suitable replacement?” Stanley moves his head stiffly from the left to the right, “n-no. I-I haven't. I was w-wondering if you could l-l-let this go?” The Baba Yaga's eyes crinkle as a horrible smile splits on her face, “'let this go?' You came into my home like a piggy and ate a dinner I had been lovingly preparing for many months and you expect me to let you go free?” “I'm begging-g-g you,” he whimpers. She cackles, “I do love when my meat is scared, it adds a rich flavour.” “$capitalheshe wrote a speech. A good speech. You just let $himher read it and if you like it then let us go,” Stanley begs. The Baba Yaga's eyes finally see you. She takes in your face and the folded paper in your hand. She leans forward on her mortar and says, “if I don't like you're speech I'm going to kill both of you, understood?” <<if $jokeFunS>>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the comedic speech you made, the old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handy. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and Tim sat on the hat,” you finish off. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a cackle escapes her lips. She throws her head back and claps her hands like a seal. Stanley flinches as her sharp cries of joy pierce the air. She almost topples off her mortar. She lowers her head and in between laughs says, “I haven't found something so funny since 1828! Spectacular!“ You and Stanley exchange glances and wait until her laughter has died down. She holds her stomach and with a bright grin says, “ah what the hell! You two can go! But don't think I give second chances Stanley Walsh, eat my food again and I'll bake you into a pie.” You and Stanley don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that she's gone. [[NEXT->SQ3-7]] <<elseif $jokeFL >>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the flattering speech you made. The old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handyTruth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and your rotten teeth are diamonds,” you finish. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a giggle escapes her lips. She smiles widely, to the point where it looks painful but genuine. She runs her tongue along her teeth. She rubs her cheeks and lowers her smile a tad before saying, “no one has said something so kind to me since 1945, amazing.” You and Stanley exchange glances and wait until for her to say more. She holds her throws you a placid look and with a bright countenance says, “ah what the hell! You two can go! But don't think I give second chances Stanley Walsh, eat my food again and I'll bake you into a pie.” You and Stanley don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that she's gone. [[NEXT->SQ3-7]] <<elseif $cryS >>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the sad speech you made. The old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handy. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and let the lilies of forgiveness spring once more,” you finish. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? Until a moan escapes her lips. She sniffs and you see fat tears spring from the edges of her eyes. They fall into her open mouth. She lets out a litte cry and wipes at her cheeks saying, “nothing has gotten me this bad since 1787, that was a tear-jerker.” You and Stanley exchange glances and wait until for her to say more. She blows her nose into her skirt and sighs, “ah what the hell! You two can go! But don't think I give second chances Stanley Walsh, eat my food again and I'll bake you into a pie.” You and Stanley don't need anymore convincing than that, you quickly retreat from her presence. Practically sprinting through the woods, a bit before getting to the treeline you look back and see that she's gone. [[NEXT->SQ3-7]] <<elseif $jokeFunFail >>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the comedic speech you made. The old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handy. Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and Tim sat on the hat,” you finish off. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at Stanley's head. He tries to duck it but it clips the top of his head. He stumbles and that's enough for the Baba Yaga to swing again and hit him right the face. He falls back, blood spurting from his nose. You take a step back and watch as she raises her pestle and slams it down into his abdomen. A spray of blood flies up and you feel it speckle your face. The Baba Yaga pulls her pestle up, a bit of intestine trailing at the bottom of it. She seems neither perturbed nor elated. She looks bored as she jumps down from her mortar and crouches by his side. She pokes at the gaping wound and lifts a curled nail to her lips. She sucks on it and says to you, “O positive. Not that special. Well, what can you do?” She then proceeds to somehow lift him up into her arms and throw him inside her mortar. She climbs back up and smiles at you before speeding off into the darkness. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You mechnically turn around and walk back to the treeline. Once you get there you breathe in and out until your heart stops hammering like a bird. Vowing never to say anything about this to anyone you go home. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $flatFail>>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the flattering speech you made. The old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handyTruth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. “...and your rotten teeth are diamonds,” you finish. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at Stanley's head. He tries to duck it but it clips the top of his head. He stumbles and that's enough for the Baba Yaga to swing again and hit him right the face. He falls back, blood spurting from his nose. You take a step back and watch as she raises her pestle and slams it down into his abdomen. A spray of blood flies up and you feel it speckle your face. The Baba Yaga pulls her pestle up, a bit of intestine trailing at the bottom of it. She seems neither perturbed nor elated. She looks bored as she jumps down from her mortar and crouches by his side. She pokes at the gaping wound and lifts a curled nail to her lips. She sucks on it and says to you, “O positive. Not that special. Well, what can you do?” She then proceeds to somehow lift him up into her arms and throw him inside her mortar. She climbs back up and smiles at you before speeding off into the darkness. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You mechnically turn around and walk back to the treeline. Once you get there you breathe in and out until your heart stops hammering like a bird. Vowing never to say anything about this to anyone you go home. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <<elseif $SadFail>>\ Stanley nods and jerks his head at you to begin. You unfold the paper and start reading the sad speech you made. The old townie ability to see well in the dark coming in handy Truth be told you don't even hear what you're saying. You're too focused on the way your voice sounds and what is at stake that you practically race through it. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “...and let the lilies of forgiveness spring once more,” you finish. You look up to see the Baba Yaga and her expression is stony. Not angry but perhaps unimpressed? She grips her mortar tightly and without another word swings it at Stanley's head. He tries to duck it but it clips the top of his head. He stumbles and that's enough for the Baba Yaga to swing again and hit him right the face. He falls back, blood spurting from his nose. You take a step back and watch as she raises her pestle and slams it down into his abdomen. A spray of blood flies up and you feel it speckle your face. The Baba Yaga pulls her pestle up, a bit of intestine trailing at the bottom of it. She seems neither perturbed nor elated. She looks bored as she jumps down from her mortar and crouches by his side. She pokes at the gaping wound and lifts a curled nail to her lips. She sucks on it and says to you, “O positive. Not that special. Well, what can you do?” She then proceeds to somehow lift him up into her arms and throw him inside her mortar. She climbs back up and smiles at you before speeding off into the darkness. You mechnically turn around and walk back to the treeline. Once you get there you breathe in and out until your heart stops hammering like a bird. Vowing never to say anything about this to anyone you go home. [[NEXT->Episode 4: I Was Walking Into the Water. And I Was Trying Not To Breathe]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to elaborate. I don't recall much of what they said but a certain line did stand out to me: 'Anger means that I can hurt others before others can hurt me. I'm safe.'// //''Dated April 1993''// <<set $protectionlie to true>> //Patient 27 has been confined to solitary for an incident that occured this morning, involving an attack on another patient.// //''Dated April 1993''// //I asked C if that attack was in $hisher eyes, a form of protecting $himselfherself and $heshe answered that they did not remember the incident nor anything about the patient they assaulted.// //''Dated May 1993''// //A minor breakthrough with patient 27. I got $himher to speak a little about $hisher feelings towards Sally.// //I asked if $heshe had ever thought in length about how Sally raising $himher like a father might've twisted what could've been a regular sibling relationship? $capitalheshe said maybe.// //I then asked what $heshe felt towards $hisher brother?// //$capitalheshe responded by saying...// <hr>\ * [[☄ “Resentment.”]] * [[☽ “Gratefulness.”]] * [[☄ “Disgust.”]] * [[“Love.”]] * [[“Hate.”]] * [[“Nothing.”]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to elaborate. I don't recall much of what they said but a certain line did stand out to me: 'My body doesn't feel like my own. It's like I'm not safe here.'// //''Dated April 1993''// <<set $controllie to true>> //Patient 27 has been confined to solitary for an incident that occured this morning, involving an attack on another patient.// //''Dated April 1993''// //I asked C if that attack was in $hisher eyes, losing control of $himselfherself and $heshe answered that they did not remember the incident nor anything about the patient they assaulted.// //''Dated May 1993''//<<set $Ethical += 1>> //A minor breakthrough with patient 27. I got $himher to speak a little about $hisher feelings towards Sally.// //I asked if $heshe had ever thought in length about how Sally raising $himher like a father might've twisted what could've been a regular sibling relationship? $capitalheshe said maybe.// //I then asked what $heshe felt towards $hisher brother?// //$capitalheshe responded by saying...// <hr>\ * [[☄ “Resentment.”]] * [[☽ “Gratefulness.”]] * [[☄ “Disgust.”]] * [[“Love.”]] * [[“Hate.”]] * [[“Nothing.”]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to elaborate. I don't recall much of what they said but a certain line did stand out to me: 'To relinquish complete control like that is exquisite, like the power of a God.'// //''Dated April 1993''// <<set $delightlie to true>> //Patient 27 has been confined to solitary for an incident that occured this morning, involving an attack on another patient.// //''Dated April 1993''// //I asked C if that attack was in $hisher eyes, something enjoyable to $himselfherself and $heshe answered that they did not remember the incident nor anything about the patient they assaulted.// <<set $Corrupt += 1>> //''Dated May 1993''// //A minor breakthrough with patient 27. I got $himher to speak a little about $hisher feelings towards Sally.// //I asked if $heshe had ever thought in length about how Sally raising $himher like a father might've twisted what could've been a regular sibling relationship? $capitalheshe said maybe.// //I then asked what $heshe felt towards $hisher brother?// //$capitalheshe responded by saying...// <hr>\ * [[☄ “Resentment.”]] * [[☽ “Gratefulness.”]] * [[☄ “Disgust.”]] * [[“Love.”]] * [[“Hate.”]] * [[“Nothing.”]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to elaborate. I don't recall much of what they said but a certain line did stand out to me: 'How can I explain something that is so intrinsically apart of me?'// //''Dated April 1993''// <<set $unknownlie to true>> //Patient 27 has been confined to solitary for an incident that occured this morning, involving an attack on another patient.// //''Dated April 1993''// //I asked C if that attack was in $hisher eyes, logical to $himselfherself and $heshe answered that they did not remember the incident nor anything about the patient they assaulted.// //''Dated May 1993''// //A minor breakthrough with patient 27. I got $himher to speak a little about $hisher feelings towards Sally.// //I asked if $heshe had ever thought in length about how Sally raising $himher like a father might've twisted what could've been a regular sibling relationship? $capitalheshe said maybe.// //I then asked what $heshe felt towards $hisher brother?// //$capitalheshe responded by saying...// <hr>\ * [[☄ “Resentment.”]] * [[☽ “Gratefulness.”]] * [[☄ “Disgust.”]] * [[“Love.”]] * [[“Hate.”]] * [[“Nothing.”]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. This is nearly verbatim: 'He makes me feel trapped. Meanwhile he has this whole life. He can't even given me a smidge of life. Every time he sees me I feel like he's looking at something pathetic and defenseless.'// <<set $sallyf to 'r'>> //''Dated September 1994''// <<set $Worth += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.//// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. This is nearly verbatim: 'Someone like me isn't easy to care for. I know he's sacrificed so much so that I could have as normal chance at childhood as he could give me. I don't deserve him.'// <<set $sallyf to 'g'>> <<set $Worthless += 1>> //''Dated September 1994''// <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.//// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. This is nearly verbatim: 'He's weak. He's a snivelling coward who can't stand having a single person not like him. He bends over backwards to kiss everyone's asses. Someone so starved for recognition and attention doesn't have the balls to lead the family.'// //''Dated September 1994''// <<set $sallyf to 'd'>><<set $Worth += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.//// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. This is nearly verbatim: 'He's the only person in my life that has ever loved me. He goes above and beyond to show me that and he doesn't ever ask for anything in return because whatever he does he does it with pleasure. How couldn't I love him?'// //''Dated September 1994''// <<set $sallyf to 'l'>><<set $Worth += 1>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.//// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. This is nearly verbatim: 'Neither hot or cold, really. He's my brother, he raised me and I don't think much about it or him apart from the facts. It's like if something has always been there there isn't any point to think about it, right?'// //''Dated September 1994''// <<set $sallyf to 'n'>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.//// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//I asked $himher to try and explain what $heshe meant by that. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>This is nearly verbatim: 'I wish he could die. I wish he were gone from my life so I can finally free myself. Being his sister is like slowly being crushed under his expensive shoes. Every night I pray that when I awake he's gone.'//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>This is nearly verbatim: 'I wish he could die. I wish he were gone from my life so I can finally free myself. Being his brother is like slowly being crushed under his expensive shoes. Every night I pray that when I awake he's gone.'//<</if>> //''Dated September 1994''// <<set $sallyf to 'h'>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their daughter home.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>//Patient 27 is being discharged tomorrow. I tried to speak to Salvatore to reconsider, C's treatment would require years of regular medication and check-ins to make a difference but he told me that it was of the upmost importance to his parents (Victor and Prudence Crown) to bring their son home.<</if>> I fear this is an enormous and irreversible mistake.// [[NEXT->Page 253]] </h3>

<h3>//Late September// You stare at your naked form. Your clothes lie on the floor next to your feet. You stand in front of your full-length mirror and take in the body that is encased between the frame. You have never really looked at it before. You felt no need to. But moments ago you got the idea in your head to strip and look. <<if $body is 'angular'>>It's an angular body. Thin and long.<<elseif $body is 'stocky'>>It's a stocky body. Short and compact.<<elseif $body is 'plump'>>It's a plump body. Chubby and soft.<<elseif $body is 'lithe'>>It's a lithe body. Lean and bony.<<elseif $body is 'average'>>It's an average body. Not too thin, not too fat and like most.<</if>><<if $skin is 'pale'>> Pale.<<elseif $skin is 'fair'>> White.<<elseif $skin is 'tanned'>> Olive coloured.<<elseif $skin is 'brown'>> Brown.<<elseif $skin is 'dark brown'>> Black.<<elseif $skin is 'brown and white patched'>>Brown and white.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, your breasts are firm. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. A cunt. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, you've dreamt of peaks. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. A cock. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't. You know there's something 'off' here, that this isn't the body you're meant to have. It should be softer, beautiful not handsome.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, a flat plain. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. A cock. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, you've dreamt of ridding yourself of the peaks. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. A cunt. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't.You know there's something 'off' here, that this isn't the body you're meant to have. It should be sturdier, handsome not beautiful.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, like any other. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. Genitals, whether cunt or cock it really just is skin and organ. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Your eyes climb down your chest, like any other. Down your stomach to that place in between your legs. Genitals, whether cunt or cock it really just is skin and organ. You think of touching it for a moment but you don't.<</if>> Your body has changed significantly in the last two years. Older. The telltale marks of puberty making themselves known. You hadn't noticed when you left childhood. It had not mattered much because you hadn't ever thought to consider what growing up was nor to think of your body as a physical present thing that feels, can be seen and touched. [[NEXT->Page 254]] </h3>

<h3>Now that you've thought about it... what do you make of it? <hr>\ * [[You like it.]] * [[You think it's sexy.]] * [[It's ok.]] * [[It's a body.]] * [[You don't like it.]] </h3>

<h3>It's nice. It's the perfect body for you. Although you could do without certain scars especially the most vicious one. You have hair, you've never decided if you liked to shave it or not due to the fact that you weren't allowed razors in the asylum. <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ //You like but wouldn't you like it more if you had breasts?// These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a woman, just having breasts? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ //You like but wouldn't you like it more if you didn't have breasts?// These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a man, just taking out the fat and tissue away? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <</if>>\ You think you'll...<<cycle '$shave' autoselect>><<option 'shave.'>><<option 'not shave.'>><</cycle>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You thought it was horrifying. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You hated it. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 255]] </h3>

<h3>You have never used that word for yourself but it feels fitting. This body is attractive, alluring. Although you could do without certain scars especially the most vicious one. You have hair, you've never decided if you liked to shave it or not due to the fact that you weren't allowed razors in the asylum. <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ //Breasts would make it sexier.// These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a woman, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ //A flat chest would make it sexier.// These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a man, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <</if>>\ You think you'll...<<cycle '$shave' autoselect>><<option 'shave.'>><<option 'not shave.'>><</cycle>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You thought it was horrifying. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You hated it. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face.==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 255]] </h3>

<h3>It's not spectacular. But you don't need it to be. It's yours. This body is sufficient for you. Although you could do without certain scars especially the most vicious one. You have hair, you've never decided if you liked to shave it or not due to the fact that you weren't allowed razors in the asylum. <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ It's ok but... maybe your body could look more feminine. These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a woman, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It's ok but... maybe your body could look more masculine. These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a man, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Your body is real. It's ok. It's a tangible thing. The body isn't the problem. You no longer want yourself to be perceived by what you have there at the apex of your thighs. You just don't know how to say it. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Your body is real. It's ok. It's a tangible thing. The body isn't the problem. You no longer want yourself to be perceived by what you have there at the apex of your thighs. You just don't know how to say it. You sigh. <</if>>\ You think you'll...<<cycle '$shave' autoselect>><<option 'shave.'>><<option 'not shave.'>><</cycle>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You thought it was horrifying. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You hated it. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 255]] </h3>

<h3>It does everything you need it to do wake up everyday. There's not much else to say. The scars, even the most vicious one is just //there//. You have hair, you've never decided if you liked to shave it or not due to the fact that you weren't allowed razors in the asylum. You think you'll...<<cycle '$shave' autoselect>><<option 'shave.'>><<option 'not shave.'>><</cycle>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You thought it was horrifying. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You hated it. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 255]] </h3>

<h3>It's inadequate. Perhaps you just find it ugly. Or perhaps it's missing something <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ Your body could look more feminine. These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a woman, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ Your body could look more masculine. These thoughts have pressed against your skull all your life. But lately they've gotten so loud. And you don't know what to do with them. Is being a man, just saying you are? Is there something more? There must be. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Your body is real. It's a tangible thing. But you no longer want yourself to be perceived by what you have there at the apex of your thighs. You just don't know how to say it. You sigh. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Your body is real. It's a tangible thing. But you no longer want yourself to be perceived by what you have there at the apex of your thighs. You just don't know how to say it. You sigh. <</if>>\ You think you'll...<<cycle '$shave' autoselect>><<option 'shave.'>><<option 'not shave.'>><</cycle>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You remember when your voice cracked.You thought it was horrifying.You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You hated it. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You remember the first time you bled. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You remember when your voice cracked. You knew what it meant in scientific terms but not much else. It was actually Sally who had to have that awkward conversation with you. For some reason he seemed surprised almost like... he never thought it would be possible for you to. You're probably just making it more serious than it is. He didn't want to believe you were growing up.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. ==You feel, therefore you are.== No, you don't feel what you are. Not with your hands at least.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your breasts. Feeling the two spots on each breast harden. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>You run your hands along your chest. Feeling the two spots on each section harden slightly. Huh. You weren't aware it could happen without arousal. You put your hands to your buttocks and squeeze. You run your fingers along your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your face. You feel, therefore you are.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 255]] </h3>

<h3>You begin to feel a bit of pressure in the middle of your forehead. You inhale sharply and press your thumb to the spot, rubbing it. You've been getting slight pains, not full blown migraines but precursors. Like threats. But no vibrations and no voices. You bend down and throw on your clothes. Your eye catches the little piece of toilet paper that's stuck on one of the branches to your tree. It's been there all day. This morning you woke up to the house having been TP-ed. Along with a very nice cuss word spray-painted on your side of the house. Not to mention the prank calls. The maid is the only who always answers the phone so always has to deal with whatever idiots are trying to bother you. Sally can't afford a cleanup crew so it was up to the help, him and you to clean as best you could. Seems like the novelty of your homecoming hasn't worn off. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>A knock on your door, “Miss? Supper is served.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>A knock on your door, “Mister? Supper is served.”<</if>> You button your pants and go to the dining room. [[NEXT->Page 256]] </h3>

<h3>“...ass.” “Percy, language,” Sally says. <<audio "gothic" loop play>> Percy shoves a forkful of macaroni into his mouth, in between chews he responds, “ass is not a swear word it's anatomy.” “Yes and I suppose you know all about anatomy given your studious nature,” Sally says sarcastically. Percy swallows, “of course I do. Especially female anatomy.” He wiggles his eyebrows. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Sally shoots him a look, “your sister is eating. And so am I. Please try to be appropriate.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Sally shoots him a look, “your brother is eating. And so am I. Please try to be appropriate.”<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“What?” Percy points his fork to you, “she's eighteen. She should know about these stuff. Do you think she'll be a virgin forever?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“What?” Percy points his fork to you, “he's eighteen. He should know about these stuff. Do you think he'll be a virgin forever?”<</if>> “Percy,” Sally scolds. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“That is if she isn't already,” he smirks at you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“That is if he isn't already,” he smirks at you.<</if>> <<if $nickname>>Sally sighs, closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Tell me $nickname, did you get freaky with the other patients at the loony bin?”<<elseif not $nickname>>Sally sighs, closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Tell me $name, did you get freaky with the other patients at the loony bin?”<</if>> “Percival I will shove an onion in your mouth if this topic isn't dropped,” Sally threatens. You sip your water. <hr>\ * [[“Yeah I did we made a snuff film.”]] * [[“Why? Are your Freudian issues flaring up again?”]] * [[“Sally shove it up his ass instead.”]] * [[Don't say anything.]] </h3>

<h3>“Sold it for a bar of chocolate,” you retort. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Percy laughs, shoving more macaroni in his mouth. “Sold yourself short sister, if you would've called me we could've turned a nice profit.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Percy laughs, shoving more macaroni in his mouth. “Sold yourself short brother, if you would've called me we could've turned a nice profit.”<</if>> “I'll make sure for next time,” you smirk. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> “Can you two please stop?” Sally says. Percy salutes you and reaches over to the salt shaker. All three of you are quiet for a second, chews and utensil scrapes. <<if $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$nickname I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<<elseif not $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$name I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<</if>> You notice he didn't mention Percy, who is moving his food around his plate. Oblivious. Since the night you went to the movies, every time Sally sees you he's apologized. It was after all his idea and he left minutes in. “Ever since you've been back I feel we haven't spent as much time together as we used to and I'm sorry for that,” Sally continues. Percy scoffs and sucks on the cheese on his fork as he looks from Sally to you and back. <hr>\ * [[“It's alright.”]] * [[“I didn't even notice.”]] * [[“Can you stop apologizing?”]] * [[“We'll go to the movies again.”]] * [[“Yeah you're right it was your fault.”]] </h3>

<h3>“We'll have to see what magazines you 'celebrate palm Sunday' with Percy.” “Oof,” Percy smiles, and shoves more food into his mouth. “See that Sal? I'm not the only inappropriate one here.” <<set $PercyBond += 1>> “Might be a genetic thing, which apparently is your thing Oedipus,” you snark. “Can you two shelve this comment for family therapy?” Sally asks. Percy salutes you and reaches over to the salt shaker. All three of you are quiet for a second, chews and utensil scrapes. <<if $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$nickname I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<<elseif not $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$name I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<</if>> You notice he didn't mention Percy, who is moving his food around his plate. Oblivious. Since the night you went to the movies, every time Sally sees you he's apologized. It was after all his idea and he left minutes in. “Ever since you've been back I feel we haven't spent as much time together as we used to and I'm sorry for that,” Sally continues. Percy scoffs and sucks on the cheese on his fork as he looks from Sally to you and back. <hr>\ * [[“It's alright.”]] * [[“I didn't even notice.”]] * [[“Can you stop apologizing?”]] * [[“We'll go to the movies again.”]] * [[“Yeah you're right it was your fault.”]] </h3>

<h3>“He's a big enough asshole for it to fit.” Percy gasps and puts his hand to his mouth, “what company have you've been keeping up with to speak such things, lovely Crazypants?” “Unfortunately I think you've infected me dear brother,” you retort. “Can we leave any talk about anuses to times when we aren't eating?” Sally asks. Percy salutes you and reaches over to the salt shaker. All three of you are quiet for a second, chews and utensil scrapes. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> <<if $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$nickname I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<<elseif not $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$name I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<</if>> You notice he didn't mention Percy, who is moving his food around his plate. Oblivious. Since the night you went to the movies, every time Sally sees you he's apologized. It was after all his idea and he left minutes in. “Ever since you've been back I feel we haven't spent as much time together as we used to and I'm sorry for that,” Sally continues. Percy scoffs and sucks on the cheese on his fork as he looks from Sally to you and back. <hr>\ * [[“It's alright.”]] * [[“I didn't even notice.”]] * [[“Can you stop apologizing?”]] * [[“We'll go to the movies again.”]] * [[“Yeah you're right it was your fault.”]] </h3>

<h3>You just look at him from under your eyelashes, you mouth closed. Percy pouts, “booooo, you're boring.” He shoves food into his pouty mouth. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You could at least cuss me out sister,” he suggests.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You could at least cuss me out brother,” he suggests.<</if>> “Percy leave $name, alone,” Sally says. Percy salutes you and reaches over to the salt shaker. All three of you are quiet for a second, chews and utensil scrapes. <<if $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$nickname I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<<elseif not $nickname>>Covering his mouth as he eats, Sally mutters, “$name I am sorry I left so early. I really did want to spend the night watching a movie with you.”<</if>> You notice he didn't mention Percy, who is moving his food around his plate. Oblivious. Since the night you went to the movies, every time Sally sees you he's apologized. It was after all his idea and he left minutes in. “Ever since you've been back I feel we haven't spent as much time together as we used to and I'm sorry for that,” Sally continues. Percy scoffs and sucks on the cheese on his fork as he looks from Sally to you and back. <hr>\ * [[“It's alright.”]] * [[“I didn't even notice.”]] * [[“Can you stop apologizing?”]] * [[“We'll go to the movies again.”]] * [[“Yeah you're right it was your fault.”]] </h3>

<h3>“Really?” he asks, uncertain. You nod, and return his smile. “I know you're busy and that you wanted to be there with me.” Sally looks relieved and takes a hearty bite of his food. Percy rolls his eyes but doesn't make any comments. You munch slowly, the food tastes odd. It's been tasting odd all month and you're almost positive it's because it taste cheap. You saw a bag from the dollar store. The cook tried to mask the taste with spices but all it does is make it taste like flavoured processed chemicals. “Percy said that Imre Duran drove you home,” Sally says out of nowhere. “I did say that didn't I? I'm such a gossipy bitch,” Percy muses. “Yeah, why?”you ask. Sally takes a sip of wine, “mmmm, for no reason. Nia and Lorcan Stark were also in the car right?” You nod, unsure of where he's going with this. “Well... maybe you should invite your friends to dinner,” Sally suggests. Percy must notice the look on your face because he laughs into his wine. “They aren't my friends,” you say. Sally gently chews and says behind his hand, “you say that but they've been mentioned a lot in relation to you lately, haven't they? I'm not sure what teens do nowadays but if you hang out enough times at a certain point you must be friends, no?” He looks from you to Percy who nods mockingly. You sip your water. “Maybe you could invite them to dinner?” You $habit and stare at your plate. “Maybe one at least?” “Oh for fuck's sake oblivious dick head,” Percy mutters. Sally glares at Percy. “You and I will talk later,” he seethes with anger. Percy returns the glare. Sally glances back at you, “it was just a suggestion sweetheart, you don't need to.” You're not used to talking to Sally about your 'friendships' and worst of all when these 'friends' aren't friends and you feel a different way about each of them. Imagine... <hr>\ * [[Imre Duran.]] * [[Nia Mir.]] * [[Lorcan Stark.]] * [[No one.]] </h3>

<h3>“You didn't?” he asks, looking slightly hurt. You shrug. “The movie was entertaining and then I got to talking to other people so...” you trail off. Sally looks like he wants to ask more but instead he takes a bite off his plate. Percy curls his lips but doesn't make any comments. You munch slowly, the food tastes odd. It's been tasting odd all month and you're almost positive it's because it taste cheap. You saw a bag from the dollar store. The cook tried to mask the taste with spices but all it does is make it taste like flavoured processed chemicals. “Percy said that Imre Duran drove you home,” Sally says out of nowhere. “I did say that didn't I? I'm such a gossipy bitch,” Percy muses. “Yeah, why?”you ask. Sally takes a sip of wine, “mmmm, for no reason. Nia and Lorcan Stark were also in the car right?” You nod, unsure of where he's going with this. “Well... maybe you should invite your friends to dinner,” Sally suggests. Percy must notice the look on your face because he laughs into his wine. “They aren't my friends,” you say. Sally gently chews and says behind his hand, “you say that but they've been mentioned a lot in relation to you lately, haven't they? I'm not sure what teens do nowadays but if you hang out enough times at a certain point you must be friends, no?” He looks from you to Percy who nods mockingly. You sip your water. “Maybe you could invite them to dinner?” You $habit and stare at your plate. “Maybe one at least?” “Oh for fuck's sake oblivious dick head,” Percy mutters. Sally glares at Percy. “You and I will talk later,” he seethes with anger. Percy returns the glare. Sally glances back at you, “it was just a suggestion sweetheart, you don't need to.” You're not used to talking to Sally about your 'friendships' and worst of all when these 'friends' aren't friends and you feel a different way about each of them. Imagine... <hr>\ * [[Imre Duran.]] * [[Nia Mir.]] * [[Lorcan Stark.]] * [[No one.]] </h3>

<h3>“What?” Sally asks. You exhale loudly through your nose, “you do this all the time, you think you've offended me so you keep going on about how sorry you are when the first time was enough.” “Wow,” Percy says with an incredulous smile, looking between you two. Sally looks utterly confused that you would ever even think of taking that tone with him. “You've never spoken to me like that $name,” he says gruffly. You shake your head and look down at your plate, “just forget about it. I have a headache.” “Oh! If you want I could give you some aspirin?” he offers. You decline. Sally looks worried but eats. Percy deflates and makes a noise with his mouth but doesn't comment. You don't know what came over you. You have never spoken to Sally like that. You let the moment pass and spear more macaronis with your fork. You munch slowly, the food tastes odd. It's been tasting odd all month and you're almost positive it's because it taste cheap. You saw a bag from the dollar store. The cook tried to mask the taste with spices but all it does is make it taste like flavoured processed chemicals. “Percy said that Imre Duran drove you home,” Sally says out of nowhere. “I did say that didn't I? I'm such a gossipy bitch,” Percy muses. “Yeah, why?”you ask. Sally takes a sip of wine, “mmmm, for no reason. Nia and Lorcan Stark were also in the car right?” You nod, unsure of where he's going with this. “Well... maybe you should invite your friends to dinner,” Sally suggests. Percy must notice the look on your face because he laughs into his wine. “They aren't my friends,” you say. Sally gently chews and says behind his hand, “you say that but they've been mentioned a lot in relation to you lately, haven't they? I'm not sure what teens do nowadays but if you hang out enough times at a certain point you must be friends, no?” He looks from you to Percy who nods mockingly. You sip your water. “Maybe you could invite them to dinner?” You $habit and stare at your plate. “Maybe one at least?” “Oh for fuck's sake oblivious dick head,” Percy mutters. Sally glares at Percy. “You and I will talk later,” he seethes with anger. Percy returns the glare. Sally glances back at you, “it was just a suggestion sweetheart, you don't need to.” You're not used to talking to Sally about your 'friendships' and worst of all when these 'friends' aren't friends and you feel a different way about each of them. Imagine... <hr>\ * [[Imre Duran.]] * [[Nia Mir.]] * [[Lorcan Stark.]] * [[No one.]] </h3>

<h3>“You'd want to?” he asks, hopeful. You grin, “of course I would. I love spending time with you.” Sally's smile breaks across his face and he reaches out his hand to you across the table, palm up. You grasp his hand and squeeze. He lets got and takes a big bite of his food. Percy makes a vomit gesture but he makes no additional comments. You munch slowly, the food tastes odd. It's been tasting odd all month and you're almost positive it's because it taste cheap. You saw a bag from the dollar store. The cook tried to mask the taste with spices but all it does is make it taste like flavoured processed chemicals. “Percy said that Imre Duran drove you home,” Sally says out of nowhere. “I did say that didn't I? I'm such a gossipy bitch,” Percy muses. “Yeah, why?”you ask. Sally takes a sip of wine, “mmmm, for no reason. Nia and Lorcan Stark were also in the car right?” You nod, unsure of where he's going with this. “Well... maybe you should invite your friends to dinner,” Sally suggests. Percy must notice the look on your face because he laughs into his wine. “They aren't my friends,” you say. Sally gently chews and says behind his hand, “you say that but they've been mentioned a lot in relation to you lately, haven't they? I'm not sure what teens do nowadays but if you hang out enough times at a certain point you must be friends, no?” He looks from you to Percy who nods mockingly. You sip your water. “Maybe you could invite them to dinner?” You $habit and stare at your plate. “Maybe one at least?” “Oh for fuck's sake oblivious dick head,” Percy mutters. Sally glares at Percy. “You and I will talk later,” he seethes with anger. Percy returns the glare. Sally glances back at you, “it was just a suggestion sweetheart, you don't need to.” You're not used to talking to Sally about your 'friendships' and worst of all when these 'friends' aren't friends and you feel a different way about each of them. Imagine... <hr>\ * [[Imre Duran.]] * [[Nia Mir.]] * [[Lorcan Stark.]] * [[No one.]] </h3>

<h3>“What did you just say?” Sally blinks. “Oh my god,” Percy's eyes widen but a smile quivers on his lips. You begin to groan which ends up sounding like a growl, “you made me go to that fucking theatre and then ditched me not even thirty minutes in! Who's fault is it but yours Salvatore?” Sally blinks rapidly like he can't believe what he's hearing from you. “Never in your life have you been so rude to me, $name. What's gotten into you?” he asks, his voice slightly raised. You shake your head and look down at your plate, “let's just move on from this, please. It's just a headache that's giving me a bad mood.” “Oh! If you want I could give you some aspirin?” he offers. You decline. Sally looks worried but eats. “Really?” Percy asks. “$capitalheshe,” he points at you, “swore at you and you're not going to say anything?” Sally looks at Percy over the rim of his wineglass, “Percy eat your food.” Percy deflates and stabs his fork into his food, slamming it into his mouth and chewing quickly. You don't know what came over you. You have never spoken to Sally like that. You let the moment pass and spear more macaronis with your fork. You munch slowly, the food taste odd. It's been tasting odd all month and you're almost positive it's because it taste cheap. You saw a bag from the dollar store. The cook tried to mask the taste with spices but all it does is make it taste like flavoured processed chemicals. “Percy said that Imre Duran drove you home,” Sally says out of nowhere. “I did say that didn't I? I'm such a gossipy bitch,” Percy muses. “Yeah, why?”you ask. Sally takes a sip of wine, “mmmm, for no reason. Nia and Lorcan Stark were also in the car right?” You nod, unsure of where he's going with this. “Well... maybe you should invite your friends to dinner,” Sally suggests. Percy must notice the look on your face because he laughs into his wine. “They aren't my friends,” you say. Sally gently chews and says behind his hand, “you say that but they've been mentioned a lot in relation to you lately, haven't they? I'm not sure what teens do nowadays but if you hang out enough times at a certain point you must be friends, no?” He looks from you to Percy who nods mockingly. You sip your water. “Maybe you could invite them to dinner?” You $habit and stare at your plate. “Maybe one at least?” “Oh for fuck's sake oblivious dick head,” Percy mutters. Sally glares at Percy. “You and I will talk later,” he seethes with anger. Percy returns the glare. Sally glances back at you, “it was just a suggestion sweetheart, you don't need to.” You're not used to talking to Sally about your 'friendships' and worst of all when these 'friends' aren't friends and you feel a different way about each of them. Imagine... <hr>\ * [[Imre Duran.]] * [[Nia Mir.]] * [[Lorcan Stark.]] * [[No one.]] </h3>

<h3>Almost larger than life. Sitting here with you and your siblings. The jokes he'd make. The charisma. He'd be like a magnetic field. Perhaps, livening up this dreary place. Or perhaps he'd be repelled by what he sees. However, you find the thought of his presence not entirely disagreeable. You can admit... he is sort of fun. <<if $imremovies>>You remember how the moonlight played off his eyelashes when you were talking.<<elseif $niamovies>>There'd be less awkward silences that's for sure.<<elseif $lorcanmovies>>There'd be less awkward silences that's for sure.<<elseif $imrefriend && $imremovies>>There'd be less awkward silences that's for sure.<</if>> <<if $nickname>>“Anyway $nickname can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<<elseif not $nickname>>“Anyway $name can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<</if>> “What do you mean? There's three seats right there,” Sally points to the seat next to Percy, the seat across from him and the seat next to you which used to be his old seat. Percy doesn't look at the seats, his eyes firmly on Sally, hard eyes that seem out of place for his usual expressions. “Those seats are taken,” he says slowly. Sally sighs and asks, “taken by who Percy? No one sits in them anymore.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and add in a louder voice, “no one is coming for dinner anyway so what's the point in having this disc—“ “That's not the fucking point and you know that. Everyone wants to act like Orla's gone on vacation and not dead. No one talks about her and that's fine but that was her seat and that should be respected,” Percy rants. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, “I'm not trying to forget about her but we all have to move on don't we? We can't live in 1992 forever.” “I'm not living anywhere! But ok what about mom? She's still alive she's in this damn house right now!“ You push your plate away, there's no point in trying to calm them especially if they've decided to get into //this//. “But has she ever come down in all this time Percy?! She's locked herself away like a hermit, deciding to let herself die because her favourite child died!“ Sally explodes. Percy grabs his wineglass and looks like he's about to throw it at Sally. With an enraged expression he yells, “ORLA WAS NOT HER FAVOURITE CHILD!“ “Percy put the glass down...” you begin to say when you catch the figure at the edge of your vision standing in the doors. [[NEXT->Page 257]] </h3>

<h3>Right out of a black and white film. Sitting here with you and your siblings. Like she used to do. Her quiet elegance. Her cool diplomacy, she could stop any fight if she so chose. She'd bring order to a disordered world and she's so good you wouldn't even know she's doing it. You... miss her. <<if $niamovies>>You haven't forgotten the glow of her lips in the night when you spoke.<<elseif $imremovies>>She'd distract you all from your quarrels and issues.<<elseif $lorcanmovies>>She'd distract you all from your quarrels and issues.<<elseif $niafriend && $niamovies>>She'd distract you all from your quarrels and issues.<</if>> <<if $nickname>>“Anyway $nickname can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<<elseif not $nickname>>“Anyway $name can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<</if>> “What do you mean? There's three seats right there,” Sally points to the seat next to Percy, the seat across from him and the seat next to you which used to be his old seat. Percy doesn't look at the seats, his eyes firmly on Sally, hard eyes that seem out of place for his usual expressions. “Those seats are taken,” he says slowly. Sally sighs and asks, “taken by who Percy? No one sits in them anymore.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and add in a louder voice, “no one is coming for dinner anyway so what's the point in having this disc—“ “That's not the fucking point and you know that. Everyone wants to act like Orla's gone on vacation and not dead. No one talks about her and that's fine but that was her seat and that should be respected,” Percy rants. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, “I'm not trying to forget about her but we all have to move on don't we? We can't live in 1992 forever.” “I'm not living anywhere! But ok what about mom? She's still alive she's in this damn house right now!“ You push your plate away, there's no point in trying to calm them especially if they've decided to get into //this//. “But has she ever come down in all this time Percy?! She's locked herself away like a hermit, deciding to let herself die because her favourite child died!“ Sally explodes. Percy grabs his wineglass and looks like he's about to throw it at Sally. With an enraged expression he yells, “ORLA WAS NOT HER FAVOURITE CHILD!“ “Percy put the glass down...” you begin to say when you catch the figure at the edge of your vision standing in the doors. [[NEXT->Page 257]] </h3>

<h3>A whirlwind of chaos. Sitting here with you and your siblings. He'd fit right in with the anger and battle in this house. But his way of handling them would bring a sort of joy that this place hasn't felt for so long. Even in misery and whether he intends it or not, he make create laughter. You... might... not hate to have him here for an hour... maybe. <<if $lorcanmovies>>You can replicate to exactitude the way the lights from the moon shined through his hair, making it look white when you talked.<<elseif $imremovies>>At least Percy would have someone else to annoy that wouldn't piss off Sally.<<elseif $niamovies>>At least Percy would have someone else to annoy that wouldn't piss off Sally.<<elseif $lorcanfriend && $lorcanmovies>>At least Percy would have someone else to annoy that wouldn't piss off Sally.<</if>> <<if $nickname>>“Anyway $nickname can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<<elseif not $nickname>>“Anyway $name can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<</if>> “What do you mean? There's three seats right there,” Sally points to the seat next to Percy, the seat across from him and the seat next to you which used to be his old seat. Percy doesn't look at the seats, his eyes firmly on Sally, hard eyes that seem out of place for his usual expressions. “Those seats are taken,” he says slowly. Sally sighs and asks, “taken by who Percy? No one sits in them anymore.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and add in a louder voice, “no one is coming for dinner anyway so what's the point in having this disc—“ “That's not the fucking point and you know that. Everyone wants to act like Orla's gone on vacation and not dead. No one talks about her and that's fine but that was her seat and that should be respected,” Percy rants. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, “I'm not trying to forget about her but we all have to move on don't we? We can't live in 1992 forever.” “I'm not living anywhere! But ok what about mom? She's still alive she's in this damn house right now!“ You push your plate away, there's no point in trying to calm them especially if they've decided to get into //this//. “But has she ever come down in all this time Percy?! She's locked herself away like a hermit, deciding to let herself die because her favourite child died!“ Sally explodes. Percy grabs his wineglass and looks like he's about to throw it at Sally. With an enraged expression he yells, “ORLA WAS NOT HER FAVOURITE CHILD!“ “Percy put the glass down...” you begin to say when you catch the figure at the edge of your vision standing in the doors. [[NEXT->Page 257]] </h3>

<h3>“Mother,” you whisper. Percy lowers the wineglass, his mouth hanging open. Sally looks like he's seen a ghost. He gets up and says, “Mother, it's such a welcome surprise that you would join us.” She stands there like a statue. Her arms pressed to her sides. Her hair hanging limply on her scalp, dandruff sprinkled throughout. Her hair looks shiny from all the oil. She looks blankly at Sally, as if he's speaking another language. You remember thinking her so tall. She wears a ratty old robe, decorated with drawings of peacocks. Fringe at the end of the long sleeves and the bottom of the robe that drags along the floor. Underneath she has on a long white linen nightgown. Gray with age. She sways as she walks into the room. Sally remains standing, his hands on the table as he and Percy follow her with their eyes. She walks behind you and you try to twist your head to see. She stops close to Sally and looks at the things on the table. “Would you like to eat? We can get you a plate?” Sally offers. Her sunken eyes blink at the tablecloth. They slowly slide to the centerpiece. She reaches out and grabs the wine bottle. She moves it back and forth, then brings it to her nose and sniffs. You look at Sally and then at Percy but both of them are riveted to Mother. [[NEXT->Page 258]] </h3>

<h3>You have no friends and you don't particurlarly mind not having to endure time with Imre, Nia and Lorcan more than necessary. <<if $nickname>>“Anyway $nickname can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<<elseif not $nickname>>“Anyway $name can't have someone over for dinner because they wouldn't have anywhere to sit,” Percy announces.<</if>> “What do you mean? There's three seats right there,” Sally points to the seat next to Percy, the seat across from him and the seat next to you which used to be his old seat. Percy doesn't look at the seats, his eyes firmly on Sally, hard eyes that seem out of place for his usual expressions. “Those seats are taken,” he says slowly. Sally sighs and asks, “taken by who Percy? No one sits in them anymore.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and add in a louder voice, “no one is coming for dinner anyway so what's the point in having this disc—“ “That's not the fucking point and you know that. Everyone wants to act like Orla's gone on vacation and not dead. No one talks about her and that's fine but that was her seat and that should be respected,” Percy rants. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, “I'm not trying to forget about her but we all have to move on don't we? We can't live in 1992 forever.” “I'm not living anywhere! But ok what about mom? She's still alive she's in this damn house right now!“ You push your plate away, there's no point in trying to calm them especially if they've decided to get into //this//. “But has she ever come down in all this time Percy?! She's locked herself away like a hermit, deciding to let herself die because her favourite child died!“ Sally explodes. Percy grabs his wineglass and looks like he's about to throw it at Sally. With an enraged expression he yells, “ORLA WAS NOT HER FAVOURITE CHILD!“ “Percy put the glass down...” you begin to say when you catch the figure at the edge of your vision standing in the doors. [[NEXT->Page 257]] </h3>

<h3>She brings the bottle up to her mouth and sucks but nothing comes out. She brings the bottle down and looks at it almost like it personally tricked her. Percy gets up then and says, “we have more in the kitchen, I'll get it for you mom.” He quickly leaves the table and it's just you and Sally looking at Prudence Crown. Sally begins to sit down but stops himself. He lays a hand on Mother's arm and gives her a small smile. “Mother, how have you been?” She lets the bottle fall from her hand. It clatters against the table, a few droplets of red wine staining the tablecloth. “Oops,” Sally says jokingly and picks up the bottle, setting it straight up and away from her. “We haven't seen you in a while,” Sally continues. He pushes his plate closer to her, “are you sure you only want wine? Pasta is your favourite, right? Well this macaroni is delicious.” She continues to stare at the tablecloth, blinking slowly. “Will you come down tomorrow? I'm sure all of us would love to see you when we aren't fighting haha,” he says, his face becoming distressed. Sally begins looking around for anything to comment on and his eyes lock on you, oh god. He smiles and gestures to you, “Mother, $name is back. Remember that you and Father wanted $himher back?” Mother doesn't move her eyes away from the spot on the table. Sally gives you a look, a pleading look, a desperate look. It says, 'say something.' <hr>\ * [[“Hi, Mother.”]] * [[“It's so nice to see you.”]] * [[“Are you ok?”]] * [[If you could say what you wanted to say to this bitc...]] * [[You have nothing to say.]] </h3>

<h3>“It's me,” you say tentively. Your voice sounds strange, it's like you're ten all over again. She still doesn't react. “You're not going to say 'hi,' Mother?” Sally tries once more. The only thing that exists is that spot on the table. Percy walks in and you stifle a sigh of relief. He walks over to Mother and hands her a full and uncorked bottle. He smiles, a smile you hardly ever see. A gentle one like a child cuddling with an animal. “Here you go mom. Do you want me to help you upstairs?” She takes the bottle, moves past Percy and shuffles out without a word or a glance at her children. All three of you remain motionless as you watch her departing figure. The stairs creep gently under her malnourished body. You hear shuffling, her feet drag along the wooden floors. Then a door creaks open upstairs before slamming shut. When that happens it's like a spell s broken. Sally sits back down and Percy goes to his chair. Shoulders you didn't know where tensed, lower and you feel like the room has more air. “Like I said,” Percy boasts. [[NEXT->Page 259]] </h3>

<h3>“It's been too long,” you say softly. It sounds fake, your voice. Like the type you'd use to get something out of someone. She still doesn't react. “You're not going to say how much you missed $himher?” Sally tries once more. The only thing that exists is that spot on the table. Percy walks in and you stifle a sigh of relief. He walks over to Mother and hands her a full and uncorked bottle. He smiles, a smile you hardly ever see. A gentle one like a child cuddling with an animal. “Here you go mom. Do you want me to help you upstairs?” She takes the bottle, moves past Percy and shuffles out without a word or a glance at her children. All three of you remain motionless as you watch her departing figure. The stairs creep gently under her malnourished body. You hear shuffling, her feet drag along the wooden floors. Then a door creaks open upstairs before slamming shut. When that happens it's like a spell s broken. Sally sits back down and Percy goes to his chair. Shoulders you didn't know where tensed, lower and you feel like the room has more air. “Like I said,” Percy boasts. [[NEXT->Page 259]] </h3>

<h3>“You just look—“ you say and Sally shoots you a warning look. “I mean that I haven't seen you around that much is all,” you try to save it. She doesn't react. “You're not going to say what you've been doing, Mother?” Sally tries once more. The only thing that exists is that spot on the table. Percy walks in and you stifle a sigh of relief. He walks over to Mother and hands her a full and uncorked bottle. He smiles, a smile you hardly ever see. A gentle one like a child cuddling with an animal. “Here you go mom. Do you want me to help you upstairs?” She takes the bottle, moves past Percy and shuffles out without a word or a glance at her children. All three of you remain motionless as you watch her departing figure. The stairs creep gently under her malnourished body. You hear shuffling, her feet drag along the wooden floors. Then a door creaks open upstairs before slamming shut. When that happens it's like a spell s broken. Sally sits back down and Percy goes to his chair. Shoulders you didn't know where tensed, lower and you feel like the room has more air. “Like I said,” Percy boasts. [[NEXT->Page 259]] </h3>

<h3>You haven't even thought it was a possibility to see her. There's nothing to speak about. Sally gives you the same look, tilting his head but you shake yours. You don't know if you'll ever have something to say to her again but you do know that right now you don't. “$name has a bit of a headache, don't mind $himher“ Sally apologizes. The only thing that exists to her is that spot on the table. Percy walks in and you stifle a sigh of relief. He walks over to Mother and hands her a full and uncorked bottle. He smiles, a smile you hardly ever see. A gentle one like a child cuddling with an animal. “Here you go mom. Do you want me to help you upstairs?” She takes the bottle, moves past Percy and shuffles out without a word or a glance at her children. All three of you remain motionless as you watch her departing figure. The stairs creep gently under her malnourished body. You hear shuffling, her feet drag along the wooden floors. Then a door creaks open upstairs before slamming shut. When that happens it's like a spell s broken. Sally sits back down and Percy goes to his chair. You don't understand why she effects them so. “Like I said,” Percy boasts. [[NEXT->Page 259]] </h3>

<h3>You'd like to curse at her, tell her how much of a bad mother she's been. Hurl it all at her. But what good would it do? She can't hear you. So instead you just glare, your teeth pressing painfully against each other. You breathing becoming ragged. She doesn't react. Now you feel like you should scream at her. Sally notices your expression and quickly says, “I'm sure once you've slept you and $name can catch up.” Sally expertly ignores the daggers you throw at him. The only thing that exists for her is that spot on the table. Percy walks in and you stifle a sigh of relief. He walks over to Mother and hands her a full and uncorked bottle. He smiles, a smile you hardly ever see. A gentle one like a child cuddling with an animal. “Here you go mom. Do you want me to help you upstairs?” She takes the bottle, moves past Percy and shuffles out without a word or a glance at her children. All three of you remain motionless as you watch her departing figure. The stairs creep gently under her malnourished body. You hear shuffling, her feet drag along the wooden floors. Then a door creaks open upstairs before slamming shut. When that happens it's like a spell s broken. Sally sits back down and Percy goes to his chair. You hadn't realized how strongly your nails were digging into the table. “Like I said,” Percy boasts. [[NEXT->Page 259]] </h3>

<h3>“How long has she been like this?” you ask. “Been like what? She's fine,” Percy insists. “Ever since Orla really. But it's just gotten worse and worse as the months have gone by,” Sally explains. Percy rolls his eyes and says in a exasperated tone, “Mother has always drank since we were kids. This is nothing new. She'll come out more one of these days.” Sally looks at Percy but doesn't say anything, resigning himself to just shaking his head. You sigh and look down at the spot your mother was looking at. A dash of red wine on a clean white cloth. //Mother licks the napkin and rubs it furiously on your sleeve.// //[[NEXT->Page 260]]// </h3>

<h3>//Spring 1979// <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this dress?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to these beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” She told you girls don't play around like boys. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this suit?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to these beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” You had asked for a glittery white dress and she yelled at you to never say something like that again. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this suit?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to this beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” She had said that only boys who were poor dirtied their clothes. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this suit?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to these beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” You had asked for a suit and she yelled at you to never say something like that again. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this dress?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to these beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” She told you girls don't play around like boys. You didn't understand what that meant. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ //It won't come out of the white. All it does is make the spot look wet with her spit. She huffs and stares at you irritated. “Do you know how much it cost Mother to buy this suit?” You shake your head. Mother's eye twitches and she roughly grabs at the sleeve again, pressing and moving the napkin down as hard as she can. “A lot of money. Too much money for you to think you can play your games with it on $name.” You wince as you feel the harsh rubbing on your skin. “Mommy,” you whine. “Mother,” she corrects you. You yelp as you feel a burn and try to move away but her ironclad grip is stronger. If she notices she's hurting you she doesn't stop. “It hurts,” you say. She raises a thin eyebrow at you, stopping the rubbing. “It's a good lesson, don't you think? Appreciating the things I buy for you. Appreciating having the face that you have, appreciating that I take time out of my day to take you to these beauty pageants, a good lesson isn't it?” She told you boys don't play around like girls. You didn't understand what that meant. “Well?” You nod, “yes Mother.”// [[NEXT->261]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You push your chair back. “I'm not hungry anymore,” you say. Sally glances down at your half filled plate and asks, “are you feeling well?” “I'm just going to go sleep it off,” you answer. He lets you go. “More for me!“ you hear Percy say delightedly. You shut your bedroom door behind you and lay down gently on your bed. You look up at the ceiling, trying to think of nothing. You find your thoughts are too difficult nowadays. Is this how it's like for normal people? You don't know how good you had it. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>You have an itch to smoke a cigarette. But Sally would smell it.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>You want to take a swing of your flask but it's empty, to refill it you'd have to go downstairs.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>Your hand twitches, you you'd like to hit something hard, but you're too lazy to clean up the blood.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>You think of the pill bottle in pocket of your jacket. Not yet. You have to make it last until the next refill. The urge is strong though.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You breathe in deeply through your mouth and then out. It's harder each time to clear your mind like this.<</if>> <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You could make a paper flower. But that requires you getting up and thinking. You don't want to be concious enough to think of all the ins and outs of folding the paper.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>You could do some pushups. But that requires you getting up and lately the pain doesn't outweigh the thoughts. You don't want to be concious.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>You could read something until your eyes droop. But you can't seem to shut off your brain enough to be immersed. You don't want to be concious.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>You could take up a charcoal and draw. But you can't of anything inspirational that could force your mind to shut off. You don't want to be concious.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>You could get a pencil and write something. But that feeds directly into your thoughts. You don't want to be concious.<</if>> You turn off the lamp, burrow under the covers and force yourself to sleep. [[NEXT->Page 262]] </h3>

<h3>//Early October//<<audio "gothic" stop>> The phone has been ringing off and on for the past ten minutes. You think. You've been semi-concious for like an hour so it might've have been for longer. You vaguely wonder why the maid isn't picking up. Maybe she finally quit. The shrill sound of the ringing prevents your sleepy brain from sleeping and with a groan like that of an old man everytime he gets up, you sit up, eyes glazed with sleep, searching with your feet along the floor for your slippers. The phone stops ringing and you think of laying back down when it picks up again. Not finding any slippers you lay your feet on the cold floor and stumble to the door. You feel the walls and then the railing on the stairs to guide your filmy eyes. Your hip hits the small table where the telephone is kept. The ringing is so loud your teeth chatter. You feel along the table blindly for the handset. You pick it up and bring it to your ear. “Hello? Crown residence, $name speaking.” Sort of muffled, you hear the voice of... <hr>\ * [[Imre.->Imrecall]] * [[Lorcan.->Lorcancall]] </h3>

<h3>“Hello, $name. How are you doing this fine morning?” Imre's molasses voice drips through the line. You touch the inside of you ear to see if it's sticky. “I don't know yet, I just woke up,” you answer. <<set $imrecall to true>> “Oh, did I wake you? I'm sorry it's just that most people I know are up by noon,” he replies with what you feel is a smirk. You yawn away from the handset. “Are you trying to call me lazy?” “Oh I wouldn't dream of it.” “Uh huh.” You hear him chuckle through the static. He doesn't say anything and neither do you. It's quiet for a moment and you hope he didn't call for a social reason because you're not that good at maintaing conversation. “As lovely as it is to hear your voice when the day is still young, I called for two reasons,” he explains. He lets the suspense linger for a moment and you rub your eye. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “It's nice to hear your voice too.”]] * [[♡ “Do you know how easily you irritate?”]] * [[⟡ “So... what is it?”]] * [[“Goodbye Imre.”]] </h3>

<h3>“I've been calling for like ten fucking minutes, why do you pay Lily for?” Lorcan rants into the phone. You move the handset away from your ear and wince, “who's Lily?” “Your maid? The girl who picks up the phone at your house? She's been working there for like five years?” he says defensively. <<set $LorcanRF += 1>> You yawn loudly and respond, “oh her. I don't think I've ever heard her name actually.” “And then you say you aren't a spoiled brat,” he chides. “I never said I wasn't. You just think I'm a hypocrite.”<<set $lorcancall to true>> “Ugh, I don't like agreeing with you.” You hear something clank loudly in the background. Lorcan curses and seems to be trying to untangle something as he murmers maybes and 'if I put it throw heres.' Knowing him he might've called just to tell you he hopes you have a bad day. “Ah fuck.... hey you,” he addresses you, “I didn't call for a chat I called you—“ you hear him curse again. You hear a loud crash and move the handset away from your ear. Silence on the other end. You hear Lorcan groan and mumble a lot of 'fucks.' <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Are you okay?”]] * [[♡ “Aww you poor fool.”]] * [[⟡ “You should probably call back later.”]] * [[“Ok, bye.”]] </h3>

<h3>Before we begin. $name Crown is... <<cycle '$MC' autoselect>><<option 'cis female.'>><<option 'trans female.'>><<option 'cis male.'>><<option 'trans male.'>><<option 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>><<option 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Side Quests 2]] </h3>

<h3>“This early I mean,” you say awkwardly. You're eyes widen at what you just said and you fumble out, “you're voice sounds good all the time, it's not like it's annoying and it's not like I pay attention to your voice that closely but it's not a bad sounding voice.” <<set $callfriendlyimre to true>> You hear a rustle on the other end, “what?” You hit your palm to your forehead. What the hell was that? He caught you too early. “Nothing. I'm talking to talk. Ignore me, why did you call?” you try to change the topic. You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “No, actually I'd like to hear more about how pretty you think my voice is,” he teases. You smile in spite of your awkwardness, moving your tongue behind your bottom lip, “I never said pretty.” “Oh, but you were getting to it, I'm sure.”<<set $ImreRF += 1>> “You complimented my voice first,” you retort. “Yes, I did, didn't I? It's a very good voice. One could say, a pretty one,” he admits with a light tone.<<if $handimre >> You remember how warm his hand felt in your own when he told you goodnight.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“But not you?” you say, not sure of what you're doing.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I don't know if it's a compliment for a guy to have a pretty voice,” you say, unsure of where you're leading with this.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Definitely me. Your voice is... very pleasant to me,” he concedes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Maybe to others but to me your voice is... very pleasant,” he concedes.<</if>> You smile moves higher and clear your throat, “back to the topic at hand, why did you call?” [[NEXT->Page 263]] </h3>

<h3>“I mean you just know how to press the perfect buttons to get me going this early,” you complain. <<set $calltantagimre to true>> You hear a snort, “I get you going? I didn't think you'd be so forward this early in our relationship.”<<set $ImreRA += 1>> You growl and try to clench your hand before unclenching it and reply, “one, that's not what I meant and you know that and two, we have NO relationship.” “One, I actually think you told me the truth for once and two, we'll just see about that,” he answers smugly. “Is this masturbatory fodder for you? To daily piss people off?” you spit. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “Now you're just being uncouth nena, I promise I only pleasure myself to your most dignified moments.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “Now you're just being uncouth nene, I promise I only pleasure myself to your most dignified moments.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “Now you're just being uncouth nene, I promise I only pleasure myself to your most dignified moments.”<</if>> Your stomach twitches. <<if $wallimre >>You can still feel his breath on your mouth when he pushed you against the wall.<</if>> You hope your glare reaches him all the way across town. He laughs and says, “I hope you know that was only a joke. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.” “You mind making me uncomfortable but not annoying me?” “The thing is my joke was intentional, I'm not trying to annoy you. Of course, how can I interact with you when you're waiting with a rock in your hand?” he asks. “Maybe you could stop fucking interacting with me so much,” you counsel. “That would make my life rather dim,” he admits. You look down, not knowing what to say to that except for damning him in your mind for provoking you and then doing a 180 with comments like that. You sigh, then say, “ok why did you decide to ruin my morning?” [[NEXT->Page 263]] </h3>

<h3>“As friendly as you are you wouldn't call me unless it's very interesting,” you add. Imre hums and replies, “I thought we were going to be friends, friends can call you each other out of interest you know.”<<set $callplatonicimre to true>> “Oh I know,” you lean on the table, “I just didn't think you were serious about that.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Pelada, I'm always serious about friendship. Especially with interesting characters makes for great networking,” he jests.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Pelado, I'm always serious about friendship. Especially with interesting characters makes for great networking,” he jests.<</if>> “Yep cause I've got great contacts. You know me, reigning at the social top,” you snark. You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “I knew my sixth sense didn't fail me when I felt someone was trying to take my place.” You let out a small laugh, “maybe we can co-rule.” “Quite diplomatic, I like it. I'll send the paperwork over to you today,” he says, his voice warm. <<set $ImreP += 1>> “I'll have my lawyer look it over,” you chuckle. He makes a noise in agreement. You say,”now that that's handled, why did you call?” [[NEXT->Page 263]] </h3>

<h3>“I'm hanging up now.”<<set $callnaurimre to true>> “Hey, could you humor me for a minute? I promise this will interest you,” he swears. You roll your eyes and move the handset to your other ear, “I don't think I'll be interested if you're trying to get me to beg you to tell me.” “I wouldn't say begging but rather trying to create dramatic tension, it's much more fun to deliver news that way,” he counters. “Not for me. Tell me now or I'll hang up, disconnect the line and not connect it for the rest of the day so you'll need to find a better audience,” you threaten in a monotone voice. You hear noise in the background of the call but you can't make it out. “The no-nonsense cop? I was right in allying myself with you.” You don't respond, your silence being answer enough. [[NEXT->Page 263]] </h3>

<h3>“Remember Candace?” You blink and say, “yeah I remember Candace.” “I talked to some people, her friends and they told me that the night she disappeared she was going to a party,” Imre explains. Your eyebrows rise, “a party?” “Yes. I tried to figure out who's party it was and where it would be but they didn't know. What her friends found odd is that she didn't invite them, said she couldn't.” Your eyebrows lower and your confusion rises. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?” Imre asks.<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?” Imre asks.<</if>> “You're like the most popular guy in town, you can't use your connections to figure out who's party it was?” you ask, your voice rising slightly. Imre doesn't respond right away. He clicks his tongue and replies, “I'm trying the best I can. But it was months ago, teenage minds don't hold onto much, at least this is something.” //Something, but not enough//, you think. You surprise yourself with how useless you find this information. It's almost demanding. Demanding more. “Everything just seems like it's going too slowly,” you intone. Imre chuckles, “yeah well this isn't a police procedural. Things don't magically get resolved in 45 minutes.” [[NEXT->Page 264]] </h3>

<h3>“It sounds like you're reporting live from a hurricane,” you joke. “Har har har, do you get paid to make shitty jokes?” he answers rapidly. You smile and reply, “how much do you think that joke would go for?” Lorcan takes a moment to answer you, he actually might be thinking about it. “I don't know like 5 cents?” <<set $callfriendlylorcan to true>> “You actually took time to answer me seriously? And offer me payment for my work? Who are you and what did you do to Lorcan?” you ask, a grin growing wider. “Oh my god shut up. You're the one always making jokes about everything. With that stupid smile I know you have on your face right now,” he grumbles. You laugh and shake your head, “you're the one who's also so angry at me. I'm not angry at you, at least not right now. Maybe if you stopped thinking all my jokes are at your expense I wouldn't take everything like a joke.” You hear a crackle of static and then he yells, “maybe if you didn't make it seem every joke is at my expense I wouldn't be so angry!“ “You'd still hate me though!“ “Yep!“ You snort, finding his little tantrums all bark but no bite. <<if $smilelorcan >> You can picture the brightness in his smile when he brought Percy in with you.<</if>> “You're like the angriest boy in town,” you say. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You hear another clang and then some heavy breathing. Lorcan swallows and says, “you're not far behind Miss 'I have a rap sheet longer than a forearm.'“<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You hear another clang and then some heavy breathing. Lorcan swallows and says, “you're not far behind Mister 'I have a rap sheet longer than a forearm.'“<</if>> You laugh incredulously, “didn't you set fire to Benny's Mechanic shop?” “That was never proven in a court of law,” he brags. Your face hurts from how long you've been smiling and you say, “ok sure. So why did you call me? To hear my lovely voice or what?” [[NEXT->Page 263*]] </h3>

<h3>“Did you intentionally call me when you're making yourself look stupid to brighten up my morning? You shouldn't have, I'm touched,” your voice raises in your sarcasm. “If you're so touched maybe you can do me a favour and throw yourself in front of car?” he responds aggresively. <<set $callantaglorcan to true>> You lick your lips, “you're losing your touch old sport. I think you've said that to me before.” You can practically see Lorcan rolling his eyes. “That's because you think I'm talking just to talk, if I want you to kill yourself why would I not keep saying that?” “I'm just saying,” you switch the handset to your other ear, “it loses it's potency. Maybe that's what you want. Maybe you don't actually want me to die. You're going limp Stark.” “Is that a dick joke?” he asks, the annoyance growing stronger in his voice. You cackle, “well if the glove fits....” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“You'd be lucky to get a dick like mine!“ he yells into the phone.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“Just because your dick is small doesn't mean mine is!“ he yells into the phone.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“Just because your dick is small doesn't mean mine is!“ he yells into the phone.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“You'd be lucky to get a dick like mine!“ he yells into the phone.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“You'd be lucky to get a dick like mine!“ he yells into the phone.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“Just because your dick is small doesn't mean mine is!“ he yells into the phone.<</if>> <<if $touchlorcan >>Your fingers clench, you swear you can still remember how the fabric of his jeans feel.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “So you do want to fuck me? A disgusting prospect I don't want my vagina to shrivel from disease,” you snark cruelly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “Is this your way of saying you want to see my dick? I get my appeal but one touch from you and it might fall off,” you snark cruelly.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “Is this your way of saying you want to see my dick? I get my appeal but one touch from you and it might fall off,” you snark cruelly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “So you do want to fuck me? A disgusting prospect I don't want my vagina to shrivel from disease,” you snark cruelly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “So you do want to fuck me? A disgusting prospect I don't want my vagina to shrivel from disease,” you snark cruelly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Your eyes widen before a smirk plays on your lips, you practically lick your teeth as you just got him perfectly where you want him. “Is this your way of saying you want to see my dick? I get my appeal but one touch from you and it might fall off,” you snark cruelly.<</if>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. vagina. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. dick. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. dick. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. vagina. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. vagina. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>The absolute quietness on the other end of the line is indicative of Lorcan's absolute rage. “Leave. your. dick. out. of. this. I. hate. you,” he enunciates slowly.<</if>> You burst out laughing, making sure that he hears you loud and clear. After making a good show of it for a minute straight you wipe the tears from your eyes and sigh contently. You can't tell how if love or hate that he seems like the only one who can make you truly laugh lately. “Ok, I'm done,” you say. “Now, why the fuck did you call me?” [[NEXT->Page 263*]] </h3>

<h3>“It looks like you're busy,” you note. “I'm fine and I don't want to have to call you twice, that's hearing your voice more than necessary,” he complains.<<set $LorcanP += 1>> You roll your eyes and ask for patience from whatever God is listenting. “I'm trying to wave the white flag here and you're making it impossible,” you respond. “And who asked you to? Did we agree on peace? The whole fucking point is that I don't want to be your friend or even be on friendly terms with you Crowny,” he assures drily.<<set $callplatoniclorcan to true>> You look down at your feet, you don't know if you should feel hurt or angry or tired. He's stubborn. “Ok, act however you want it'll just mean you're fighting with yourself,” you say. Lorcan laughs coldly, “yeah let's see how long your love and peace shtick lasts.” “Don't try reverse psychology with me Lorcan. Just to spite you I can become the face of civility for the next fifty years,” you answer. “Ugh“ he says and you hear him spit. Oh well, this is an up-hill battle. You wouldn't expect less from Lorcan Stark. “So.... why'd you call me?” [[NEXT->Page 263*]] </h3>

<h3>You take the phone away from your ear. You hear his voice loudly from the handset, his words audibe despite the instability of the phone line. “DON'T HANG UP IT'S FUCKING IMPORTANT YOU IDIOT!“ Against your better judgement you raise the handset to your ear and say sternly, “it better be Lorcan because I'm not going to stand here being insulted so you have about ten seconds to tell me why you called me or I'm hanging up and then leaving the telephone unhooked.” “Don't be so—“ <<set $callnaurlorcan to true>> “NINE.” “Are you serio—“ “EIGHT.” “OK!“ [[NEXT->Page 263*]] </h3>

<h3>“Have you heard from pretty boy?” Your eyebrows rise and you reply, “Imre? No, why?” Lorcan swears and says, “asshole told me he would call you. Anyway he talked to whoever the fuck this girl's friends were and they said she was at a party.” Your eyebrows rise further up your forehead, “what the hell are you saying right now?” “Do you speak English or not? The girl, what was her fucking name again? Something with a C.... Charity? Champagne?” Lorcan starts going on a list of names he knows that begin with the letter C. You close your eyes and say, “Candace. You mean Candace was going to a party before she was killed?” “Yeah that bitch, Candace. Anyway, the night she was totally munched on she said she was going to a super VIP party and didn't say anything else,” Lorcan explains. A party? You start to think about who's it could be. Imre is a big party planner but he's not the only one and his parties aren't VIP types, anyone and everyone comes to those. “HeLlOoooo Earth to Crowny,” Lorcan interrupts your thoughts. “Yeah, I'm here. I'm guessing Imre doesn't know who's party it was?” you ask. Lorcan snorts and says, “doesn't know or doesn't want to say.” The piques your interest. “You think he's not telling us things?” Lorcan's voice grows serious as he replies, “I think there's a lot that asshole isn't telling us Crowny.” [[NEXT->Page 264*]] </h3>

<h3>You inhale. “Is that all?” “No. Turn on a TV, channel 37,” he directs you. “What's channel 37?” He takes a second to answer, “have you ever watched the news?” Your face pinches and you reply, “this town has a news channel?” Imre lets out a poof of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and says, “see if you can find one, then call me back. Although make it quick because I'm on my way out.” The line clicks and then the dial tone drones on. You put the phone down and look around. Your mother's aversion to technology means that you don't even have a radio. You think back on the noises you heard from Percy's room the other day. You run up the stairs and stop in front of his door. You press your ear to it and listen. He's usually out by now but it doesn't hurt to make sure. You open the door and let it croak open. The room, as expected from Percy is a mess. Clothes strewn all over the floor to the point where it act like a floor itself, you can't even see the wood panelling underneath. It smells musty and there's a faint odour of something curdled. You look under his bed, push aside the mountain of clothes on his desk and open the closet. You find a small television there. A heavy thing though. You carry it out, and plug it into a socket. You turn the knob and it shows mere static.You play around with the atennae. It takes a few tries but you get a semi-clear image of a commercial. Something about refrigerators. You slowly turn the knob to channel 37. [[NEXT->Page 265]] </h3>

<h3>You chew on his words. “Alright thanks for the info.” “Wait! That's not all!“ he says before you hang up. “Watch the news.” “What news?” you ask. Lorcan makes an annoyed sound, “what do you mean 'what news'? The fucking news. Channel 37, the local news channel? Ringing any bells in that empty head of yours?” You squint and say, “no?” “Ugh,” he says and hangs up. You put the phone down and look around. Your mother's aversion to technology means that you don't even have a radio. You think back on the noises you heard from Percy's room the other day. You run up the stairs and stop in front of his door. You press your ear to it and listen. He's usually out by now but it doesn't hurt to make sure. You open the door and let it croak open. The room, as expected from Percy is a mess. Clothes strewn all over the floor to the point where it act like a floor itself, you can't even see the wood panelling underneath. It smells musty and there's a faint odour of something curdled. You look under his bed, push aside the mountain of clothes on his desk and open the closet. You find a small television there. A heavy thing though. You carry it out, and plug it into a socket. You turn the knob and it shows mere static.You play around with the atennae. It takes a few tries but you get a semi-clear image of a commercial. Something about refrigerators. You slowly turn the knob to channel 37. [[NEXT->Page 265]] </h3>

<h3>The image is shaky and split by a line of white static but you see a woman in a blue blazer with a matching skirt talking into a microphone. You turn the volume knob. //“...Jackson who was walking her dog when she came upon the body.”// An older lady you recognize as Miss Shirley Jackson, scoots up next to the reporter, her tiny Chihuahua trembling in her arms. The reporter says, //“Miss Jackson, please tell us how did you come upon the victim?”// She shoves the microphone in Miss Jackson's face. Miss Jackson pets her little dog and squints suspiciously at the camera, she begins to speak but her voice sounds faint and the reporter tells her to speak up. Miss Jackson glares at the reporter and clears her throat. //“I was walking Polly like always,”// she raises the shaky Chihuahua up to her face. The dog looks nervous at the camera and begins growling. //“Yes we got that Miss Jackson,”// the reporter shoves the dog's head down and nearly presses the microphone to the old lady's mouth. //“Tell us but was it Polly who found the victim or did you?”// //“No, how can she? She's half blind. I found the boy.”// Boy? You turn up the volume. //“I saw his little yellow shoe sticking out from the brush. I peeked and oh Lord,”// she covers her mouth with her hand. The reporter looks at the camera with a strained smile and lifts up a finger. //“Who could do this to a child?”//, she sobs. [[NEXT->Page 266]] </h3>

<h3>You feel your heart hammer in your chest and you $habit. Miss Jackson is sent away and the reporter talks directly into the camera, a stern expression on her face. //“Early this morning the body of seven year old Sammy Palmer was found half dressed by the edge of the woods near Camelot in the Meadows horrifically mutilated. His parents were not aware he was out of bed. If anyone has any info...,”// you stop listening. The screen shows a school photo of Sammy. Smiling into the camera. He's missing one of his front teeth. You turn off the TV. You look at nothing for a moment. <hr>\ * [[“Holy shit.”]] * [[“That's impossible.”]] * [[You remain silent.]] </h3>

<h3>Your heart hammers in your ears and your mouth is agape. You take only a moment before you get up, shove the TV back into the closet and run back to the telephone. <<if $imrecall>>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Imre's home phone. The line rings for minute before it's picked up.<<elseif $lorcancall>>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Lorcan's home phone. The line rings and rings and rings.<</if>> <<if $imrecall>>\ Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes everything! I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <<elseif $lorcancall>>\ You swear and hang up the phone. You chew on your nail and flip to the ''D'' section of the phonebook. You dial Imre's home phone and wait. It rings for a moment before it's picked up. Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes everything! I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You blink rapidly, your eyes trying to make sense of the images you just saw that contradicts everything. You take only a moment before you get up, shove the TV back into the closet and run back to the telephone. <<if $imrecall >>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Imre's home phone. The line rings for minute before it's picked up.<<elseif $lorcancall>>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Lorcan's home phone. The line rings and rings and rings.<</if>> <<if $imrecall>>\ Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes everything! I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <<elseif $lorcancall>> You swear and hang up the phone. You chew on your nail and flip to the ''D'' section of the phonebook. You dial Imre's home phone and wait. It rings for a moment before it's picked up. Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes everything! I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Your eyes remain fixed on nothing, you're oddly calm even though this changes everything. Oh, well, there's no point in in freaking out. You take only a moment before you get up, shove the TV back into the closet and run back to the telephone. <<if $imrecall>>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Imre's home phone. The line rings for minute before it's picked up.<<elseif $lorcancall>>You take the phonebook out from under the table and dial Lorcan's home phone. The line rings and rings and rings.<</if>> <<if $imrecall>>\ Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes a lot. I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <<elseif $lorcancall>>\ You swear and hang up the phone. You chew on your nail and flip to the ''D'' section of the phonebook. You dial Imre's home phone and wait. It rings for a moment before it's picked up. Before he can speak you say, “Imre I saw. This changes a lot. I mean if it is the same person or thing that killed the girls then it's going to take anyone.” “So he's serious about doing this, isn't he?” Nia answers. You're taken aback by her voice and roll your lips before saying, “Nia, what are you doing at Imre's house?” “Nothing, I was just coming to visit. But he was on his way out, I thought he looked like he was in a hurry and now I can see why,” she replies. You remember the way she freaked out when she found out the three of you were going ahead with this. You exhale and ask, “do you know where I can find him?” “Yeah,” she monotones. You wait and when it doesn't seem like she's going to say more you say slightly annoyed, “so, are you going to tell me?” “How are you?” Her question makes your eyes rise from your feet. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm ok, are you ok?”]] * [[♡ “Do you actually care?”]] * [[⟡ “You're worried.”]] * [[“Tiptop. Where's Imre?”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“Why? Do I not sound ok?” she asks. “You're asking me a question, you never do so maybe you're not so ok,” you reply. You hear her exhale through her nose, “I guess I'm feeling a bit out of sorts lately.” You $habit, not sure how to handle this. Nia in all that you've known has never been unbalanced, at least she hasn't outright admitted it. “You're doing that thing, aren't you?” <<set $callfriendlynia to true>> You stop and say slowly, “I have no idea what you're talking about. What thing?” You hear the slight smile in her voice, “you've been doing it for like ever. I thought you knew.”<<set $NiaRF += 1>> You feel your eyebrows lower and scrunch but a smile spreads on your face. “You're not even here. How do you know what I'm doing? Is it your latent psychic powers? If I wave will you see it?” “Don't you dare wave Birdie,” she says and you lower youe hand, a grin on your face. <<if $birdietruth >>She said she calls you that because you're beautiful, your chest contracts.<</if>> She doesn't say anything for a second. All you hear is her breathing. It's nice. The same sound you would hear next to your ear during sleepovers. Soft with a bit of a whistle. “I meant, with everything that happened. How was the hospital?” You raise an eyebrow. “Um, it wasn't great. Some things I'm trying to forget.” //You're the first person who's sincerely asked me about this,// you don't say. “I figured,” she says softly. [[NEXT->Page 267]] </h3>

<h3>“I wouldn't be asking the question if I didn't care, would I? Do you think I like wasting air?” she responds coldly.<<set $NiaRA += 1>> “Well you don't have to get so fucking snappy, you're the one who wants to have a conversation! We're having a conversation,” you yell. You can practically feel the glare in her eyes, “you know what? It is my fault for thinking you and I can talk civilly for a second without you taking out your unresolved issues on me.” “MY unresolved issues?!“ You let out a shaky breath and press your eyes shut. You $habit to try and calm down. You need her to tell you where you can find Imre. “Wow, so that thing you do does work.”<<set $callantagnia to true>> You stop abruptly and refute, “I don't do anything, you're imagining things.” She makes a derisive noise and responds, “you really want to talk about imagining things? Don't throw stones in glass houses, Birdie.” <<if $birdietruth>>She said she calls you that because you're beautiful, you swallow.<</if>>\ You bite your lip and say, “that's just you admitting you're as fucking crazy as me, which I didn't need you to say it to know Nia.” She snorts, “it is some sort of insanity to remain friends with a known lunatic. What was I thinking for 13 years?” You feel a laugh travel up your throat and cough quickly. She doesn't say anything and neither do you. You just hear each other breathe. You could recognize her breathing even if you lost your memory. A curse that you can't easily be free of her. “Speaking of, I was actually trying to ask you how they treated you at the hospital before you freaked out on me,” she admits. You roll your eyes, “yeah it was regular old five star stay. I totally don't have some abuse that has scarred me forever. Memories I wish I could forget. I'm just fine and dandy.” Your face goes warm as you realize she is the first person who's asked you this sincerely. She's so annoying. “That's awful,” she says seriously. [[NEXT->Page 267]] </h3>

<h3>“Don't I have reason to be?” she asks. <<set $callplatonicnia to true>> “Okay, I do admit that what we're doing is potentially dangerous but since you and I haven't exactly been the best of chums lately I didn't think you'd worry that much,” you say. The other end sounds so quiet. You would think she's hung up. “We were as you put it 'the best of chums' for years, you don't think that warrants some affection from me? I'm not a monster,” she intones. “I never said you were. But you do have a funny way of showing you care,” you retort. You $habit, by phone is not the best place to get into this. “You're either nervous or bored, if it's the second one I'm kind of offended,” she admits. You stop, looking around to see if she has any cameras in your house “Why would you say that?” Nia chuckles, “usually when you're either of those things you do that thing, a habit I guess. Don't ask me how I know when you're doing it. I just do.” You lean on the table and say, “kind of embarrassing that I've seem to not changed at all in two years.” She hums and replies, “no you have changed. I don't know exactly how but there's something very... distinct in you Birdie.” <<if $birdietruth>>She said she calls you that because you're strong, you smile.<</if>>\ You raise your eyebrow but don't ask her what she means. It's quiet for a few beats. Both of walking on eggshells but not wanting to hang up. “Fuck, I should've been more clear, when I asked how you are I meant with the whole asylum stuff. I heard those places are hell,” she concedes. Your eyes widen, “you're like the first person who's actually asked me that seriously. I mean it was a shithole. Certain memories I wish I could forget. But I'm alive, I survived.” “I knew you would,” she remarks. [[NEXT->Page 267]] </h3>

<h3>“You're just so...” she huffs. “What? I'm so what?”<<set $callnaurnia to true>> “You.” In between your yawn you say, “look, this is important. I don't feel like talking to you, if you won't tell me where he is I'm just hanging up.” “Well look at you. Here I was going to ask you about your time at the hospital. I would actually like this bitchy attitude if it wasn't directed at me,” she admits with what you feel is a smile. “I'm waiting,” you respond. [[NEXT->Page 267]] </h3>

<h3>“He's at the Hunter's Lodge,” she answers. You rack your brain for a moment, you know that name. It's that old cafe, at the edge of the road that leads into town, about ten minutes down the street from the manor. “He told me, that if you or Lorcan called, to get down there as fast as possible,” she continues. You move your tongue along behind the upper row of your teeth. “He didn't invite you,” you state. “I think he felt it was futile,” she responds with a voice that gives his belief credence. Not knowing what to say to that, you simply say, “if that's the case I have to go now then.” You lower the handset from your ear. “Birdie.” You bring the handset back to your ear, “yeah?” She waits a moment and then replies in slightly higher voice than is usual for her, “don't be stupid. If not for you, then for Sally, if not for Sally then just because.” You smirk, what you're doing could possibly be the most stupidest thing you've ever done to the point where it's your body that's found half naked in the woods next. “I know how much you hate lies,” you reply and hang up. [[NEXT->Page 268]] </h3>

<h3> <center>❖</center> Marilyn Monroe is baring her pearly white teeth at you. A framed picture of her from one of her photoshoots is hung up on the wall the booth your seated at. There's other pictures of her, Rita Hayworth, Audrey Hepburn, Cary Grant and many other Old Hollywood celebrities. It greatly contrasts with the mounted rifles, plastic fishes and heads of deers. The taxidermy is Tina's the Taxidermist's work. The floor is checkered black and white, the booths are made of wood, the tables are red and it has a classic 1960s ice cream parlour counter, the kind that's a circle with circular chairs surrounding it. The reason it's like this is because about thirty years ago, three sisters inherited money from their Father's will and all wanted this place that was up for sale. One sister wanted a cool hangout for the teens at the time, hence the ice cream parlour colour palette and counter. The second sister wanted it to be a lodge for the hunters, the loggers and fishers and the last sister wanted a gas station which is why there's defunct pumps outside, graffitied. The sisters then did a coin flip to see who got to name it. It's obvious who won. The first sister did sort of win in the end, this place is a usual hangout for kids your age. This is your first time here. You watch the back of Imre's shirt as he leans on the counter, talking with the first sister as she makes your drinks. She giggles at whatever he's saying. Imre looks over his shoulder, seeing you he throws you a wink and turns his head back. You asked for... <hr>\ * [[A milkshake.]] * [[A rootbeer float.]] * [[A coke.]] * [[A sundae.]] * [[A coffee.]] </h3>

<h3>Sally would be annoyed if he found out you were about to drink a milkshake. He says they're illnesses in a cup. You're a bit excited to see how it tastes. You could get super sick, you find you don't much care. <<set $milkshake to true>> You flinch as when a small ball of crumped napkin hits your forehead. You look away from Imre to see Lorcan's little row of small balls of napkins on the table. He flicks another with his finger and it hits your collar before tumbling down your shirt. “What do you think you're doing?” “Shhhhh!,” he says, “I'm on a roll.” Another one flies towards you and you slightly move to the left, it flies over the booth. Lorcan slightly gets up, “shit.” He sits back down and gets ready for another flick. “Can you just sit still?” Maintaining his fingers in positions he smirks at you, “yeah I can, next question.” Another flies and hits your shoulder. Before you can think of doing something you're reminded of another set of small paper balls like these. [[NEXT->Page 269]] </h3>

<h3>Sally once drank one of these and vomited, since then he prohibited any of you to have any. You're a bit excited to see what it's like. Maybe you'll throw up too. You find that that prospect doesn't bother you. <<set $rootbeer to true>> You flinch as when a small ball of crumped napkin hits your forehead. You look away from Imre to see Lorcan's little row of small balls of napkins on the table. He flicks another with his finger and it hits your collar before tumbling down your shirt. “What do you think you're doing?” “Shhhhh!,” he says, “I'm on a roll.” Another one flies towards you and you slightly move to the left, it flies over the booth. Lorcan slightly gets up, “shit.” He sits back down and gets ready for another flick. “Can you just sit still?” Maintaining his fingers in positions he smirks at you, “yeah I can, next question.” Another flies and hits your shoulder. Before you can think of doing something you're reminded of another set of small paper balls like these. [[NEXT->Page 269]] </h3>

<h3>Since that time Sally read what they used to put in coke, he's convinced it still has it so he doesn't allow any in the house. You're a bit excited to feel the sugar high. If it's the other type of high, well that'll be interesting too. You flinch as when a small ball of crumped napkin hits your forehead. You look away from Imre to see Lorcan's little row of small balls of napkins on the table. He flicks another with his finger and it hits your collar before tumbling down your shirt. “What do you think you're doing?” <<set $coke to true>> “Shhhhh!,” he says, “I'm on a roll.” Another one flies towards you and you slightly move to the left, it flies over the booth. Lorcan slightly gets up, “shit.” He sits back down and gets ready for another flick. “Can you just sit still?” Maintaining his fingers in positions he smirks at you, “yeah I can, next question.” Another flies and hits your shoulder. Before you can think of doing something you're reminded of another set of small paper balls like these. [[NEXT->Page 269]] </h3>

<h3>You haven't ever had one. You've had regular old cone ice cream. Sally feels that this is just gluttony. You're a bit excited to savour the rich flavours. Sinning doesn't seem so bad. You flinch as when a small ball of crumped napkin hits your forehead. You look away from Imre to see Lorcan's little row of small balls of napkins on the table. He flicks another with his finger and it hits your collar before tumbling down your shirt. “What do you think you're doing?” <<set $sundae to true>> “Shhhhh!,” he says, “I'm on a roll.” Another one flies towards you and you slightly move to the left, it flies over the booth. Lorcan slightly gets up, “shit.” He sits back down and gets ready for another flick. “Can you just sit still?” Maintaining his fingers in positions he smirks at you, “yeah I can, next question.” Another flies and hits your shoulder. Before you can think of doing something you're reminded of another set of small paper balls like these. [[NEXT->Page 269]] </h3>

<h3>Sally doesn't allow you to be served coffee. He says you're too young and that you'll react badly to it. You're a bit excited to see what all the fussy is about. If you crash and burn, it'll at least be trying something new. You flinch as when a small ball of crumped napkin hits your forehead. You look away from Imre to see Lorcan's little row of small balls of napkins on the table. He flicks another with his finger and it hits your collar before tumbling down your shirt. “What do you think you're doing?” <<set $coffee to true>> “Shhhhh!,” he says, “I'm on a roll.” Another one flies towards you and you slightly move to the left, it flies over the booth. Lorcan slightly gets up, “shit.” He sits back down and gets ready for another flick. “Can you just sit still?” Maintaining his fingers in positions he smirks at you, “yeah I can, next question.” Another flies and hits your shoulder. Before you can think of doing something you're reminded of another set of small paper balls like these. [[NEXT->Page 269]] </h3>

<h3>There was a patient at the asylum who had a habit of shooting spit filled paper balls from straws. It would stick to everything. Especially people's hair. You tried to ignore him, the many times he did this to you. Until one day, without notice you grabbed a tray and smashed over his head. You were just so angry. It happened so quickly too. You remember the headache and the buzzing like tiny little bees under your skin. It's like you were there and weren't there. <<if $protectionlie>>You were only defending yourself. If you're hands went too hard it wasn't your intention. You just wanted it to stop. No one really knows how to control their strength. Anger is protection.<<elseif $controllie>>You didn't mean to. Your hands did what they did on their own. No one understands how hard it is to make your body do what you tell it. You simply lost control.<<elseif $delightlie>>You remember saying you didn't remember. The feeling of his head caving in under your strength made you feel alive for the first time since you had gotten to that hospital. As delicious as eating a fresh fruit.<<elseif $unknownlie>>You weren't thinking. You really didn't mean to. You don't know why this happens, or how to stop it. It seems like you never will.<</if>> He didn't die but he was severely injured. One of the orderlies punched you in the face. One of your teeth is still a big wiggly. “HEY, Earth to freak!“ Lorcan waves his head in front of you eyes. “Huh?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “it's no fun throwing shit at you if you're somewhere else.” “Yeah...,” you trail off see the sister putting the drinks on the tray Imre's holding. Lorcan flicks your fingers and you look down to see your nails digging into the red plastic. You let go. It's Nia. If she hadn't mentioned the asylum you wouldn't be thinking about this. <hr>\ * [[You hate her.]] * [[She makes you so angry.]] * [[You don't know what you feel for her.]] * [[In spite of it all, she's still so important for you.]] </h3>

<h3>You just want to strangle her. So damn smug. She talks to you as if she knows more than you. Thinks she's so fucking smart. You could just scream. As your fuming increases, Imre walks over with the tray and Lorcan scoots over. Just as he sets the drink, Lorcan reaches over and grabs coke, sipping it noisily. Imre shoots him a look and passes you your drink before getting his own, a black coffee. He reaches over for six packets of sugar.<<set $hateN to true>> <<if $milkshake>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sweet taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the milkshake, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious.<<set $hateN to true>> “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sickly syrup taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the float portion of the rootbeer, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coke>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The bubbles surprise you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coke, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. “At least your tastebuds can be trusted,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You stir the sundae until it's a brownish color, and bring the spoon to your mouth. The saccharine taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the ice cream, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You bring the steaming cup to your mouth and slurp. The bitter taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coffee, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “Try this,” Imre advises and slides over three packets of sugar with the tips of his fingers. After adding the sugar you blow on the surface of the cup before taking a small sip. You take a moment to let it sit in your mouth before swallowing. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <</if>>\ The three of you spend the next five minutes just enjoying your drinks, people watching and listening to the music from the jukebox at the corner which is the most vibrant shade of pink you've ever seen. [[NEXT->Page 270]] </h3>

<h3>She's the one who left you and she's acting like it's not big deal. Like she couldn't be bothered with you to even give you an explanation. You can't even yell at her because she's unfazed. As your ire increases, Imre walks over with the tray and Lorcan scoots over. Just as he sets the drink, Lorcan reaches over and grabs coke, sipping it noisily. Imre shoots him a look and passes you your drink before getting his own, a black coffee. He reaches over for six packets of sugar.<<set $angryN to true>> <<if $milkshake>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sweet taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the milkshake, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sickly syrup taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the float portion of the rootbeer, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coke>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The bubbles surprise you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coke, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. “At least your tastebuds can be trusted,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You stir the sundae until it's a brownish color, and bring the spoon to your mouth. The saccharine taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the ice cream, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You bring the steaming cup to your mouth and slurp. The bitter taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coffee, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “Try this,” Imre advises and slides over three packets of sugar with the tips of his fingers. After adding the sugar you blow on the surface of the cup before taking a small sip. You take a moment to let it sit in your mouth before swallowing. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <</if>>\ The three of you spend the next five minutes just enjoying your drinks, people watching and listening to the music from the jukebox at the corner which is the most vibrant shade of pink you've ever seen. [[NEXT->Page 270]] </h3>

<h3>On one hand she's your oldest friend. There are feelings of fondness there and affection and care. On the other hand she discarded you as if all those years meant nothing to her. You don't know if you love her, hate her or never want to see her again. As your pondering increases, Imre walks over with the tray and Lorcan scoots over. Just as he sets the drink, Lorcan reaches over and grabs coke, sipping it noisily. Imre shoots him a look and passes you your drink before getting his own, a black coffee. He reaches over for six packets of sugar.<<set $shrugN to true>> <<if $milkshake>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sweet taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the milkshake, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sickly syrup taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the float portion of the rootbeer, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coke>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The bubbles surprise you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coke, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. “At least your tastebuds can be trusted,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You stir the sundae until it's a brownish color, and bring the spoon to your mouth. The saccharine taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the ice cream, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You bring the steaming cup to your mouth and slurp. The bitter taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coffee, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “Try this,” Imre advises and slides over three packets of sugar with the tips of his fingers. After adding the sugar you blow on the surface of the cup before taking a small sip. You take a moment to let it sit in your mouth before swallowing. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <</if>>\ The three of you spend the next five minutes just enjoying your drinks, people watching and listening to the music from the jukebox at the corner which is the most vibrant shade of pink you've ever seen. [[NEXT->Page 270]] </h3>

<h3>Call it masochism, stupidity, naivety. Any and all pathetic words but that doesn't change what you feel. You've been with her longer than you've been without her and you're not some unfeeling robot to just command yourself to be indifferent. As your fond recollections increase, Imre walks over with the tray and Lorcan scoots over. Just as he sets the drink, Lorcan reaches over and grabs coke, sipping it noisily. Imre shoots him a look and passes you your drink before getting his own, a black coffee. He reaches over for six packets of sugar.<<set $careN to true>> <<if $milkshake>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sweet taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the milkshake, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The sickly syrup taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the float portion of the rootbeer, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coke>>\ You place the candy-colored straw in your mouth and suck in. The bubbles surprise you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coke, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. “At least your tastebuds can be trusted,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You stir the sundae until it's a brownish color, and bring the spoon to your mouth. The saccharine taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the ice cream, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You bring the steaming cup to your mouth and slurp. The bitter taste surprises you and you jerk back. Lorcan looks at you as he sips and Imre raises his eyebrow. You move the contents around your mouth. You stain your teeth with the coffee, swish it around your mouth and then swallow. The boys have not taken their eyes off you. Imre's looks confused and Lorcan looks annoyed but curious. “Try this,” Imre advises and slides over three packets of sugar with the tips of his fingers. After adding the sugar you blow on the surface of the cup before taking a small sip. You take a moment to let it sit in your mouth before swallowing. “I decided I like it,” you proclaim. Imre smile and shakes more sugar into his coffee. <</if>>\ The three of you spend the next five minutes just enjoying your drinks, people watching and listening to the music from the jukebox at the corner which is the most vibrant shade of pink you've ever seen. [[NEXT->Page 270]] </h3>

<h3>“Ok, vamos a matería,” Imre sets down his coffee and lifts his satchel from under the table. “What the fuck does that mean?” Lorcan asks. Imre moves aside the coffee and the napkin dispenser, “it means you should try and learn more languages. Monolingualism is a very limited way to view the world.” Lorcan narrows his eyes, “I'm not monolingualism.” “Monolinguist,” Imre quickly corrects him. “Yeah like I said. I'm not that,” he insists. You swallow and say, “don't you only know English?” Lorcan turns to you, “uh duh.”<<audio "investigation" loop play>> Imre smirks and takes out a folder from his bag. He sets it the middle of all of you and opens it. The first page is newspaper clipping of the day Stephanie Burrows' body was found. Lorcan takes it and skims over it. Imre moves the papers, all of them photocopies, next to each other. They're upside down to you but you can tell they're missing persons reports from that wall at the police station. “So, as you can see these are some of the girls, not all because the gist is basically the same. A young girl goes out at night and is never seen again. The difference between our last two victims, and we'll talk about the kid after,” Imre says, “is that their bodies were found.” “And Orla,” Lorcan interjects, his eyes still on the newspaper. “We don't know if Orla is definitely with the others,” you reply. Lorcan sets the newspaper clipping on the table and says, “obviously she is. She was found in the same circumstances, wasn't she?” [[NEXT->Page 271]] </h3>

<h3>Imre looks from Lorcan to you, “Lorcan's right. There's no reason to believe she isn't. It's best to put her with the other two we're looking at.” You blink, “whatever.” Lorcan smirks at you and takes a sip of his coke. “That's settled, let's move on,” Imre suggest. “We know three things, one,” he lifts up a finger, “this is not a new phenomena. This has been happening at the very least since the dawn of the century.” You nod. Imre lifts up a second finger, “anyone know the second thing?” Lorcan's nose scrunches and he says, “are we in school? I'm not raising my fucking hand.” Imre turns to you, “what's the second, $name?” <hr>\ * [[“They all had As in their names.”]] * [[“They were found near each other.”]] * [[“No one cared they were gone.”]] </h3>

<h3>Imre shakes his head, “um no. That's just a coincidence. A is one of the most common letters in names, I would've been surprised if none of the three had that in their names.” “Yeah doofus,” Lorcan ribbs. You glare at Lorcan. “Don't listen to him, he breakfasts bitterness,” Imre snarks. He turns to Lorcan, “well?” Lorcan sighs but says, “no one gave a shit. Their parents acted like nothing was wrong.” Imre nods, “right. It seems that at some point in the past missing persons stopped being reported. I don't know when exactly but when I was looking over the wall at the station I could've sworn there isn't a missing person's poster past the 70s.” “Non-deliberate choice or does every parent hate their kids?” you ask. “Definitely the second one,” Lorcan says. Imre lifts up a third finger, “what's the last thing we know?” Lorcan answers, “they were eaten.” Imre lifts his two pointer fingers, “exactly.” [[NEXT->Page 272]] </h3>

<h3>Imre shakes his head once, “Stephanie was found near Croun Manor, Candace at the fair and Orla at the lake. They were spread throughout town with seemingly no rhyme nor reason.” “Shitty ass geography,” Lorcan ribbs. You narrow your eyes at him. “Ignore him, he couldn't find Italy on a map,” Imre snarks. He turns to Lorcan, “well?” Lorcan sighs but says, “no one gave a shit. Their parents acted like nothing was wrong.” Imre nods, “right. It seems that at some point in the past missing persons stopped being reported. I don't know when exactly but when I was looking over the wall at the station I could've sworn there isn't a missing person's poster past the 70s.” “Non-deliberate choice or does every parent hate their kids?” you ask. “Definitely the second one,” Lorcan says. Imre lifts up a third finger, “what's the last thing we know?” Lorcan answers, “they were eaten.” Imre lifts his two pointer fingers, “exactly.” [[NEXT->Page 272]] </h3>

<h3>“Not even their families. At least not enough to report them missing, although with Orla we didn't have a chance before they found her,” you state. “You know your dad wouldn't reported her missing anyway,” Lorcan interjects. “Why?” Imre asks, looking at you. “Scandal. Gossip. Everything that can be handled in the confines of the manor will be,” you say. Imre nods and touches one of the papers. Lorcan's eyes land on the newspaper clipping annoucing the discovery of Orla's body, the same one you have in the box under your bed. Her dazzling whitened smile looks back at him. Imre says, “it seems that at some point in the past missing persons stopped being reported. I don't know when exactly but when I was looking over the wall at the station I could've sworn there isn't a missing person's poster past the 70s.” “Non-deliberate choice or does every parent hate their kids?” you ask. “Definitely the second one,” Lorcan says. Imre lifts up a third finger, “what's the last thing we know?” Lorcan answers, “they were eaten.” Imre lifts his two pointer fingers, “exactly.” [[NEXT->Page 272]] </h3>

<h3>“But not completely,” Imre adds. Imre looks from you to Lorcan and back. Lorcan quirks his eyebrow at you and you shrug. If Imre were any other person he might roll his eyes but instead he clasps on the table. “What if, the reason all the other bodies have never been found is because they were completely digested?” Imre clarifies. You nod, “that could explain any lack of evidence left in any of the other cases which would mean they aren't disappearances anymore but all murder.” “Wouldn't there be piles of shit everywhere?” Lorcan asks, completely serious. “What?” Imre asks, completely astounded. “If you eat a big meal you have to shit right? Basically everyone shits if they can eat right?” Lorcan asks you. Your eyebrows scrunch together, “um, I guess, I don't know about every animal.” “What is this line of inquiry Lorcan?” Lorcan scowls, “it's a fucking good question. All things poop right?” Imre sighs, “mites, jellyfish, sea sponges, mosquitoes all generally don't produce waste.” Lorcan looks annoyed and disbelieving, “ok so a giant fucking jellyfish is killing people is that what you're trying to say?” “I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying there are creatures that don't poop,” Imre snaps. “And why the hell does that matter? I'm talking about animals that do poop!“ You let out chuckle and the boys both look your way. “This whole conversation is very... entertaining,” you say. Imre turns his attention back to the photocopied posters, “$name is right, feces is a tangential matter.” Lorcan opens his mouth to argue and you elbow his coke. [[NEXT->Page 273]] </h3>

<h3>“Shit,” Lorcan scrambles to pick up the can and grabs a handful of napkins. Imre puts two fingers on the clippings of the discovery of Stephanie's body and Candace's late fair arrival. “I think we should focus on these two for now, the benefit is that they're the most recent — until today's discovery — cases we have.” Lorcan holds the sooping mess of napkins in his hand and looms unsure of what to do with it so he just shoves it between the table and the wall. “Apart from being girls they don't have much in common though,” you say. “Actually they do. They have one thing in common. It might be nothing but it just seems to much of a coincidence to overlook,” Imre rejoins. Lorcan shakes his coke can to his ear and makes a face. “One thing,” you reply. “One thing,” he answers. Lorcan tilts his head back and pours the coke into his mouth, only a slight trickle comes out and lands inside. <hr>\ //One thing. One word. Lowercase.// <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password3">> </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is 'party'>>[[NEXT->Page 274]]<<else>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password4">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“Yes, exactly!“ Imre claps his hands. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Lorcan, looking bored lays his cheek against his closed fist, “ok they were going to a party. You said Stephanie was going to a friend's party apparently so we know that's true but what about Candace?” Imre taps a sip of his coffee, “so that's actually what I've been to tell you both. So apparently there was no party that Stephanie was going to.” “What?” you ask, leaning forward. Imre shrugs, “it's really just a minor setback. My information was wrong. She wasn't going to a friend's party, she was going to //a// party. She was supposed to go to her friend's originally but said she had to stop by a party first.” Lorcan stares at Imre, “and how long were you sitting on that shit?” Imre stares back at Lorcan, “what are implying?” “I'm implying that—“ “We're veering off topic again,” you interrupt. Lorcan blows a raspberry and goes back to leaning on his hand. “Did Heather tell you this wrong info by the way?” Imre raises an eyebrow, “yes, why?” “Heather is an attention whore who was Stephanie's bee-eff-eff before some shit went down and they stopped talking to each other like a week before Stephanie apparently went MIA,” Lorcan tells. “How do you know this? Heather hates you,” Imre asks. Lorcan shrugs, “I listen.” You lean back and look between the boys. Lorcan looks like he can't be bothered with any topic that doesn't have to do with Orla and you keep thinking of what he said about Imre. What Nia has said about Imre. You look at the boy, he looks so kind at first glance, doesn't he? <hr>\ * [[You're trying to trust him.]] * [[You trust venomous snakes more.]] * [[You're not sure.]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is 'party'>>[[NEXT->Page 274]] <<else>><<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password4">> <<linkappend "Hint" t8n>> Where were they going? <</linkappend>> <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Even though every alarm bell in your head is telling you he's lying to you, he's manipulating you, he's using you. You, in spite of your common sense are fighting against it. You don't why you want to believe in him so badly but you do. Perhaps you're a fool, but maybe he won't make you regret it. <<set $imretrust to true>> Imre clears his throat, “if anyone knows anything about where Stephanie and Candace were going or at least have an idea we need to talk to more people in their lives, people who don't have much of a motive to lie.” “Everyone would have a motive to lie,” you say, “if their parents didn't report them missing then they can't be trusted completely and much less anyone else.” Imre smiles at you, “you have a far less optimistic view of people, don't you? That's why I picked you.” <<if $milkshake>>\ You look down at you milkshake and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You look down at you float and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coke>>\ You look down at you coke and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You look down at you sundae and scoop up a bite. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You look down at you coffee and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <</if>> “They could lie, but if you get them to keep talking they might let something slip and right now our group needs any leads we can get,” Imre concludes. “We could go see Stephanie's boyfriend,” Lorcan suggests. [[NEXT->Page 275]] </h3>

<h3>Every single thing, even a simple 'Hello' makes you distrust him more. He's the type of person who thinks quickly and chooses his words in that timespan carefully. You don't know why he does and you don't care, all you do know is that he's using his best manipulation tactics on you and he's disconcerted you are able to see through them. In a way, you're almost proud of yourself.<<set $imreliar to true>> Imre clears his throat, “if anyone knows anything about where Stephanie and Candace were going or at least have an idea we need to talk to more people in their lives, people who don't have much of a motive to lie.” “Everyone would have a motive to lie,” you say, “if their parents didn't report them missing then they can't be trusted completely and much less anyone else.” Imre smiles at you, “you have a far less optimistic view of people, don't you? That's why I picked you.” <<if $milkshake>>\ You look down at you milkshake and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You look down at you float and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coke>>\ You look down at you coke and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You look down at you sundae and scoop up a bite. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You look down at you coffee and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <</if>> “They could lie, but if you get them to keep talking they might let something slip and right now our group needs any leads we can get,” Imre concludes. “We could go see Stephanie's boyfriend,” Lorcan suggests. [[NEXT->Page 275]] </h3>

<h3>On one hand if Nia, Imre's best friend who knows him better than you is saying he's not to be trusted it must mean something but on the other you see no reason as to why he should be interested in you so much as to play up his skills. You're stuck and that means you're ready for nothing. <<set $imreunsure to true>> Imre clears his throat, “if anyone knows anything about where Stephanie and Candace we're going or at least have an idea we need to talk to more people in their lives, people who don't have much of a motive to lie.” “Everyone would have a motive to lie,” you say, “if their parents didn't report them missing then they can't be trusted completely and much less anyone else.” Imre smiles at you, “you have a far less optimistic view of people, don't you? That's why I picked you.” <<if $milkshake>>\ You look down at you milkshake and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You look down at you float and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coke>>\ You look down at you coke and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You look down at you sundae and scoop up a bite. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You look down at you coffee and sip. Lorcan mumbles something under his breath, grimacing. <</if>> “They could lie, but if you get them to keep talking they might let something slip and right now our group needs any leads we can get,” Imre concludes. “We could go see Stephanie's boyfriend,” Lorcan suggests. [[NEXT->Page 275]] </h3>

<h3>“Boyfriend?” you say. “Yeah she is, well was, dating this guy that lives in Cam,” Lorcan says. Imre rubs his chin, “those who I talked to never mentioned him. Now I know why.” Lorcan glares at Imre, “yeah because all you rich assholes think we're all dirt at the bottom of your designer shoes.” Imre takes out some sticky notes. He writes 'BOYFRIEND' on one of them and sticks it onto Stephanie's clipping and writes 'MOTHER' on another and sticks it to Candace's clipping. Then Imre clicks his tongue and goes to the counter. He talks a bit with the sister and she motions to the door. He goes out and quickly comes back with a newspaper. He lays it on the table and you see the frontpage for today's news from the daily. ''SAMUEL PALMER, AGE 7, FOUND SLAIN.'' None of you say anything for a moment, all of you contemplating the complete dismantling of what you all believed. “So now we're all fucked huh? Walking cheeseburgers for this psycho,” Lorcan quips. Imre nods, “yes, it seems to be that suddenly our perpetrator decided to try new avenues in culinary tastes.” “Why now though? If we go with the theory that this thing or guy or girl or person has been doing this for decades, why change course now?” you ask. Imre gives you a resigned look and Lorcan just stares at Sammy's school picture. “Maybe they know we're onto them?” Lorcan ventures. Imre smiles, “well, if three high schoolers with barely anything to go on scare them that much then we must be on the right track.” [[NEXT->Page 276]] </h3>

<h3>“Alright but how does the party stuff fit with the kid? I don't think he was going out to get wasted,” Lorcan says. “Who knows? When did you start drinking?” you ask. Lorcan gives you the finger. Smiling, Imre proposes, “maybe it was an opportunistic attack? Trying to throw us off, the perpetrator sought out anyone and just so happened to get Sammy.” “What if they're not trying to throw us off? What if they're just getting hungrier?” Lorcan suggests. Imre takes another sip of his coffee and you ponder, looking into Sammy's eyes. “We're either dealing with a cannibal or one of //them//,” you emphasize. Imre looks up and looks at you, his face unreadible. Lorcan nods, taking off the tab of his coke can. “For our sakes I do hope they're human, not only will we be at a disadvantage if it's a non-human resident but also breaking some of the most sacred and serious laws in town,” Imre answers. “Fuck me, I don't want to share a cell with you two so let's pray it's a cannibal,” Lorcan says. “That would answer your poop question, if the perpetrator is non-human than they might not have such bowel movements.” Lorcan glances at Imre, “if they're human?” Imre lets out an exasperated sigh, “execrement left outside will either disappear due to the elements or dry up, perhaps be hard to see in dirt depending on the colour. Happy?” With a sarcastic smile Lorcan replies, “so fucking happy.” [[NEXT->Page 277]] </h3>

<h3>Imre finishes his cup and begins stacking the papers in a stack, “I suggest we interview Stephanie's boyfriend, Candace's mother or Sammy's parents.” <<if $milkshake >>\ You slurp the last of your shake and wipe your mouth with a napkin. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You slurp the last of your rootbeer and wipe your mouth with a napkin. <<elseif $coke>>\ You sip the last of your coke and wipe your mouth with a napkin. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You eat the last of your sundae and wipe your mouth with a napkin. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You sip the last of your coffee and wipe your mouth with a napkin. <</if>> Lorcan raises his hand, “I call dibs on Stephanie's man.” Imre's brows lower, “right. Dibs,” he looks at you, “I guess I could speak to the mother.” Lorcan then turns to you too. You could go with Imre to see Candace's mother, you know less about her than you do Stephanie, it could be interesting if still hard as her daughter died. Or there's going with Lorcan to Stephanie's. You've never been to Camelot in the Meadows and it might provide more insight into a girl you've been obsessing over for weeks. Then there's Sammy, which could be the most difficult given that his parents are probably distraught. The added allure of this case is that you know nothing about him nor why he was out last night. You could go at it alone, go with one of the boys or go with both. <hr>\ * [[Go with Imre to Candace's.]] * [[Go with Lorcan to see the boyfriend.]] * [[Go to see Sammy's parents with Imre.]] * [[Go to see Sammy's parents with Lorcan.]] * [[Make Sammy's a threesome.]] </h3>

<h3>You nod to the brown-haired boy, “mind some company?” He smiles, “not at all.” <<set $imrequest to true>> Lorcan pretends to gag. All three of you stand up and leave the lodge, the later summer air makes you shiver. The wind used to never come down from above the tree tops, lately you find yourself wearing thicker jackets. You walk to Imre's car and Imre unlocks the driver's side, opening it. Before getting it he looks at Lorcan who stands a few feet away, his hands stuck in his pockets. Imre opens his satchel and rummages inside before taking out a small notepad and throwing it to Lorcan. “What's this for?” Lorcan asks, flipping through the pages. As he gets in, Imre replies, “write down anything of note.” You and Lorcan exchange a glance before you open the door and get in. Imre backs up, and Lorcan stands in the makeshift parking lot, his eyes not leaving the car until it's too far away for you to see where he's looking. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace1]] </h3>

<h3>You glance for a moment at Sammy's picture and say to Imre, “do you want to come with me?” Imre smiles, “love to.” <<set $imrequest2 to true>> Lorcan makes an 'ugh' sound. All three of you stand up and leave the lodge, the later summer air makes you shiver. The wind used to never come down from above the tree tops, lately you find yourself wearing thicker jackets. You walk to Imre's car and Imre unlocks the driver's side, opening it. Before getting it he looks at Lorcan who stands a few feet away, his hands stuck in his pockets. Imre opens his satchel and rummages inside before taking out a small notepad and throwing it to Lorcan. “What's this for?” Lorcan asks, flipping through the pages. As he gets in, Imre replies, “write down anything of note.” You and Lorcan exchange a glance before you open the door and get in. Imre backs up, and Lorcan stands in the makeshift parking lot, his eyes not leaving the car until it's too far away for you to see where he's looking. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre1]] </h3>

<h3>You feel Sammy's smile burning a hole on your eyes, “try not to be a complete ass when we go talk to this kid's parents,” you say to Lorcan. Lorcan scoffs, “I'm not a dog ya know, I control myself.” Imre looks like he wants to make a comment but instead wipes his mouth with a napkin. All three of you stand up and leave the lodge, the later summer air makes you shiver. The wind used to never come down from above the tree tops, lately you find yourself wearing thicker jackets. You walk to Lorcan's bike and Imre unlocks the driver's seat of his car. Before getting in he looks at Lorcan who stops a few feet from you, his hands stuck in his pockets. Imre opens his satchel and rummages inside before taking out a small notepad and throwing it to you. <<set $lorcanquest2 to true>> Catching it, you ask, “for anything important she might say.” Imre nods, “exactly. Good luck.” You two watch as he gets up, turns on the car and backs up. As he leaves the makeshift parking lot Lorcan picks up his bike and throws his leg over so that the bike is between his legs. He jerks his head to the seat. You sit down and your instinct is to grab onto him but you pause, you see his shoulders tense and you opt to hold onto the seat. Without a word he pedals out of the parking lot. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan1]] </h3>

<h3>This could be an awful idea but you gesture to both of them, “let's not split up like all the horror movies do, we already have enough bodies.” Imre assents and Lorcan doesn't say anything for once. All three of you stand up and leave the lodge, the later summer air makes you shiver. The wind used to never come down from above the tree tops, lately you find yourself wearing thicker jackets. You walk to Imre's car and Imre unlocks the driver's side, opening it. Lorcan looks at his bike thrown on the grass, “where the hell I am gonna put that?” Imre notices the bike and shrugs, “definitely not in my car, last thing I want to do is wipe the backseats tonight.” “I can't leave it here, someone will steal it.” <<set $boysquest to true>> You roll your lips as you get the urge to say that no one would steal a bike that looks like that. Imre huffs, “Lorcan, people are too scared of the sister to steal things from the premises. It'll be fine, get in the car, we're wasting daylight.” Imre slides and you watch as Lorcan gives one last worried look at the bike before walking over to the back seat. You buckle in and Imre backs out. As you leave the makeshift parking lot, Lorcan turns around and looks through the back window at the bike. “You're hauling my ass to school everyday for the rest of the year if someone steals my bike,” Lorcan threatens. “Trust me Lorcan, no one, really no one, will touch your bike,” Imre responds and as Lorcan turns around to scowl at him, he smiles. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(1)]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan pedals his bike as if you were being chased. Your fingers cramp from holding onto the seat and you have the urge to ask if to slow down because it's cold. You quickly look at the nearly shrouded entrance of the dirt road to your home as Lorcan speeds past. You lean your head sideways to try and peek around Lorcan's back to what's in front of you. You see a crumpled lump in the middle of the road and as you say, “L-“ the boy jerks to the left. You feel yourself falling to the side so you grab onto... <hr>\ * [[Lorcan's hips.]] * [[The tube.]] </h3>

<h3>Imre's driving is leisurely. It gives the impression that he's not all too focused on getting to the witness portion of his investigation. He goes the speed limit, he stops completely at 'STOP' signs. He let's people jay-walk. The radio is fighting for its life to get a signal. They say it's because of the trees. A whiny male singer's voice leaps out from the static and Imre quickly turns the knob. He moves his hand around and sighs, “It's falling asleep,” he explains. The radio picks up a melodious soprano. “It's probably not great when you're the one driving us,” you respond, Imre smiles, “most likely, I write too much. I have a feeling it's carpal tunnel.” He lays his hand down by the stickshift, thus between you two. Palm up. The skin of his hand looks soft. His fingers a bit thick and short. You could squeeze it, try to wake it up. Y'know, so you don't die if he somehow needs his other hand to drive. But that's also incredibly odd, an odd thing for you to do. And no matter your intention behind it, it would give a certain impression. <hr>\ * [[Grab it.->Hand]] * [[Keep your hands to yourself.->No hand]] </h3>

<h3>The car in front of us is slow. And it slants to one way, when it's about to touch the curb it slants abruptly to the other way and toes the dividing line. Imre drums his fingers against the wheel, sucking on his bottom. He's constantly fiddling with the radio knob. “Maldita sea,” he whispers. The car in front of you breaks and Imre slams on his. You're lurched forward, and grunt as the seatbelt digs into your stomach. The car then drives. The sigh that leaves Imre's mouth turns into a low growl. His fiddling with the knob seems much more curt, he might slam it. “You could get cassettes,” you suggest. Imre looks at you like you've grown another head. “What?” Your eyebrows bunch together, your face an obvious mask of disbelief. “What do you mean'what'? Everyone uses cassettes nowadays.” Imre waves that off like a fly, “this new technology seeks to corrupt the beauty, practicality, elegance and sound of music.” You scoff, “I'm pretty sure cassettes have been around for a while.” “Not as popular portable form of listening the youth,” he claims. You smile and say, “for the youth? You sound sixty.” “Shame me all you want,” he jerks the knob, “but these so-called 'advancements' in music technology are sure to ruin the purity of each individual component that makes of music.” A sliver in the spectrum of radio signals catches what sounds like a violin and Imre slowly draws it back, it's has some static but the violin is audible enough. “What genre of music do you prefer?” he asks. <hr>\ * [[“Pop.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'pop']] * [[“Rock.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'rock']] * [[“Jazz.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'jazz']] * [[“Blues.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'blues']] * [[“Punk.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'punk']] * [[“Hip-hop.”|Sammy-Imre2][$music to 'hiphop']] </h3>

<h3>“...as bad as being an altar boy.” You roll your eyes at the lastest complaint Lorcan throws at you. Since you left the Lodge he's been telling you in various ways why he thinks going to the Palmer's home is a bad idea. You think he's exaggerating. “It's like being a scary move and going to have sex in a random abandoned house.” “Ah huh.” “Doing backflips off a roof.” “Sure.” “Telling a woman she does look fat when she asks you.” “Since you have such a way with words I'm guessing you've done that.” “Oh sorry your majesty I didn't know I was next to a poet.” “You're forgiven.” Lorcan throws his hand back to smack you but you skeeve it. You push him and the bike almost careens into a car. “Jesus fuck!“ Lorcan yells and swerves to the right. You hit the curb and you as the seat bumps roughly against your inner thighs. Lorcan brakes and you see the green lamborghini roll down it's windows. A boy with red hair glares at you while the boy in the driver's seat smirks. “Look who we have here. It's the junkie and the freak. Of course you'd two hang out because no one else wants to,” the driver says in an uppity voice. You can see the side of Lorcan's face twitch. “Why don't you two go and fuck each other in the showers like everyone says you do,” he spits. The red-haired boy lashes, “what the fuck did you say gutter trash?” He unbuckles his seatbelt but the driver stops him, “don't dirty your hands with crack babies Tom. You'll get rabies.” “No you'll catch my fucking fist in your face,” Lorcan threatens and seems poised to run at the car. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending his crazy fucking bitch girlfriend. I don't blame you though, they do say crazy pussy is the best pussy.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending that fairy trash. Makes sense you're such a faggot. Do you two wear dresses together?”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending his wittle boyfriend. I knew you didn't fuck Orla, she fucked you.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending his wittle carpet muncher. Got curious what a bitch who says she's acts like a boy has between her legs huh? Is her dildo bigger than yours?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending his freakish girlfriend. Tell me, is there really a cunt under there or just a black wet hole?”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>The driver laughs mockingly, “look at wittle Lorcan defending his faggoty boyfriend. Hey, did you fuck him just to see what the sissy actually has under there?”<</if>> “I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!“ Lorcan throws his leg over the tube of the back and stalks towards the car that speeds off right when he touches the door. You follow it with your eyes as it dashes down the street, their laughs audible over the squeaking of the wheels on the pavement. “HAVE FUN WITH ORLA'S SPARE!“ the redheaded boy sticks his head out of the window and yells before disappearing behind a corner. “Fuck!“ Lorcan kicks a nearby trashcan. You don't realize your hands are balled into fists until your nails tear at the skin. That smug smile of the driver in your mind makes your blood boil. Lorcan kicks the trashcan and it topples over, garbage spilling on the sidewalk. You look at your watch. You're wasting time. You would need to go now to arrive at the Palmer's before dark. Or... You could get back at those boys. Lorcan grips the bikes handles, his eyes on the ground and directly parallel to you. <hr>\ * [[Go to the Palmer's.|Sammy-Lorcan2]] * [[Get revenge.|Sammy-Lorcan2][$revengeL to true]] </h3>

<h3>“Out of all the best superheroes you pick out the one who doesn't even have superpowers,” Lorcan scolds. <<audio "investigation" stop>> Imre huffs, “speaking of boring, what do you call your spider hero? That's every five year old child's favorite hero before their brain's develop.” Lorcan blows a raspberry, “whatever dude. Superhero comics aren't even the best type of comics.” “Oh pray tell you comic conoisseur. What is in your most expert opinion the best comic books?” Imre mocks. Lorcan punches the Imre's headrest. “Tales from the crypt.” Imre moves his head from left to right, “not a horrible choice. Although EC comics exceled in their science fiction.” “You're just fucking saying that because I'm right!“ “I wouldn't be so petty,” Imre says with a sly smile. “Fucking psycho,” Lorcan says, entering into a bitter rant, calling Imre everything under the sun. They've been at this for the last ten minutes. You don't know how it started but it seems that they always find something to disagree on and go from there. You have your forehead leaned against the window, vacantly watching the scenery pass and trying to cancel out the fighting. But the more calm and collected Imre's responses are the more angry Lorcan gets. Lorcan kicks at Imre's seat and the car jerks. The seatbelt digs into your shoulder. Imre's smile slips and he says, “are you mentally deranged? Do you know if I lose control of the car you'll die too?” Lorcan kicks the seat more and Imre slams on the brakes. He turns around in his seat, a sharp look in his eyes. <hr>\ * [[Diffuse it.|Sammy-3(2)][$diffuse to true]] * [[Let them kill each other.|Sammy-3(2)][$neutral to true]] * [[Needle them.|Sammy-3(2)][$needle to true]] </h3>

<h3>You two are silent for a moment, your eyes catch the notebook Imre tossed to Lorcan at the lodge. Not knowing why, you snatch it from Lorcan's pocket and let the wind move the pages, trying to peek at anything he might've written. Lorcan looks over his shoulder at the notebook in your hand and turns forward. “Do you think Imre will be able to get anything out of Candace's mom?” Underneath Lorcan's armpit you see his hand tightly against the handle. “Who gives a shit, we both chose Stephanie's boyfriend because it was the better bet,” he responds. “Yeah but—“ “But what?! Why do you have to mention him anyway?!“ Your eyebrows knit together at his outburt. “I can fucking do this without him you know.” You can only see the barest sliver of his face from this position but by the moving of his jaw you can sense his mounting anger. “I never said you couldn't. You're putting words into my mouth,” you reply calmly. “Imre Imre Imre Imre,” Lorcan repeats with a high-pitched tone. You let out an exasperated breath, “forget I asked.” “Obviously.” Before you can even settle back into mindless riding, the bike arrives at the trailer park. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph3]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan peddles slower as you pass the slanted, rotting wood sign that says in peeling, fancy lettering '//WELCOME TO CAMELOT IN THE MEADOWS!//' The sign is seeping into the dirt, most of the space on it is graffitied, a giant squirting penis finishes over the MEADOWS portion. The path to the trailers is dirt, the dirt rises up from the ground and prickles your eyes. The yellow grass lays in sparse clumps by the trailers and the air smells of meat and wet laundry that's been left in the washer for too long. The path leads you two between the columns of homes, organized as neatly as they can be without strict rules of private property. The mobile homes themself look nearly identical to one another. White with small porches leading out to the path you're riding on. Some of them have stickers on the sides, others are leaning against the ground as wheels are deflated. Some windows are wiped while others have ripped screens that flap against the frame. At the end of dirt path, far ahead you see an actual brick and mortar house. You remember hearing that Lorcan lives with his grandmother in a house at the trailer park. Lorcan looks quickly back at you and follows your eyes, “yeah that's me.” You don't time to really focus on the house before you see people coming out of their homes to look at you. Men in boxers, women with robes or shorts and children who you're surprised to see some naked. Children scratching their messy hair, children with dirty hands and dirty toenails who look far too bony to be healthy. A little girl, follows you as you pass her, unblinking brown eyes seem to try and penetrate your skull. Most of the children and in turn their parents are tan or brown. You know the town is mostly white but up until this point you never thought where most of the other types of people lived. Lorcan's words, berating your refusal to see the difference between you and the less fortunate ring in your ears. <<if $lorcancall>>\ You didn't even know your maid was called Lily. <</if>>\ Lorcan breaks with his foot and your nose bounces off his back. Lorcan throws his leg over the tube and rubbing your nose you look at the trailer you stopped in front of. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph4]] </h3>

<h3>Daryl takes several long sips of his beer while Lorcan swishes the beer around his mouth. “She was a real hoot y'know,” Daryl says suddenly. He looks at you, “one of those people who had dreams, big dreams and was gonna get out of here. Go to college and be a cheerleader, 'make captain' she would say.” When you two say nothing he adds, “some people really don't deserve to die. She could be a party girl and a bit of hoe but she had a good heart.” He pats his chest. <<if $daryl is 'take it, you need a drink.'>>You break the seal of your beer can and take a deep sip. The taste initially makes you want to spit out but you swallow. You purse your lips as you peek into the dark hole of the can. You take another sip anyway.<<elseif $daryl is 'take it, just to hold it.'>>You break the seal of your beer can and listen to the little bubbles pop. The condensation runs down the length of the can and coats your fingers. You think it's smart to not drink alcohol from a man as unkempt as Daryl.<</if>> You see the five o'clock shadow on Daryl's double chin. When Lorcan said Stephanie had a boyfriend you thought he was around your age. This man is at least double that. Sally would warn you about older people who were 'strange' and that you shouldn't be around them if you felt they were being 'weird' with you. You were too young to understand what that meant. Your fingers slightly crunch the can. The odours of the trailer seeming much more prominent than before.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You can still feel his eyes roaming your body, you can taste bile in your mouth.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Even though he wasn't looking at you that way, it made you feel sick. You can't imagine how his eyes would feel if he was interested in you.<</if>> “So... how's Alice's?” Lorcan asks. Daryl shrugs nonchalantly, “same old shit same old shit.” Lorcan hums. “Daryl here is a bartender at the bar,” Lorcan mentions to you. You make an 'oh' face. Daryl seems to take your silence as something else and sneers, “have something to say?” You lean forward on your knees and look him in the eyes. “I could, but not about your job.” <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>\ Daryl leans forward too, his face going red. Lorcan looks between you two and squeezes your shoulder, leaning you closer to him. “Babeeee,” he says in a cyanide tone, “didn't you say you wanted to ask him where he was the night Stephanie disappeared?'<<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>Daryl leans forward too, his face going red. Lorcan looks between you two and takes the notebook from where you left it on your lap. Pencil poised he asks, “Daryl where were you the night Stephanie disappeared?”<</if>> Daryl's eyes snap away from yours and he responds gruffly, “at Alice's. I was there everynight for the whole week, you can check the work records or ask any drunkard that goes there.” <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>\ Your mouth stretches into a smile, the skin feeling dry and plastic. You turn to face Lorcan who does the same. You two stare at each other, your noses inches apart. Both of you making uncomfortable and in certain lights, crazed smiles. Your breaths intermingle. “Thanks, //babe//,” you manage to get out. Lorcan's eyes flick down to your smile, his painfully stretched one lowers a fraction and then a half and then completely. His arm slides off of you and looking at nothing he says monotonously, “it's nothing babe.” You feel like the wind came in through a window and made your body feel colder. Daryl is watching you two, eyes narrowed. “Did Stephanie say anything to? Anything that sounded strange or abnormal?” The moment broken by your voice makes Daryl take another sip of his beer. Lorcan is still turned away from you. Smacking his lips Daryl responds, “hmmm. Anything strange? Apart from the normal teenage girl bullshit?” “Yeah.” Daryl looks thoughtfully at his beer and slowly says, “come to think of it, yeah. She said one thing that was really fucking weird.” Lorcan turns his head back, only to look at Daryl. You ignore him and lean forward. “What was it?” “She said that she was being watched.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph7]] <<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>\ Your mouth stretches into a smile, the skin feeling dry and plastic. You turn to face Lorcan who does the same. Two sets of eyes boring into each other. Both of you making uncomfortable and in certain lights, crazed smiles. You could make a case for friendliness or murder. “Thanks, //pal//,” you spit out. Lorcan's nose scrunches at the word. His smiles drops completely, his barely concealed rage painted all over his face. His mouth moves around, as if he's trying to stop a litany of insults from escaping. He pushes out, “you're welcome, pal.” The sun might be out and baking the room because you feel like your nerves are ready to explode. Daryl is watching you two, eyes narrowed. “Did Stephanie say anything to? Anything that sounded strange or abnormal?” The moment broken by your voice makes Daryl take another sip of his beer. Lorcan's shimmering anger dissipates. Smacking his lips Daryl responds, “hmmm. Anything strange? Apart from the normal teenage girl bullshit?” “Yeah.” Daryl looks thoughtfully at his beer and slowly says, “come to think of it, yeah. She said one thing that was really fucking weird.” Lorcan;s body goes still, ignoring him you ask, “what was it?” “She said that she was being watched.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph7]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You feel Lorcan's eyes on you but your mind wanders to that feeling you got on the first day of school. You felt like something or someone was watching you in the night. Could Stephanie have felt the same thing? <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>Lorcan quickly scribbles something down.<<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>You write that down.<</if>> “We heard that Stephanie was going to party, did she tell you who's party it was or where it was?” you ask. Daryl tips his head back and greedily swallows the final beer in his can before wiping his mouth and crunching it under his fist. “Nah, she was acting really fucking weird the last few days, she just said she needed to go somewhere.” <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>Lorcan sighs and closes the notebook, shoving it back in his pocket. You hold out your hand, he raises an eyebrow and you jerk your head to his pocket. He takes it out again and hands it to you, his fingers lightly slide against your palm and you jerk back this time.<<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>You close the notebook, thinking of giving it back to Lorcan and leaving this place but instead you keep it open on your lap.<</if>> Daryl throws the crushed can against the wall, it bounces off and joins the other tons of cans on the floor. Rubbing his stomach he watches you. Your shoulders stiffen and you feel uneasy in your skin. A slow smile spread across his gross mug, “huh, I knew you looked familiar. Just took me I second.” Oh here you go. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You're the girl who killed your sister,” he points to Lorcan, “his girlfriend!“<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're the boy who killed your sister,” he points to Lorcan, “his girlfriend!“<</if>> Lorcan stiffens. “I'm not here about that Daryl,” you say lowly. <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>\ Daryl claps his hands and motions with his dirty finger between you both. “So you're keeping the fucking in the family? Didn't know you were such a dog Lorcan,” he exclaims delightedly. “Orla is not the reason we're together,” you hasten to say. Daryl claps his hands again like a seal, “oh shit this is fucked even for me.” You feel the rage practically radiated off Lorcan. He's staring daggers at Daryl, his nose flared and his teeth bared. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He licks his lips and asks Lorcan, “so did you hate that bitch so much you fucked this one or do you believe she didn't kill her?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He licks his lips and asks Lorcan, “so did you hate that bitch so much you fucked this one or do you believe he didn't kill her?”<</if>> <<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>\ Daryl claps his hands and motions with his dirty finger between you both. “Is this really a report or are you two banging?” he asks with a big smile. “We're not 'banging',” you explain between gritted teeth, “we're not even friends.” Daryl blows a raspberry, “ah shit that's boring. Ya'll don't know how to make your lies more fun in this shithole town.” You feel the shimmering anger in Lorcan. His face is stony as he watches Daryl talk, one more thing and he'll explode. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He licks his lips and asks Lorcan, “so if you're hanging out with this girl that means you don't believe she killed her or do ya?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He licks his lips and asks Lorcan, “so if you're hanging out with this boy that means you don't believe he killed her or do ya?”<</if>> <</if>>\ Lorcan shoots up and advances on Daryl. Standing over him you see his closed fists raised. The man doesn't look fazed. He raises one hand and pats Lorcan on the arm. When the boy remains ready to pound him bloody the man lifts a thumbs up. “It's ok kid. Peace. I didn't mean to get you going.” Lorcan breathes loudly through his nose. Daryl smiles and says, “I've got just the thing to cheer up you.” He gets up and goes to a cabinet by his bed. You don't see what he's getting as he rummages around. Lorcan stands frozen in his place. <<if $fakedatinglorcan >>\ “Lorcan, sit down,” you say softly and pat the spot beside you. Lorcan swallows and you think he didn't hear you or simply didn't care. He looks down and it seems to take all the effort for him to move but he slowly walks back to the couch and sits down. His hand lays on his lap and he turns it up. He doesn't meet your eyes but his fingers slightly curl. Tentively you lay your hand in his, your fingers sliding in between the gaps in his. He shivers but doesn't jerk away. Just then Daryl sits back down and holds out a joint. He lights it and in a few seconds the smell floods your nose. You've smelled marijuana before, around the doors exiting the school, in the bathrooms and on Lorcan before. Daryl holds it out to you, an attempt at a friendly smile on his face. “What do you say?” <hr>\ * [[Take it.]] * [[Decline.]] <<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>\ “Lorcan, just sit down,” you command. “Don't tell me what do,” he says coldly. You sigh and respond, “it's not worth it. Who cares what a gross asshole has to say about anything?” Lorcan shakes his head. Maybe he's too stubborn or maybe he doesn't care about whatever you say. He looks down and it seems to take all the effort for him to move but he slowly walks back to the couch and sits down. He glances at you, his eyes still angry and you don't know at who. He looks away, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Just then Daryl sits back down and holds out a joint. He lights it and in a few seconds the smell floods your nose. You've smelled marijuana before, around the doors exiting the school, in the bathrooms and on Lorcan before. Daryl holds it out to you, an attempt at a friendly smile on his face. “What do you say?” <hr>\ * [[Take it.]] * [[Decline.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Schooling your face into what you hope is a serious no-bullshit expression, you say as hard and intentful as possible, “you either tell me what you know or I'm sure the police would love to know you were fucking a high schooler.” Lorcan's eyes shoot to you, meanwhile Daryl's blase and condescending attitude is immediately replaced by utter surprise, anger and fear. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” You shrug, “you heard me. You either tell me what you know or I'll go tell about your... peculiar tastes.” You feel a small smile spread across your lips, “you like them young don't you? I'm sure there are others probably not even old enough to vote.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Daryl's eyes widen and he looks to Lorcan, “control your girlfriend.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Daryl's eyes widen and he looks to Lorcan, “tell your friend to not say anything he'd regret.”<</if>> Lorcan raises his hands in surrender, “none of my business.” Daryl looks helpless as he looks back to you. Your eyes bore into him. You feel something bloom inside your gut as you watch him relent. “That fuckface, her dad-slash-cousin, Mr. Wisteria apparently pressured the police to close the investigation, to say she died due to an accident,” he admits. You and Lorcan quickly exchange glances. From what you know about Stephanie is that she technically belonged to the Wisteria clan, another rich family in town. Still looking at Daryl, Lorcan asks you, “do you know what your sister's death was ruled as?” “No,” you answer slowly. //However, the newspaper said it was an accident//, is what you think but don't say. “And I thought your parents were shit,” Lorcan says more to himself than you. You two individually ponder this information. You $habit as you think of a possible reason for Mr. Wisteria's decision. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Daryl looks down at your legs and his panic-stricken face contorts to a smarmy smile, “well now that you know what I like, how about it darling? Mind I take ya out? I know how to show a little girl a good time.” Lorcan's eyes snap to Daryl and he warns, “Daryl leave her alone.” Daryl spits near Lorcan's shoes, “you're just a boy, what do you know about handling a cute little bitch like that?” Daryl's sitting so close to the couch that Lorcan easily launches himself at him. You stand up as the two men crash to the floor. Beer cans crunch under their bodies as they both wrestle to be on top. They have their hands gripped around each other's biceps, wrestling to push the other down. Daryl knees Lorcan in the stomach and he gasps. The fat man rolls on top of him and punches him hard in the face. You stand there, unsure how to help. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Daryl's panic-stricken face hasn't stopped looking at you but once he sees that your menacing aura is gone his face contorts into a cruel smile, “you think I'm a sicko? You're the one here getting a hard-on about a dead little bitch. Do you pull on your pecker while you think about Steph? Fuck, you might've killed her. You look the type.” Lorcan's eyes snap to Daryl and he warns, “Daryl leave him alone.” Daryl spits near Lorcan's shoes, “awww protecting your little faggy boyfriend? Nevermind him strokin' it you suck him off don't you?” Daryl's sitting so close to the couch that Lorcan easily lauches himself at him. You stand up as the two men crash to the floor. Beer cans crunch under their bodies as they both wrestle to be on top. They have their hands gripped around each other's biceps, wrestling to push the other down. Daryl knees Lorcan in the stomach and he gasps. The fat man rolls on top of him and punches him hard in the face. You stand there, unsure how to help. <</if>> [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph11]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan's head snaps against the floor and as Daryl lifts his fist to hit him again you see that blood is sliding out of his nose and down his face. He makes eye contact with you, his gray eyes snuffed out. <hr>\ * [[You hit Daryl over the head with a lamp.->Lorcan-Steph11]] * [[You launch yourself at Daryl.]] * [[You freeze.]] </h3>

<h3><<if $weed >>\ You lose conciousness and suddenly you're sitting down on the bike. Lorcan's bike. Daryl's patting Lorcan's shoulder and as you look at the sky you realize it's been many hours. Daryl hands you a small baggie and it pulses, with a dumbfounded face you ask what it is. He grins and replies, “it's for whenever you wanna go on a journey,” he pokes your forehead, “again.” You nod, your head too loose from your neck and so it feels like you're a bobble head. <<if $hips >>You throw your arms around Lorcan's stomach and he slowly rides along the path past the rows of houses. The group of kids follow you with their eyes and you wiggle your fingers at them.<<elseif not $hips>>You practically hug the tub and Lorcan slowly rides along the path past the rows of houses. The group of kids follow you with their eyes and you wiggle your fingers at them.<</if>> You close your eyes as you feel the wind hitting your face and racing through your hair. It feels heavenly. Your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton and your nerves hum pleasantly. Time passes — it feels far too soon to you — and you reach the familiar lights of Main Street. Lorcan moves the handles to the left and to the right, making the bike move around in curls up the street. You smile lazily. The effects of the weed begin their descent where you aren't fully sober but you still could hold a coherent conversation. Lorcan slows down and says, “we didn't do shit. Imre's going to be so pissed.” Lorcan laughs and you laugh too. Just thinking of Imre's disappointed face makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. Lorcan stops by the convenience store and comes out with coffee. You two sit on the curb and drink in silence. Not a hostile silence as the ones you usually have with him. It feels peaceful. Calm. Lorcan looks to you and looks away, a small smile on his face. You want to say something but you feel it'll break this moment apart. You hold onto it for as long as you can. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] <<elseif not $weed>>\ Seeing a cheap lamp that severely clashes with the rest of the “decor“ of the trailer you grab it, pull it from it's socket and smash it over Daryl's head. It shatters over his greasy hair and the pieces fly in all directions, some landing on Lorcan who blinks up at Daryl. He pushes the man off of him while he's holding his head and groaning. Daryl tumbles to the ground and the trailer shakes. Lorcan scrambles up and grabs your hand, throwing the door open and pulling you out with him. The children you saw before are still in group, in front of the trailer. Lorcan picks up his bike and waits for you to behind him. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You stupid little cunt!“ Daryl screams from inside and stumbles his way out the door.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You stupid little fuck! Daryl screams from inside and stumbles his way out the door.<</if>> Lorcan peddles frantically as Daryl's fingers skim your jacket. The kids disperse as Daryl runs after the bike. You pass by the other residents who look bored at the spectacle.<<if $hips >> You hug his stomach tightly.<<elseif not $hips>>You grip the tube for dear life<</if>> Dary follows nearly to the exit when he heaves and bends over, his hairy hands on his knees. Lorcan speeds out the trailer park to the road and maintains that speed until you see the familiar stoplights of Main Street. Lorcan stops the bike near a bench and you slide off and sit down. Lorcan remains on the bike, breathing heavily. You find that you're also breathing hard. You two look at each other, breathless. Suddenly, Lorcan laughs. A genuine laugh. Free of the usual malice he has for you. Stunned, you continue breathing as you watch him laugh. You lick your lips, unsure of how to proceed. His laughing slightly dies down and he says, “fuck me that was insane. You fucking...you did it.” You raise your eyebrows, “did what?” Lorcan shrugs, “he was going to beat the shit out of me and you...,” he jerks his hand back to his shoulder, “you did it.” You let out a breath from your lips that sounds like a cross between a snort and laugh, “are you... trying to say 'thank you'?” Lorcan shakes his head. “In your dreams.” <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Ok, either way I'm glad I did.”]] * [[♡ “You're right only in dreams could you be as badass.”]] * [[⟡ “Fine, let's not ruin this moment of truce.”]] * [[You shake your head.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>The leaves fly over your shoes. The temperature has gone down as the sunset. It didn't feel like you were at Daryl's trailer for that long. <<audio "investigation" stop>> <<if $weed>>That's probably because you got high as kite. When Imre arrived he kept looking at you, specifically your eyes. You think he knew but he didn't say anything which was more affect in showing his disapproval.<<elseif not $weed>>You did waste precious daylight in trying to get Daryl to not be a gross creep and cooperate. Imre was impressed you two resorted to blackmail to get what you wanted.<</if>> <<if $weed>>\ “Candace's mother told me that her daughter's death was ruled an accident in spite of her wishes to the contrary,” Imre tells. “Given your circumstance,” he says pointedly as he eyes you, “I'm guessing you didn't get much.” “Nah but I don't think Daryl knows anything. He's a creep but he was working that night,” Lorcan replies. “It's a guess but I would say that if we looked into the ruling of Stephanie's murder we would likely not see it ruled as such,” Imre suggests. <<elseif not $weed>> “Candace's mother told me that her daughter's death was ruled a despite her wishes to the contrary,” Imre tells. “And Stephanie's was ruled an accident,” you say. Imre has written those words down next to their pictures. “Did you get the impression that Daryl had something to do with her death?” Lorcan scratches at the wood of the picnic table, “nah. He's gross but he was at Alice's that night.” <</if>> Imre rubs his chin, “at least from what I got from Candace's, not all the parents were careless of their daughters. Some weren't and that means that there is possibly a conspiracy here.” “The police are involved, shocker,” Lorcan says sarcastically. “We need to know more,” Imre attests. “This pile of two girls is too small, if this has been going on for as long as we think we need to go back.” Lorcan, still scratching at the table suggests, “maybe old asshole Crown has something we can use.” Imre looks to Lorcan, intrigued. You look to Lorcan and he says, “your dad, duh.” You purse your lips, “hmmm. He might have some stuff in the attic. He was always boasting about our family legacy, if we're looking at the town's history that would be a good place to start.” Imre starts putting the notebooks and missing posters in his satchel, “let's not waste time then.” [[NEXT->Page 278A]] </h3>

<h3>Since Imre turned the radio off, the only thing in the car with noise is the gentle humming from the car itself. Miraculously, Imre is not the one to speak on and on. You could've stayed in this silence, watching mindlessly as the trees and people passed the window but for some reason you wondered how Lorcan was fairing. In a group of three he's the odd one out. That's usually your place. “Do you think Lorcan will be able to get anything out of Stephanie's boyfriend?” Imre's fingers were thrumming to a tune only he could hear against the leather of the wheel when you said that and they stopped. He glances at you from the corner of his eye and says, “it's likely not.” You are a tad surprised at how quickly Imre dismisses Lorcan. You don't have a good relationship with him but Imre apparently likes everyone. “So he's off doing nothing? Then he probably should've tagged along with us, strength in numbers and all that,” you say. Imre's gaze is still on you, his face in a neutral expression. “Did you want him to come with us?” You shake your head, “it's not about that, it's just we should be efficient right?” “Since when did you stop hating him?” he asks abruptly. You're taken aback by the question. “What do you know about any of that?” His face hasn't changed at all but for some reason you feel he doesn't look as unfazed as he was moments ago. “I know you mean well but Lorcan... Lorcan is useless. I know it's rude to say and I would never be as a cruel to repeat these words to him but he's simply not good enough. Especially not good enough for you,” he responds, his voice getting oddly friendly as he finishes as if he wasn't saying something awful about someone else. Your eyebrows pinch together and you begin to say, “that's not what I—“ “Ah, look, we've arrived,” he interrupts with a pleasant tone, his fingers once again thrumming contently. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace3]] </h3>

<h3>You didn't know what you had been expecting but the fact that Candace's mother lived in a rundown home in a clearing in the woods wasn't it. The town, for all its seeming perfection had certain “warts.” Things left over from other times that were forgotten by those who aim to make the town as picturesque as possible. There were certain homes built god-knows-when randomly in town. Like a child who forgot to pick up the small toys that were thrown under his bed. Homes that even the electric and hydro companies forgot existed. The leaves crunch under the heavy tires of the car. He rolls to a stop and turns off the car. Both of you lean forward to look up at the house. It's foundation is being swallowed up by the ground, the house slants to the side. The roof is missing some tiles that fell on the dirt in front of it. Old handprints are engraved on the dusty windows who suffers from cracks ready to break. The gutter tube spouts out a brown liquid along with leaves. Imre and you exchange a glance and get out. Your feet seep into the ground that is soft despite not looking it. You two stop almost shoulder to shoulder in front of the chipped wooden door. The doorbell hangings limply by electric cords. “I wonder if my father thinks he's doing people a kindness by not “bothering“ them while they live like this,” Imre ponders. The strong, tall trees that you're used to seeing are in this place surrounded by weak, broken short ugly trees that have lost many branches. Walking through them would surely rip your clothes. “He knows about homes like these?” “He knows everything,” he says coldly. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace4]] </h3>

<h3>Imre goes up the rickety steps, the rotten wood croaking under his Italian shoes. He lifts the broken doorbell and lets it swing against the door frame. He knocks. Your eyes move around and you're nearly startled when you see a face in the window. They quickly move away and a few seconds pass before you hear movement by the door. It opens slightly, a chain preventing it from opening completely and a face peers out beneath it. Dull gray eyes study you two before a raspy voice asks, “you aren't Jehovah's Witnesses are you?” You hear some scratching beneath the woodenn steps Imre is on. You only see the back of Imre's head as he tilts it. “Hello Mrs. Franklin, I'm Imre Duran. I went to school with your daughter,” he says in a friendly voice. Mrs. Franklin's eyes squint, “you're the mayor's son aren't you?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Before he can reply she looks to you and says, “and you're the one from the newspaper, the crazy girl who everyone says killed the beauty queen.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Before he can reply she looks to you and says, “and you're the one from the newspaper, the crazy boy who everyone says killed the beauty queen.”<</if>> Imre throws you a glance and then turns back to the woman. “Mrs. Franklin, we were wondering if we could come in and talk? That is, if you're not too busy.” She looks at him a moment and shuts the door. You hear something unlatch and the door swings open. She turns away and walks into the darkness of the house. Imre smiles at you quickly and goes inside. You put one foot on the sagging step and a raccoon hurries out from underneath, jutting past your legs and into the woods. You look at the direction it goes in for a moment, odd. There's not many wildlife here. You climb up the steps, and follow after Imre's wake. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace5]] </h3>

<h3>You blink several times to get your eyes to adjust to the dimness of the house, or at least the living room. When you do you see that the reason it's so dark in here is not only because the windows are dirty but because they are so boarded up. Bits of daylight stream weakly through the slits. Piles of clothes, magazines, old food cartons litter the floor, your shoes squishing them as you stop in front of the brownish couch where Mrs. Franklin throws herself. Imre sticks his hands in his trousers and looks around. When you stop next to him you can see he retains a strained smile. Close-lipped. “You're home has much personality, Mrs. Franklin,” Imre says kindly. Mrs. Franklin ignores him, taking a bottle she has on the short table next to her and unscrewing the cap. She takes several long gulps before wiping her mouth with her bathrobe. “Well? Are you going to stand there or are you gonna sit down?” she asks. “Of course, thank you,” Imre says and goes to a small loveseat, his hand hovering over the cans and old dishes on it. His fingers slightly curl and you see his mouth twist into a grimace which quickly disperses when he swipes the garbage from it and sits down. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ You finally get a good look at her. Mrs. Franklin wears a fuzzy purple bathrope with penguins in hats on it. It's opened to reveal a matching pajama pant and a black bra. Her fuzzy red hair tumbles this and that way over her head. She notices you staring and she says, “when I was a kid they used to say that you could tell when someone was crazy by just looking at their face. Guess they were wrong, cause you sure are a pretty normal girl.” Imre smiles at you, “I would say she's a normal pretty girl.” Feeling two pairs of eyes on you, you feel itchy. Like you want to swath yourself with the clothing on the floor. Blatant compliments are foreign. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ You finally get a good look at her. Mrs. Franklin wears a fuzzy purple bathrope with penguins in hats on it. It's opened to reveal a matching pajama pant and a black bra. Her fuzzy red hair tumbles this and that way over her head. She notices you staring and she says, “whether you're really crazy or not I gotta say you are handsome. You never know with those rich families and how they fuck each other. I guess you're lucky, my daughter should've dated a boy like you.” Imre looks to you,”if only she would've been so lucky.” Feeling two pairs of eyes on you, you feel itchy. Like you want to swath yourself with the clothing on the floor. Blatant compliments are foreign. <</if>> Mrs. Franklin takes a kettle that was next to the bottle and peeks inside. “There's some tea in here if ya'll want some,” she says. She pours brown liquid into two plastic cups and offers one to Imre who accepts, his nose threatening to scrunch up in disgust. She offers the second cup to you and you... <<cycle '$tea' autoselect>><<option 'accept.'>><<option 'accept but you are not planning to drink it.'>><</cycle>> Taking the cup with both hands you feel it's gone cold. Mrs. Franklin her arm, her hand flopping to the side so her palm's facing upwards. “Are you going to sit? You're making me nervous.” If you sit on the floor, it'll create a distance between you and Imre, she's wondering what the hell you two are here for. If you sit on the floor it'll give the impression you and Imre are just friends or just peers but if you sit next to him in such a small seat it'll make her think you two are dating. <hr>\ * [[You lay crossed-legged on the floor.]] * [[You squeeze next to Imre.]] </h3>

<h3>Imre pulls out his notebook with one hand and flips through the pages. Given how far he flips to it seems he already has things written down there. He stops and then asks, “why was your daughter's death ruled a suicide?” You didn't know that. He never told you this. You stare at Imre, willing him to look at you but his gaze remains as blase as ever.<<if $fakedatingImre >> His thumb rubs your leg and your breath hitches.<<elseif not $fakedatingImre>>He clicks open his pen, pressing it to the page.<</if>> Anna takes a swing of her bottle and smacks her lips. She does this for a few seconds before saying, “we went to school together. Back then my maiden name was Crock. I was a nobody and he was... he was Thomas Fitzgerald.” You and Imre exchange glances. Imre looks like he wants to continue on with his questioning but you shake your head. He looks at you for a long second and surprisingly complies. Anna, a faraway look in her eyes, continues, “we didn't know then. His dad had cheated on his mom with so many women I just never thought my mom was one of those women.” “Anna, were you and Thomas Fitzgerald—“ “Half-siblings? Trust me we didn't like it either,” she responds with a dry laugh. “The damage was done by then, in nine months we would see if I had birthed a mongoloid or not,” Anna jests cruelly. “Our father didn't like it at all, and he gave me two options, either we leave town with our tail between our legs or Thomas marries one of those rich uppity girls and keeps all his daddy's money.” She looks to you, “you probably know which one he chose.” “Why didn't you tell anyone?” you ask. Anna sniffs the top of the lid, “I was the daughter of a stay-at-home-mom and a post office clerk, who would believe me?” You run your finger along the lid of the cup to not have to look at her. What could you say? You are part of that world that tossed her aside. “I always imagined how my revenge would go, I spent so much time dreaming about it I forgot to do it,” she says to herself. <<if $fakedatingImre >>\ She eyes you and Imre. She watches his fingers twitch on your leg. “When you're young you believe the person you love will love you forever. That they feel as intensely as you do. But there is something always more important and powerful to them than you,” this last past she directs to you. You don't know where it comes from but you lay your hand on Imre's, interlacing your fingers with his, digging your nails a bit into his flesh. He makes a low pleasant noise in his throat. “I don't think that'll happen to us,” you reply with a smile. “Of course it won't cariño,” Imre gazes lovingly at you. His eyes so penetrating that the full force of his acting hits you in the face and you look away. <<elseif not $fakedatingImre>>\ She eyes you on the floor. Even though she's higher up she feels so small compared to you sitting like a little kid amongst her trash, “Never put in stock on love kiddo. You're more likely to fall on your ass. Especially with the pretty ones who smile at you,” she jerks her head to Imre who doesn't seem fazed at all. He laughs. You shrug and reply, “you're preaching to the choir Anna. I'm not interested in love.” Anna holds up her bottle to cheer you, “you're smarter than you look then.” She gulps down two long sections of her bottle and you're surprised it still has more. Of course you don't really know how long it takes to finish one of those. Imre shakes his head with a bemused smile on his lips. <</if>> “Did Thomas ever interact with Candace?” Imre asks. Anna shakes her head and then stops, “well not for most of her life. In the last year he did invite her to those fancy-schmasy parties you rich people have but he wouldn't talk to her.” Imre wrote this down in what looks like shorthand and then taps the paper with his pen, “back to my original question if you don't mind, do you know why Candace's death was ruled a suicide?” Anna shakes her head, slowly. Her eyes on the bottle and refusing to elaborate. Imre sighs exasperated, low enough only for you to hear. “Candace was going to a party the night she disappeared right? Do you know where this party was or who was hosting it?” you ask. She shrugs and says, “not exactly. If I would guess what kind of low-lifes she was hanging out with at the time that would put her in danger I would say that blond brat.” “Who?” you lean forward, already thinking you know who. By the darkening of Imre's face you think he has the same idea. “Lorcan Stark,” Anna says. <<set $lorcanC to true>> [[NEXT->Imre-Candace7]] </h3>

<h3>Presumbly what Imre writes down next is Lorcan's name. “But that's an educated guess,” you say. “I would say it's a great guess,” Imre ventures. <<if $fakedatingImre >>\ You squeeze his hand in your own and say softly, “you are being a bit biased, don't you think?” Imre smiles sardonically and leans in to whisper in your ear, “I'm merely going off what we know, my love.” His breath tickles your ear. He stays there breathing on you for a moment before leaning back. Anna grimaces and says, “could you two lower it down a bit? I don't wanna see two kids making out on my couch.” <<elseif not $fakedatingImre>>\ You stand up and walk over to him, leaning close enough for only him to hear you. “I get you don't like him, he's not my favourite either but we can't allow this case to be tainted by bias,” you advise. Imre nods, “of course, that's reasonable. But my personal feelings towards Lorcan have nothing to do with this. Any person hanging around Candace in the time before her death should be looked into, don't you think?” Before you can respond, Anna chimes in with, “I really hope you're not about to sit on him. I don't want to kids having sex on my couch.” You sigh and sit back down on the ground, this time next Imre's legs, your back leaning against the couch. <</if>> “About this party, apart from an idea of who could've invited her, do you have any idea where it was being held?” Imre inquires. She takes a small sip of her vodka before answering, “she didn't call it a 'party.' She just said she was going out. And then she said something that even at the time I thought was weird.” She looks at you both, “she said //'don't worry because we were going to be rich.'// Just like you two.” “So whoever she was meeting was someone rich, one of the families of the town,” you muse to Imre. He doesn't say anything but does write it down. Anna seems to study you both, from your faces to your clothes down to your shoes and each time she seems to get more annoyed. “You people come into our lives and do away with them. Is it fun for you? Because your kind are always ok... you get a whim and you're lives are unchanged while someone is screwed. And it's like a poison, not even the kids are innocent because you're born with this sickness,” she says angrily. Imre sets his pen down and faces her with a blank face. “I think you're upset about your daughter's death and perhaps we should give you a moment to recuperate.” Anna shakes her head, “does all that perfection make you go crazy? Is that why you went crazy?” You inhale, knowing and not liking where this is going. “Do you like being near $himher because you're sick of it and the only one who can destroy a rich person is another rich person?” she asks Imre. “You hardly know me, Anna. I'm rather content with my life,” he replies, unfazed. “If you were you wouldn't be hanging out with someone who might kill you,” she looks down and seems to be about to drop the topic when she slowly looks up at him with a realization on her face. “It's because $heshe can kill you isn't it?” <<if $fakedatingImre >>\ Imre just smirks, taking a pillow from behind him and laying it on his crotch. “I'm just in love, nothing more,” he responds kindly. <<elseif not $fakedatingImre>>\ Imre continues to smirk, relaxing his body against the couch and unlike you not being swallowed by it.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> “She's just my partner,” he replies in kind.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> “He's just my partner,” he replies in kind.<</if>> <</if>> She yawns, and holds out the bottle. “Any takers?” <hr>\ * [[You reach for it.]] * [[You decline.]] </h3>

<h3>It does sound like you were. You never had parents growing up so you might not know what a good parent looks like. Because it's definitely not common for your older brother to be your dad. Maybe parents don't breathe down children's necks? You put up your hands in a sign of peace, “I'm trying to get a picture of who she was, it can't be possible that no one knows anything. That's why we're here, Anna.” Before answering you she takes a swing of her bottle, her eyes glued to yours, “and why should I keep answering anything two random kids ask?” Imre and you look at each other and while his eyes seem blank to anyone else, you're learning how to read them when he wants you to, in all the times you two have met up in the last month. Someone has to do the dirty work. <hr>\ * [[You blackmail Anna.->Imre-Candace9]] * [[You let Imre handle her.->Imre-Candace9*]] </h3>

<h3>He sees something in your eyes and his own glint in responds. He leans back into the couch as if to say 'it's all yours.' You clasp your hands together and lay your elbows on your knees. A small smile forms on your lips. <<set $threatening to true>> “You're daughter has been forgotten, no one but you mourns her. No one but you gives a shit she's gone. But you know what will happen when everyone finds out she was an incest baby? That she was a disgusting abomination?” you ask innocently as the venom pours from somewhere deep inside. Anna sits up, tensely laying the bottle on the table, “what the hell are you saying?” You shrug and your smile shows your teeth, “what's worse? Being forgotten or being remembered in infamy? What legacy do you want for your daughter? Because whispers are one thing but actual confirmation is another.” Imre's smile is sharp, a vicious statue of an angel. He watches the scene in anticipation. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “You wouldn't,” she whispers. You snort, “oh you do know how awful my kind of people are. If we're capable of incest we're capable of simply blackmail to a poor pathetic drunk in a shitty house.” Somewhere in the house you hear the ticking of a clock. You and Anna remain locked in eye contact. Her expression shows a mix of anger, surprise but a hint of fear. You silently watch as the three emotions battle it out on her face. Until one wins. She looks down and a gasp like an animal being kicked leaves her lips. When she looks up her eyes are glassy, pooling things of brown. “I don't know about the party but I did notice she was missing right away,” she cries. “I wasn't a bad mother, I went to the station and I begged for them to report her missing, I stayed there for hours until they kicked me out.” You hear Imre scribbling. “And?” you press. She shakes her head a few times a snot-filled sniff preceding her answer, “I called and called the station but they wouldn't answer my calls so I looked for her myself. All they did was post her picture up at the station. When she showed up at the fair, with her injuries...,” she cuts off. She gulps and continues, “I thought it would make them open an investigation but without even asking me they said it was a suicide! She was missing a foot! She was naked and beaten and they said it was a FUCKING SUICIDE!“ She throws the bottle against the wall where it shatters into pieces that fly in all directions. You and Imre both stand up, Anna sticks her hand into the space between her couch cushion and the couch proper. She brings out a frame. You can only see it upside down. Its a girl around your age with blond, teased hair falling down her shoulders. She smiles widely at the camera, her hands on her hips and her leg jutting out. Anna holds it to her chest and sobs painfully. “Did your parents ask for Orla's death to be ruled an accident?” Imre asks. You shake your head. “I don't know, the newspaper were already running with that theory a few hours after they found her.” Anna looks up from under her wet eyelashes, sniffs escaping her nose, her mouth glistening. Her face holding cold grief, “are you happy now? You fucking bloodsuckers? You're so messed up like the rest of them. I know what they say about you,” she spits. Chuckling she asks, “tell me, how does it feel to kill someone?” Imre takes a step forward. “That's enough,” he commands. He sticks his hand in his pocket, taking out a leather wallet. He picks out a twenty and throws it on the table. You see a cruel smile on his face, “you can buy yourself another bottle.” Anna glares at him. “GET OUT!“ she screams, spit flying from her mouth. <<if $fakedatingImre >>\ You feel something touch your hand and you look down to see another hand curling it's fingers around yours. You allow Imre to guide you out of the house. “We're sorry to have bothered you Mrs. Franklin,” Imre says as he opens the door. <<elseif not $fakedating>> You feel a weight on your shoulder and look down to see a veiny hand grip you. You follow behind Imre as you seek to leave this place. “We're sorry to have bothered you Mrs. Franklin,” Imre says as he opens the door. <</if>> [[NEXT->Imre-Candace10]] </h3>

<h3><<if $threatening >>\ The moment you both slam the doors shut Imre turns to you. You don't know what you expected but you see a bright expression on his face. A look you've never seen on him, especially directed towards you. “You were incredible,” he says. You roll your lips, “I don't know how I did it. Maybe... maybe I was too cruel?” Imre shakes his head, “no, you were perfect.” You don't know what to say to that. If he means it as a compliment should it be taken as such even though you did something cruel to someone else? “I'm sorry for what she asked you,” Imre says. Looking at him he doesn't seem it. “Do you think I killed her?” Imre's lips quirk, he asks slowly, “what would you think if I did?” <hr>\ * [[“It wouldn't change anything.”]] * [[“I'd think you're perturbed.”]] * [[“Does it matter?”]] <<elseif not $threatening>>\ The moment you both slam the doors shut Imre turns to you. You don't know what you expected but you see an expression on his face that can be characterized as energetic. You've seen him like this when he's speaking in school's assemblies. “What did you think?” he asks. You give him a confused look, “about... your blackmail?” He smiles, “I was rather good, wasn't I?” You can practically feel the excitement roll off of him. You felt he had a dark side but you didn't think it would be so tantalizing to him to hurt a grieving mother. “I'm sorry for what she asked you,” Imre says. Looking at him he doesn't seem it. “Do you think I killed her?” Imre's lips quirk, he asks slowly, “would it be so awful if I did?” <hr>\ * [[“To normal people, yes.”]] * [[“You think it would be great, don't you?”]] * [[“Oh no, it's so great to be accused of murder.”]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $drunk>>\ As slow as Imre tries to drive, the mere movement of the car makes your head spin. Anytime he presses down on the brake and the seatbelt digs into your stomach you feel like the vodka is going to shoot out of your mouth. You hold on until he shifts the car into park before rushing out of the car and running to a trashcan where you lean over and expel the little you consumed today. It feels worse coming out than going in. Your throat burns and your eyes itch. Your knees grow weak and you have to hold onto the trashcan to prevent falling over. Just when you think you're done more bile splashes out. In between spurts you curse and swear that you'll never drink again. Imre gently rubs your back, “it's ok, just let it all out.” Great, the most popular boy in school is watching you barf into garbage. As if your social status needed more battering. “Ugf,” you groan and straighten up. You let Imre guide you back to his car. He rolls down the window and you lean on it, breathing in the cool night air. He eventually comes back with a steaming cup of coffee and uncaps a small white bottle. “Hold out your hand,” he instructs you. You do so and a small white pill lands in your palm, you look at him. “For the nausea and headache,” he simply says. You swallow it and follow it with hot coffee that burns your tongue but fortunately takes away the taste of sick from your mouth. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. You want your bed. “Do you know how to say hangover in Spanish?” he asks. You inhale and exhale through your mouth. “No.” “Some places say //resaca// but in Colombia they say //guayabo//,” he informs you, his voice softer than is his normal pitch. “Guavayo?” you ask, opening your eyes. “No,” he taps his lips and replies slowly, “gua-ya-bo.” “Guayabo,” you say again. He smiles, “good. Now the other one.” “Resaca,” you answer. “Try to roll you R, it's all in the R,” he advises. You move your tongue around in your mouth before trying, “rrrrresaca.” He moves his hand from palm down to side, and back again, “you almost got it.” He teaches you a few others words like 'Beber, dormir, carro, cabeza.' You're head hurts less by the time you meet up with Lorcan. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] <<elseif not $drunk>>\ After you leave Anna's house, Imre drives to Main Street and leaves the car without another word to you. You wait inside, $habit to pass the time. You become so absentminded that a knock on your window startles you. You roll it down and Imre hands you an ice cream cone. He sits back in the driver's seat and licks his cone contently. He notices you haven't tried yours and asks, “do you not like vanilla? I picked it because it seemed to be the safest one since I don't know what you like.” You take a lick. It tastes like sugar. “It's ok, actually my favourite is...<<cycle '$icecream' autoselect>><<option 'vanilla.'>><<option 'mint chocolate chip.'>><<option 'chocolate.'>><<option 'rocky road.'>><<option 'bubblegum.'>><<option 'strawberry.'>><</cycle>> “Ok,” he says licks scoop. It's silent in the car for the next few minutes as you both eat. “Have you ever broken a bone?” Imre asks suddenly. You lick your lips, “umm I don't think so.” He bites into his cone, “when I was twelve I broke my hand playing American football. After that I grew to loathe it.” You narrow your eyes, that's such an odd thing to ask you. “Did you have pets growing up?” “No?” you answer slowly. Imre wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Is that a question?” “No my question is, why are you asking me these things?” He chews quietly and says, “I want to know about your life.” Suspicion begins to fill your head, “since when?” He shrugs, “since forever.” You watch him as he finishes his cone, his likes look normal, none of that strange glint he gets that seems like a warning sign for something untoward. Still... <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Ask away.”]] * [[♡ “No, you're going to answer my questions.”]] * [[⟡ “Quid pro quo.”]] * [[You're not in the mood.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>A babysitter ad posted to streetlight flies off and jumps down the street. The winds are too cold to be standing out here by the arcade but that's what the three of you are doing. <<if $drunk>>It took Lorcan about one second to look at you to comment on your state of inebriation. “Good job Crowny,” he clapped, “getting shitfaced at grieving mom's house.”<<elseif not $drunk>>You noticed the blood on Lorcan's knuckles which he quickly stuffed into his jacket, giving a look as if daring to say anything<</if>> <<if $drunk>>\ “While $name was out, Candace's mother told me that the police weren't interested in finding her daughter at all and that they ruled it a suicide as quickly as they could,” Imre reports. You bite your cheek, he did the work while you just laid there like an idiot getting drunk. Some sidekick you are. “How was Daryl?” Lorcan guffaws, “same smelly asshole as always. He didn't want to tell me anything and we got into a it. We can rule him out as a suspect though, he was bartending at Alice's.” “I don't think it would be wrong go under the assume that Stephanie's death might also be a suicide or anything that says it wasn't foul play,” Imre purposes. <<elseif not $drunk>> “Candace's mother seemed very concerned over her daughter the moment she disappeared. She was ignored by the police and told us they ruled her death a suicide,” Imre reports. You think about what Imre just said and realize it's not exactly true. But it is... isn't it? Your brows furrow. “Daryl the shitless wonder didn't tell me anything, guess he thought I was there to tattle on his creepy dating habits. I don't think he called Stephanie though, he was working,” Lorcan states. “I don't think it would be wrong go under the assume that Stephanie's death might also be a suicide or anything that says it wasn't foul play,” Imre purposes. <</if>> Imre rubs his chin, “at least from what I got from Candace's, not all the parents were careless of their daughters. Some weren't and that means that there is possibly a conspiracy here.” <<if $drunk>>The fact that he got information without your help makes you feel useless.<<elseif not $drunk>>You bristle at the //I//. You glance at Imre but he remains focused on Lorcan.<</if>> “The police are involved, shocker,” Lorcan says sarcastically. “We need to know more,” Imre attests. “This pile of two girls is too small, if this has been going on for as long as we think we need to go back.” Lorcan, still scratching at the table suggests, “maybe old asshole Crown has something we can use.” Imre looks to Lorcan, intrigued. You look to Lorcan and he says, “your dad, duh.” You purse your lips, “hmmm. He might have some stuff in the attic. He was always boasting about our family legacy, if we're looking at the town's history that would be a good place to start.” Imre starts putting the notebooks and missing posters in his satchel, “let's not waste time then.”<<audio "investigation" stop>> [[NEXT->Page 278B]] </h3>

<h3>Your fingers dig into his leather jacket and you hear him grunt. He uses his foot to stop the bike and your nose hits off his spine. <<set $hips to true>> As you rub it he twists his head to look at you. He looks annoyed, a redness spreads throughout his neck, licking the lobes of his ear. “What are you doing?” he huffs. Your other hand clenches the boy's hip awkwardly and you don't know if moving your hand away would make things more uncomfortable. So you leave it. “If I fall and break my teeth that'll just make sure you have to spend hours with me at the hospital,” you reply. Lorcan inhales and exhales for a moment and then turns around begins pedalling again. “Hold on tight then, dumbass.” You slide your hands from his hips and practically hug his stomach, you feel his muscles contracting under your skin. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph2]] </h3>

<h3>Your fingers clench around the metal and it leaves you at an awkward angle so when Lorcan uses his foot to brake your forehead hits off his spine. As you rub it he twists his head to look at the thing he swerved. You turn to that direction too and see what likes like an animal on its side. You see its body rise and fall. Lorcan's eyes open wide and his mouth gapes slightly. “Come,” he says to you and swings his leg over the tube. You grab onto the steering handles and slide off the seat. Letting the bike topple sideways. You walk over to him and look at the mangled raccoon on the pavement. Blood drips from its eyes, a pool of puss and blood slowly spread out amongst the cracks. It's stomach is flattened by tire tracks. A raccoon is rare here. “I should kill it right?” Lorcan asks you. You nod, “it's in a lot of pain.” Lorcan nods, his face betraying how unsure and frightened he is. “Yeah, yeah,” he whispers and goes to the treeline to find a rock. He comes back with a fairly heavy one and hoists it over his head. His breathing comes quickly and his lips shake. Hyperventilating you watch his unsteady hold over the animal's head. <hr>\ * [[You volunteer to do it.]] * [[You let him do it.]] </h3>

<h3>You watch as he seems to shake even more. He looks to you, his eyes scared and glistening. You exhale and say, “I can do it if you want.” Lorcan's shoulders slump and he lowers down the rock, passing it you. You fall to one knee and hold the rock over your head. You look into the raccoon's eyes and bring the rock down. You feel it break through the raccoon's skull, a hard crunch. You throw the rock away and rub your hands on your pants. Standing up you see Lorcan looking down at the animal. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and walks back to the bike. When you sit back on the seat, Lorcan pointedly has head head turned away from you. “Thanks,” he says softly. He begins pedalling again. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph2]] </h3>

<h3>You watch as he seems to shake even more. He looks to you, his eyes scared and glistening. He shakes his head and drops the rock. Away from the raccoon. “I can't I-I j-just I can't“ he walks away and you follow him. When you sit back on the seat, Lorcan pointedly has head head turned away from you. “You ever tell anyone that, I'll kill you,” he swears with a cold voice. He begins pedalling again. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph2]] </h3>

<h3>You and Lorcan exchange glances, his face looks panicked and in a split second you decide to snatch the notepad from his pocket and take out the small pencil in it's wires. You flip open the notebook and say, “we got partnered on a school report. Basically on creepy shit that happens in town.” Lorcan swiftly recovers and adds, “yeah we just picked some random news story and we needed to talk to people that knew Stephanie.” Daryl makes a noise in his throat that sounds like gargling and you think he's about to spit again. Instead he says, “they just fucking let you talk about serious shit like that for a report?” You nod, “yeah, we can't really talk about the other crazy stuff that happens in town. Regular old murder it is.” Daryl shakes his head, “she died, what? Like a little over a month ago and she's already being used for boring school presentations? She's rolling in her grave.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Daryl looks at you, “you either have balls of steel to look up this shit girl or you have no heart.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Daryl looks at you, “since boys don't get killed this is all fun to you, isn't it, boy?”<</if>> Daryl gets up and goes to a mini-fridge he has by the bed. He grunts as he crouches. Lorcan whispers to you, “good save.” You shrug, a self-satisfied smile on your face, “yeah I'm pretty good at this.” Lorcan rolls his eyes and remarks, “your head is gonna be too big for your neck to carry Crowny.” Your smile widens, “but you didn't deny ittttt.” Lorcan rolls his eyes again and looks away. Daryl takes out cans of cold beer from the fridge. He comes back and sits down on the chair. He hands a beer to Lorcan and then holds one out to you. Lorcan sits down on the couch, opening his beer and taking a swig. You... <<cycle '$daryl' autoselect>><<option 'take it, you need a drink.'>><<option 'take it, just to hold it.'>><</cycle>> The two men look at you and Lorcan says, “are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” Daryl chuckles and takes a big gulp of his beer. You decide to sit... <<cycle '$trailer' autoselect>><<option 'on the couch.'>><<option 'on a plastic chair by Daryl, swiping the garbage on it to the floor.'>><<option 'crossed-legged on the floor.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph6]] </h3>

<h3>You let the bike fall and walk over to Lorcan, who's pounding on the metallic door. You look to your right to see a group of children gathered a few feet away from you. The little boy in front picks his nose as he watches you, easy lazily blinking. “They're not lookin' for the reason you think,” Lorcan's voice says by your elbow. You look away from the kids to him and he gives you a blank look, at least tries to before he looks away and down at his dirty boots. The door opens and a tall and fat man stands on the suspended floor, making him look even taller than he is. His irritated face lands on Lorcan and he says, “what the fuck do you want?” His acrid breath makes your throat lurch. Lorcan curls his lip. A huge plastic gold medallion hangs down his chest from a thick chain necklace. Curly hairs burst out from his white wife-beater that has yellowish stains by his armpits. His long-johns squeeze tighly against his legs and his toenails curl and touch the floor. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He notices you staring and says, “what the fuck are you looking at cutie?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He notices you staring and says, “what the fuck are you looking at boy?”“<</if>> Lorcan interrupts, “Daryl we have to talk.” Daryl's eyes drag from you to Lorcan and he spits on the ground near the boy's feet. “I don't have to talk to some damn kids, go ask for weed somewhere else.” He moves to close the door and Lorcan puts his foot against it, staring up at the man with a hot glower he says bitingly, “it's about Stephanie.” The door swings open and with a wide grin, Daryl steps aside and gestures for you two to come in, “my casa is your casa, Lorcan and friend.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph5]] </h3>

<h3>You and Lorcan exchange glances, his face looks panicked and in a split second you decide to smile sweetly at him. His eyebrows raise at the way you're looking at him and you lightly touch his fingertips with your own. His hand jerks back, his eyes frantically looking from the left to the right of your $eyecolor eyes. <<set $fakedatinglorcan to true>> Your fingertips buzz, extended in the air and he looks down at them, then back at your eyes. His eyes look terrifed. Daryl clears his throat and you drag your eyes away from those gray eyes. With that sweet smile still plastered on your face you say, “I'm into morbid shit and Lorcan is the best boyfriend, he spoils me.” Lorcan bites his lip and sits down on the couch. He stiffly pats the seat next to him and says, “sit. down. B-babe.” You comply and scoot closer to him, he flinches once again when your thighs touch but it's less noticeable than last time. Daryl looks suspiciously between you two but just when you think he's going to call out your bullshit he shrugs. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“The things we do for crazy bitches,” he says to Lorcan.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Back when I was a kid a boy would get belt whipped if he even hugged another boy. Lord how we have fallen,” he laments.<</if>> Daryl gets up and goes to a mini-fridge he has by the bed. He grunts as he crouches. Lorcan whispers furiously to you, “have you lost your goddamn mind?!“ You shush him and answer in between your faux smile, “just throw you arm over me Lorcan.” You two lowly argue as Daryl takes out cans of cold beer from the fridge. “If you kiss me I'll kill myself in front of your eye—“ Lorcan begins to retort before his eyes widen and he throws his arm over your shoulder. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Just then Daryl comes back and sits down on the chair. He sees Lorcan's loose arm on you. He smirks and hands Lorcan a beer, saying, “fucking casanova.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Just then Daryl comes back and sits down on the chair. He sees Lorcan's loose arm on you. He grimaces and hands Lorcan a beer, saying, “keep the gay shit to a minimal.”<</if>> “Shut up,” Lorcan mumbles as he presses the tap down, opening the beer. He looks at you from the corners of his eyes and looks away, his cheeks turning pink. Daryl holds out a beer to you and you... <<cycle '$daryl' autoselect>><<option 'take it, you need a drink.'>><<option 'take it, just to hold it.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph6]] </h3>

<h3>You follow Lorcan into the trailer. The first thing you notice is the overwhelming smell of marijuana and underneath that the smell of dirty dishes and left out food. You breathe through your mouth as you and Lorcan stop in front of a sunken-in reddish couch. The windows are covered with black curtains, the small dining room to the right is overflowing with takeout boxes and what you presume to be the bed to your left is crowded with clothes. Beer bottles line the floor, crunching under your shoes. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ Daryl looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your thighs. When he catches you noticing he smiles disgustingly. “Well aren't you a sight for sore-eyes? How old are you darling?” Your nose wrinkles in disgust. Lorcan looks from you to Daryl and moves closer to you, “shut the fuck up asshole.” Daryl drags his eyes away from your hips and smiles at Lorcan, “is she your girlfriend boy? Don't want anyone touching what's yours I see.” Lorcan's hands shake and he spits, “I said shut the fuck up.” Daryl looks amused at Lorcan's attitude and says to you, “you shouldn't waste time with boys darling. Only men know how to take care of a little lady like you.” You feel a bright hot fury bloom in your chest, you imagine wiping that leer off his face. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Daryl looks you up and down, his face showing an expression of boredom. When he catches you noticing he looks up and smirks. “You're pretty unimpressive, aren't you? No wonder you hang out here.” Your jaw tightens. Lorcan notices your annoyance and looks to Daryl, “stop being a fucking dick.” Daryl looks away from you to the blond boy, an cruel smile on his lips, “is he your faggoty boyfriend boy? I knew that fine piece of ass couldn't of been your girl.” Lorcan's eyes widen and his breath comes out quickly and shallow, “I'll break your fucking ribs.” Daryl chuckles at Lorcan's threatening pose and says to you, “looks like your boyfriend is still pussy-whipped.” He raises his arms in surrender and says, “alright calm down, I didn't mean no disrespect to your late girl.” You feel Lorcan practically vibrating next to you and you're not far behind. <</if>> Daryl shoves empty cigarette packs off a plastic chair and grunts as he sits down. Hands on his knees, he looks at you two and asks, “why are two kids here asking me questions about Stephanie? Who are you?” The last question is directed at you. <hr>\ * [[You tell him you're dating Lorcan.]] * [[You tell him you're on a school assigment.]] </h3>

<h3>You look at the blond-haired boy up and down before saying, “let's try not to kill each other while we're there.” Lorcan smiles slowly, “no promises Crowny.” <<set $lorcanquest to true>> Imre looks at you both and then shakes his head as if saying, 'that's none of my business.' All three of you stand up and leave the lodge, the later summer air makes you shiver. The wind used to never come down from above the tree tops, lately you find yourself wearing thicker jackets. You walk to Lorcan's bike and Imre unlocks the driver's seat of his car. Before getting in he looks at Lorcan who stops a few feet from you, his hands stuck in his pockets. Imre opens his satchel and rummages inside before taking out a small notepad and throwing it to you. Catching it, you ask, “for anything important she might say.” Imre nods, “exactly. Good luck.” You two watch as he gets up, turns on the car and backs up. As he leaves the makeshift parking lot Lorcan picks up his bike and throws his leg over so that the bike is between his legs. He jerks his head to the seat. You sit down and your instinct is to grab onto him but you pause, you see his shoulders tense and you opt to hold onto the seat. Without a word he pedals out of the parking lot. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph1]] </h3>

<h3><<if $weed >>\ His words trail off. Or better yet, they fade away. They become indecipherable noise in what feels like a world that's gone mute. You feel yourself slump down into the couch, as if your body were made of jelly. Your eyes catch snippets of sound and your ears see a blank haze penetrating the room for god-knows-where. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. Your nose smells nothing and everything. The medications that they gave you throughout your life didn't feel like this. //“... they tapped my phone and last Wednesday I saw a black car with tinted windows parked at Alice's... gun...”//, Daryl's voice occasionally breaks through from far away. You don't know when or how put you find yourself looking at the trailer ceiling. Your back is arched by the lumpness of Daryl's bed. You're laying on probably months of dirty clothes but you could care less. You feel Lorcan's hair rub against yours, you make what you feel is a momentous effort to flop your head to the right. From the little you can of the side of his face, Lorcan is looking up, the corner of his mouth raised. You two are head to head, either moment you two make the other can feel. You didn't realize you were laughing until you laugh so hard you end up coughing. Lorcan laughs even harder at your reaction. You see his mouth moving and you ask, “what?” He repeats it. “What?” Lorcan hits your arm without much strength and says loudly, “a giant fucking jellyfish killing everyone... fucking poops.” You burst out laughing in a way you've never done before. “Fucking poops.” Lorcan tries to move his head to look at you. You see a big grin on his face, his eyes bloodshot. He stares at you, smiling for a minute and you don't know what your face looks like but you feel your cheeks ache. “You're...like...the smartes...fucking...person...like...like...ever,” he acquieces. You snort and flop your head to the left and then back to the right, swallowing your saliva before asking, “you really really think so?” Lorcan nods up and down and up and down @@.blur;and up and down and up and down@@ He might've said something else but you're too far gone to hear it. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph11]] <<elseif not $weed>>\ “I was fucking the girl! That's all I was doing! It's not like we have one of those close relationships or something!“ You exhale and look at Lorcan who seems to be as annoyed as you are. Maybe it's because of the fact that he's a sleaze ball or maybe it's because everyone connected to this case seems to be acting as if they're hiding something but whatever reason you don't believe him. Ok. It's time for you to be a little less cordial. You search within yourself for what you can say. Or what Lorcan can say. Something that will really make him want to talk. There's two things, really. You could mention his proclivity for high school girls. You doubt someone like Daryl would wait until a girl is eighteen to pursue her. You could ask Lorcan to use what he knows of Daryl and his drug usage to the case's advantage. You decide to... <hr>\ * [[Blackmail him yourself.->Lorcan-Steph9]] * [[Have Lorcan blackmail him.->Lorcan-Steph9*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You take it from him and bring it to your mouth. Lorcan looks momentarily surprised. He says, “it's like smoking a regular cigarette, just inhale and keep it in your mouth for a few secs.” You suck in and the taste feels worse than the smell. Still, you inhale deeply and let it rest in your throat before taking the joint away from your mouth and blowing out the smoke. <<set $weed to true>> You cough into the crook of your elbow and hand it to Lorcan. He takes a long and deep drag. He blows out a stream of smoke and hands the joint back to Daryl. Lorcan leans back into the couch and crosses his arms behind his head. Daryl takes a few puffs and begins saying, “did ya'll hear about that Waco shit? Let me tell you the American government shot first...” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph8]] </h3>

<h3>You shake your head. “I wanna keep a clear head,” you explain. Daryl shrugs, “suit yourself.”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He holds it out to Lorcan who takes a small puff and hands it back. Daryl takes a series of long puffs and coughs so hard he looks for something around him before grabbing a dirty glass and spitting into it. You make a face. Lorcan snorts. “Ok, Daryl,” you snap your fingers at him, “I need you to tell us more.” In between the spits Daryl replies, “there's nothin' more to tell kid. She's dead, boom. done. Very sad to lose a piece of ass so good but life goes on.” You scowl and reiterate a bit strongly, “Daryl you have to know more. Tell us.” Darly misses and spits a big glob onto the floor. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph8]] </h3>

<h3>You quirk your eyebrows at Lorcan. He raises his eyebrow at you, confused. You jerk your head to Daryl and Lorcan looks even more lost, he mouths 'what?' You jerk your head once again to Daryl. Lorcan's eyes narrow and his mouth goes ajar. Rolling your eyes, you mouth 'get him to talk.' Lorcan looks from you to Daryl and back. Still as perplexed as ever, he asks, “tell him he's a shark?” You resist the urge to put your head in your hands and quickly whisper in his ear, “blackmail. Him.” You lean back and he gets the 'oh' face and nods. Turning to Daryl, who's looking at the scene as if he's watching a horse walking on two legs. “Daryl if you don't fucking talk I'll tell the cops you sold me and a bunch of other kids weed,” Lorcan threatens. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Daryl looks complete taken aback by this, his eyes widen. “You'd snitch on one of your own? For who? For her?” He points to you accusingly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Daryl looks complete taken aback by this, his eyes widen. “You'd snitch on one of your own? For who? For him?” He points to you accusingly.<</if>> With an attitude that shows essential no-fucks-given attitude, Lorcan smirks. “I don't really give a shit,” he says. Daryl looks hopelessly at you, seeking perhaps a reprieve but you just look blankly at him. He sighs. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Daryl looks down at your legs and his panic-stricken face contorts to a smarmy smile, “well now that you saw how much of a rat bastard your boyfriend is, how about you find someone who'll be loyal. I know how to treat cute little girls.” Lorcan's eyes snap to Daryl and he warns, “Daryl leave her alone.” Daryl spits near Lorcan's shoes, “you're just a boy, what do you know about handling a cute little bitch like that?” Daryl's sitting so close to the couch that Lorcan easily launches himself at him. You stand up as the two men crash to the floor. Beer cans crunch under their bodies as they both wrestle to be on top. They have their hands gripped around each other's biceps, wrestling to push the other down. Daryl knees Lorcan in the stomach and he gasps. The fat man rolls on top of him and punches him hard in the face. You stand there, unsure how to help. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Daryl's panic-stricken face hasn't stopped looking at you but once he sees that your menacing aura is gone his face contorts into a cruel smile, “you think I'm a bad person? You and you're fucking junior deputy are the ones here getting a hard-on about a dead little bitch. Do you pull on your pecker while you think about Steph? Fuck, you might've killed her. You look the type.” Lorcan's eyes snap to Daryl and he warns, “Daryl leave him alone.” Daryl spits near Lorcan's shoes, “awww protecting your little faggy boyfriend? Nevermind him strokin' it you suck him off don't you?” Daryl's sitting so close to the couch that Lorcan easily lauches himself at him. You stand up as the two men crash to the floor. Beer cans crunch under their bodies as they both wrestle to be on top. They have their hands gripped around each other's biceps, wrestling to push the other down. Daryl knees Lorcan in the stomach and he gasps. The fat man rolls on top of him and punches him hard in the face. You stand there, unsure how to help. <</if>> [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph11]] </h3>

<h3>Screaming you throw your entire body at Daryl and you two crash to the side, your head slamming against the beer can making your head ring. Your arms envelop his throat and he jerks his head back to try and smash into your face, you try your best to skeeve. Lorcan scrambles up and wipes his nose. He kicks Daryl in the face and holds out his hand to you. You take it and he kicks the door open pulling you along with him. The children you saw before are still in group, in front of the trailer. Lorcan picks up his bike and waits for you to behind him. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You stupid little cunt!“ Daryl screams from inside and stumbles his way out the door. Blood runs down his chin.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You stupid little fuck! Daryl screams from inside and stumbles his way out the door. Blood runs down his chin.<</if>> Lorcan peddles frantically as Daryl's fingers skim your jacket. The kids disperse as Daryl runs after the bike. You pass by the other residents who look bored at the spectacle.<<if $hips >> You hug his stomach tightly.<<elseif not $hips>>You grip the tube for dear life<</if>> Dary follows nearly to the exit when he heaves and bends over, his hairy hands on his knees. Lorcan speeds out the trailer park to the road and maintains that speed until you see the familiar stoplights of Main Street. Lorcan stops the bike near a bench and you slide off and sit down. Lorcan remains on the bike, breathing heavily. You find that you're also breathing hard. You two look at each other, breathless. Suddenly, Lorcan laughs. A genuine laugh. Free of the usual malice he has for you. Stunned, you continue breathing as you watch him laugh. You lick your lips, unsure of how to proceed. His laughing slightly dies down and he says, “fuck me that was insane. You fucking...you did it.” You raise your eyebrows, “did what?” Lorcan shrugs, “he was going to beat the shit out of me and you...,” he jerks his hand back to his shoulder, “you did it.” You let out a breath from your lips that sounds like a cross between a snort and laugh, “are you... trying to say 'thank you'?” Lorcan shakes his head. “In your dreams.” <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Ok, either way I'm glad I did.”]] * [[♡ “You're right only in dreams could you be as badass.”]] * [[⟡ “Fine, let's not ruin this moment of truce.”]] * [[You shake your head.]] </h3>

<h3>You've heard there's two responses to shocking situations. Fight or flight. But they forget freeze. You watch unmoving as the two men struggle against each other. Daryl punches Lorcan again, you hear a loud crack and Lorcan grunts, holding his hands to his face. When Daryl aims to hit him again yelling, “you little bastard! Come to my home and fucking come at me!“ Lorcan knees him between the legs and Daryl yelps, his arm falling and quickly cradling his crotch. Lorcan pushes Daryl off and scrambles up. Jerking his head to you to follow him out. You rush to the bike, seeing the group of little kids watching, in front of the trailer.<<if $hips >>You hug Lorcan's stomach, you feel his muscles flinch.<<elseif not $hips>>You grasp the tube, your knuckles white.<</if>> Daryl is at the door, on his knees and leaning against the frame. Still holding his grotch with a red face, tears streaking down. “I'll fucking kill you Lorcan Stark!“ Lorcan quickly begins peddling away. The rest of the residents watch the bike fly by without much interest. As if Daryl were actually running after you, Lorcan peddles swiftly. You two pass the exit but he still doesn't slow down. You see that he's going to Main Street and you spend the ride there trying to calm your breathing. Lorcan abruptly stops near the stoplights and moves off the bike. He sits on a bench and brings his fingers to his nose that now looks red and bigger than it should be. He gasps as his fingers pokes the bridge and noticing you looking he glares and says behind his fingers, “you couldn't fucking do anything?” <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I'm sorry.”]] * [[♡ “Those punches fixed your face.”]] * [[⟡ “I froze.”]] * [[You shrug and look away.]] </h3>

<h3>He blinks at you, his face unreadable. Or rather he looks emotionless. The seconds pass and his eyes remain glued to your face, it becomes so odd that you momentarily look away at some grass growing from the cracks in the sidewalk. You count to ten and when you look up again his eyes haven't moved from you. You $habit. Alternating between looking down at your fingernails and back at him to see him remaining as he is. Unable to take it any longer you blurt out, “what?” He doesn't answer for a moment. He just blinks. “Why did you say that?” “Say what? That I'm glad?” He nods once, slow and stiff. You feel like the saliva is leaving your mouth. That's never happened before. Why? “I don't want you to die,” you admit. He blinks again. “Why? I wanted you to.” You give him a small smile, “aren't you the one always saying poor people in this world don't get what they want?” He doesn't say anything. He finally tears his eyes away from you and looks around, his eyes landing on a payphone. You feel like air has returned to your near vicinity when his eyes leave you. “I'll call pretty boy,” he says. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>“Specifically wet dreams,” you add with a smirk. Lorcan gives you a pissed off look and searches in his pocket. He takes out his cigarettes and quickly lights one. He inhales deeply and blows out from his nose, “you got a guy I had already weakened anyway.” You snort, “really? You and those pale spaghetti arms could take down a guy who actually looks like he eats cows?” Lorcan blows smoke in your direction and you wave it off, “hey, these pale spaghetti arms have been scrapping since you were shitting in silk diapers.” Your smirk becomes wider, a disbelieving look clear on your face, “and yet I was the one who saved your ass. Beating up third graders doesn't count as 'scrapping' dear.” “Yeah! Well—“ he stops and makes a frustrated noise as he looks up, his face confused and pondering. “Well— shit!“ You throw your head back and laugh. Lorcan stubs out his cigarette and throws it at you. It hits your mouth and you do a raspberry. “What the fuck?!“ Lorcan smiles, reigning supreme once again in his eyes. “Be fucking happy it wasn't lit because I'd do it and you know it.” Sarcastically you clasp your hands together and say with a fake British accent, “oh thank you sir! I am so forever grateful. Let me pull down your pants and blow a compliment up your ass.” “Blegh,” Lorcan says and you grin, truimphant once again. He spots a payphone and without a word goes to it. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan's eyesbrows lower, “truce? Did that asshole hit my head too hard that I agreed to some insane shit I'd never do unless I was stupid, dumb or drunk?” You gesture to you both, “hey it's late, we just escaped from a perverted lunatic, we're not fighting or at least not as mean-spirited as usual. Can we just not start it until at least the tomorrow?” Lorcan picks at his fingers and looks to be actually considering. After a minute he looks at you and says with a big smile, “yeah sure.” You feel yourself smiling, “really?” His smile grows bigger, “no!“ His face falls and he chews on his nail. But he doesn't make any move to say anything that could possibly start a fight, so your smile remains on your face. “You could sit down,” you advise and motion to the bench. Lorcan snorts, “do you want me to start bullying you? Because this is why I'll start bullying you.” You rescind your offer and merely settle for enjoying the coming of the night and the breeze in the leaves of the trees. After a tranquil while where neither of you talk, Lorcan looks for a payphone, finds one and says he'll call that 'pretty boy.' [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>There's not much point in engaging with him on this matter. Lorcan is stubborn. The fact that he tried to say a thank you is effort enough and you frankly don't give a shit to force him into properly giving you one. You close your eyes and lay your head back against the back of the bench. You listen to the noises of the town and hope Lorcan doesn't try to talk at all. You don't know how long you last like that but Lorcan pushes you out of your rest when he says, “I'll call pretty boy.” Between half-opened eyes you see his thin frame walking awya to a nearby payphone. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>He aggressively wipes his dripping nose. As he does he looks up at you, “did you knock your head somewhere? Become possessed?” “What?” He lets out a breath of air and wipes his nose up. “Doesn't matter, I've gotten worse.” “Is it broken, you think?” He lighly pokes his nose and winces, “hopefully fucking not. I don't wanna see how much I'd fuck it up if I had to set it.” “Wow, sucks being poor,” you say with a serious face. Lorcan looks at you for a second. “Are you trying to be ass?” he asks uncertainly. You raise up your hands up in surrender, “I'm not hitting you when you're down alright?” He sniffs and takes a sharp intake of breath. It looks like it felt for you when you were tripped on the first day. “If you wanna pay for my hospital bills it would be the least you can do,” he responds. You smirk, “ha ha ha that was almost funny.” Lorcan gets up and looks around him, his eyes landing on a payphone, “I'll call the pretty boy.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan rubs his nostrils, stands up and wipes his blood on your cheek. Your mouth falls agape as he smiles at you and sits back down. “I'm going to kill you.” Lorcan leans back into the bench and rests his hands on his thighs. “Maybe if you weren't such a fucking dick I wouldn't have to defend myself Crowny.” You roughly wipe your cheek with your palm, “that's like bringing a gun to a fistfight! Using biological warfare what are you Japanese?” He scrunches up his face, “what the fuck are you talking about?” You make a noise in your throat that sounds like your trying to scratch an itch in it, “blood is a biohazard.” “Hold on, are you trying to call me toxic?” You bat your eyelashes at him, “wow did the stupid stick not hit you today?” Lorcan shoots up and rubs his nose again, showing you his coated fingers. He wiggles them at you and you flinch away. He laughs and wipes his fingers on his jeans. “At least you're useful enough to distract from this,” he motions to his face. “Ew, don't credit favours to me,” you reply. Lorcan rolls his eyes. Your lips twitch as he looks away. He looks around him, his eyes landing on a payphone, “I'll call the pretty boy.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan makes an sound that seems to convey either disbelief or ridicule. He wipes his nose back and forth across his sleeve. You feel a stab of sympathy. He did get hurt trying to defend you. A weird thing you can't believe just happened. “You're really fucking useless, most people if they can't fight they run and you're too fucking— no self-preservation,” Lorcan complains. That's a big word for him. You assent, “ok yeah in a fight sure. But I'll do something... just wait.” You walk down Main Street, trying to find somewhere that offers free napkins. You go into the convenience store and grab a handful. When you bring them out to him he raises an eyebrow. “Just take them,” you insist. He does, reluctantly. Not knowing whether to sit down you stand there and watch as he cleans up his nose. He throws the napkins on the ground as he stains them. He quickly glances at you and looks away, getting up. He looks around until he sees a payphone, “I'll call pretty boy.” [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>You hear him do a series of groans, spits and rustling. You guess you could've done something but you didn't know what. And honestly? It wasn't your fault he decided to attack Daryl. It was his stupid choice. And you're no one's fighter, much less his. He'll live, it's not like you haven't seen him fight kids at school before. People are so dramatic with pain. They should try being electrocuted. Becuase of all this you can't muster the falsehood of care. “Ah screw this. I'm going to call pretty boy,” Lorcan announces and you turn to see him walk away to a nearby payphone. [[NEXT->Lorcan-Steph12]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know what you're doing. It's quite erratic of you. Almost psychotic. You watch dumbfounded as your hand drags itself, almost unwilling across your thigh, fingernails scratching the material of your pants. You feel that Imre is watching, even though his eyes are on the road. His fingers remain still, relaxed. Perhaps he's not looking to give you the chance to retreat without embarrassment. That would be kind, and a bit too moral for him. When your hand touches his skin you get a strong urge to snatch it back. So strong you begin pulling away but your thumb hooks around his pinkie and he curls it to trap it. Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you want to die. Such an odd moment to think of suicide but right now you want to cease to exist. Imre closes the rest of his fingers around yours and squeezes. A bit harder than is comfortable. His nails stinging as they dig into your skin. But the pain is almost... nice. He uncurls and curls his fingers moves his and yours hands from left to right. You're torn between telling him to let you go and asking him to dig his fingernails deeper so deep that his nails will draw blood, your blood on his fingernails, under his nails, coating his fingers is an image that threatens to make you pant. You quickly pull your hand back into your lap. Imre chuckles and lays his own on his lap, “thank you.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace2]] </h3>

<h3>“You could just slap it on the dashboard,” you suggest. Imre smiles and shakes his head, as if that is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. “I would look rather foolish,” he responds. You sigh, “do you always have to look cool?” He shrugs and lightly moves the radio knob, “I don't consquentially think about my every move but I do think about doing something that would make others think lesser of me.” //Liar.// “That sounds exhausting, constantly thinking about what how others see you,” you say, facing the side window. You hear the radio static as Imre moves it along, trying in vain to find anything he deems good and audible. “What else is there?” “You don't think there's more to life than image?” Imre laughs and that makes you turn around to look at him. He has a kind smile on his face but his eyes make it look condescending. “What, in your opinion is life about?” he asks. <hr>\ * [[“I have no idea.”]] * [[“Friendship.”]] * [[“Nothing at all.”]] * ==“Love.”== </h3>

<h3>“I never really thought about it, I've always been dealing with things that are basically in front of me to worry about what it all means,” you answer. Imre nods. “A commonplace things with those who suffer,” he muses. //Those who suffer.// Is that all you are to everyone? To him? “Maybe I should crack open a bible,” you jest. Imre smiles and turns off the radio, “that's far worse than what you currently believe.” You feel as if you could get into a real debate with him over the meaning of life and you would guess his answer would be cold and superficial as he would likely say something expected of him like family. He might not even try to hide his destain for it. Instead of responding you lay back against the seat and let the thrumming of the engine relax you. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace3]] </h3>

<h3>“Isn't there a saying about choosing your friends instead of your family?” ==Nia.== He nods, “you can't choose your family but you can choose your friends.” ==Nia.== But what can you do when no matter how far you are you can't escape your family? Like a unbreakable life force from that of the Fates in Greek myth that ties you to them forever. In spite of that you did choose a friend. ==Nia.== Or rather she chose you and you accepted. Was the settling or true satisfaction with the person who presented herself to you as a friend? ==Nia.== Without her can you find someone else to fill that whole? You look to Imre. He glances at you before looking back at the road. Instead of responding you lay back against the seat and let the thrumming of the engine relax you. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace3]] </h3>

<h3>“We're just here hurtling against eachother and ourselves for eighty years or so and then one day we simply stop,” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders. Imre quirks the side of his lip, “don't tell me you've read Camus?” You snort, “I don't really follow any philosophy, this is just what I think we're here for.” You turn to him, “am I wrong?” Imre taps his fingers against the steering wheel, “I can't say you're wrong.” “But you think I am.” Imre smiles an unreadable smile. He likes being in one something you aren't as if God himself came down to Earth and whispered all the secrets of the Universe in his ear. Instead of responding you lay back against the seat and let the thrumming of the engine relax you. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace3]] </h3>

<h3>You kick aside some garbage and lay yourself down on the carpeted floor. Some tea spilling on your shirt. Mrs. Franklin grimaces as a way of showing her confusion but says nothing. Imre's lips twitch, he probably thinks you look pathetic and are frightened of him. Who cares. <<if $tea is 'accept.'>>As a way to endear yourself to her a bit more you lift the cup to your mouth and lightly slurp. The room temperature tea falls into your mouth like watery marsh water with hints of Earth. You gulp and smile.<<elseif $tea is 'accept but you are not planning to drink it.'>>You're kind of annoyed to have to carry this cup that looks more like watery marsh water with pieces of dirt floating in it but you won't make any friends with Mrs. Franklin but just holding it or throwing it so you lift it to your lips and pretend to sip. The gulp you give is a bit too dramatic but she doesn't seem to notice or care.<</if>> “Mrs. Franklin—,” Imre starts off. “Call me Anna, Mrs. Franklin makes me feel like I'm eighty and that was my mother-in-laws name who was a big bitch,” she says. Well, her appearance doesn't help mitigate that. She reminds you of your mother. Do all mothers crumble like this when their beloved child dies? Imre assents and replies, “Anna, $name and I are here because we're working on a small memorial section for Candace in the school yearbook.” You're amazed out how quickly and easily the lie slipped off his tongue. You could believe it. Anna snorts derisively, “a //memorial// section? After I want to that damn school to ask them to put on a shrine for my daughter's locker and they laughed in my face? Where is this //memorial// section going to be? At the end of the yearbook in small print?” Imre listens to her tirade with a look of calm on his face and he answers her gently, “you're daughter will be remembered by the town, I promise.” Anna watches him for a moment and then seems to let down, “fine.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace6]] </h3>

<h3>Imre doesn't try to scoot away when you get closer, rather he watches you like a serpent to a mouse, unblinking, his eyes amused and daring. You're almost swallowed by the seat, your butt falling into that spot where the cushion meets the couch proper. <<set $fakedatingImre to true>> You push yourself up, but sink in more while Imre has managed to sit perfectly well on the couch, as if it wasn't a vacuum. He doesn't help, his eyes lighted. You right yourself, gripping the armrest. Imre then moves his leg to touch yours, he presses it closer until your legs close. You feel the bones in his knees pushing against your bones. It hurts a bit, the rubbing of the white milky pieces of himself crushing against yours and he knows that. You think that's enough, he won't go further but you almost yelp when he lays his hand on your thigh and digs his fingers in like a greedy child eating a pie. He wants to crush you into dust and rub himself within it. Throughout all this he has remained looking at Mrs. Franklin, a lazy smile on his face. You swallow, your mouth dry, your tongue like gasping fish.<<if $tea is 'accept.'>>You take a big gulp of your tea, hoping the murky swamp water jolts you awake from this paralyzed state.<<elseif $tea is 'accept but you are not planning to drink it.'>>Even so, you don't dare take a sip of that murky swamp water that Mrs. Franklin calls 'tea.' Even if by doing so maybe it would've made your body function like it should.<</if>> If Mrs. Franklin sees this, you don't know. “Mrs. Franklin—,” Imre starts off. “Call me Anna, Mrs. Franklin makes me feel like I'm eighty and that's my mother-in-law who was a big bitch,” she says. Well, her appearance doesn't help mitigate that. She reminds you of your mother. Do all mothers crumble like this when their beloved child dies? Imre assents and replies, “Anna, $name here is interested in your daughter's disappearance and subsequent death.” You're amazed out how quickly and easily the words slipped off his tongue. He says it as if he were ordering at a drive-through. Anna snorts derisively, “if I ever told people I was into messed up stuff I would've been burned in the town square. Does my tragedy give you entertainment kid? Are you having fun?” Imre listens to her accusation with a look of calm on his face and he answers her gently, “$name and I do care about your daughter, we just want to know about her.” Anna watches him for a moment and then seems to let down, “fine.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace6]] </h3>

<h3>Imre watches as you bring the bottle to your lips, amusement touching his eyes. You're surprised by how much it burns from the moment it first touches your lips. Like a red hot poker shoved down your throat.<<if $vice is 'drinking'>> You've become a regular drinker lately with your flask but it's always been brandy, you're parents never had a taste for vodka.<<elseif $vice is 'smoking'>>Never the one for alcohol and much less straight liquor you're disgusted by the taste. Do people really like this?<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>Never the one for alcohol and much less straight liquor you're disgusted by the taste. Do people really like this?<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>Never the one for alcohol and much less straight liquor you're disgusted by the taste. Do people really like this?<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>Never the one for alcohol and much less straight liquor you're disgusted by the taste. Do people really like this?<</if>> Even so after swallowing it down you take another deep drink. And just for good measure you take a final third one. “Alright, alright, don't hog it,” Anna says, demanding the bottle back. Imre eyes you and asks lowly, “are you going to be alright?” <<set $drunk to true>> You nod and find that your neck feels very heavy but your head feels loose. You blurt something out that you think sounds like you're telling him you're going to be ok. Probably. Surely. Imre doesn't say anything, but as your vision starts going hazy you think you see his smile grow wider. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace8*]] </h3>

<h3>You raise a hand to decline, “it's too early for me.” Anna offers it to Imre who takes the bottle, wipes the top with a hankerchief he has in his shirt pocket and takes a quick and short swing. When Anna get the bottle back you say, “Anna you must know more than that. You were her mother.” Anna starts at that, the grip on the bottle tightening. Imre opens his mouth to try and smooth it over but you press on, “I mean how can you not know why her death was ruled a suicide? Not know who she was hanging out with? Where she went?” Her hand around the bottle begins to shake, “are you saying I'm a bad mother?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“No she's not,” Imre chimes in. Looking at you hard.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“No he's not,” Imre chimes in. Looking at you hard.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Well it looks like she is!“<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Well it looks like he is!“<</if>> [[NEXT->Imre-Candace8]] </h3>

<h3>“You?” “I do prefer classical music, although I have a soft spot for blues and jazz when it depends on the singer,” he replies. You're about to respond when Imre abruptly brakes again as the car ahead does so. He curses under his breath. The car once again drives on. “However, despite my loathing I do have cassettes, Nia has made me some and a few admirers have as well,” he says and opens the center console. Upright and in order lies about ten identical plastic boxes. You randomly pick one and before you can read it Imre brakes once again and the cassette flies from your hand, hitting the dashboard and landing by your feet. “Hijo de puta,” he swears coldly. You bend down and grab it. You read the label, you know that writing. It's Nia's mixtape.<<if $music is 'pop'>> It's pop music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about Material Girl?”<<elseif $music is 'rock'>> It's rock music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about Smells like Teen Spirit?”<<elseif $music is 'jazz'>> It's jazz music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about Love Me or Leave Me?”<<elseif $music is 'blues'>> It's blues music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about The Thrill is Gone?”<<elseif $music is 'punk'>>It's punk music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about Damaged Goods?”<<elseif $music is 'hiphop'>>It's hip-hop music. You hold up the cassette to Imre and ask, “how about Jump Around?”<</if>> Imre looks at the cassette and then at you, and then to your left. “You have some lint, I think clinging to your hair,” he moves his hand reach for it. <hr>\ * [[You let him.|Sammy-Imre3][$lint to true]] * [[You grab it yourself.|Sammy-Imre3]] </h3>

<h3><<if $lint >>\ You freeze, you don't know why but your muscles stiffen while your blood runs hot throughout your body. Imre picks out the lint, a barely-there caress against your cheek and he looks back to the road. You shove the cassette into the player and music fills the tense silence. Although, by Imre's expression, nothing happened. You likely imagined his thumb rubbing your cheek. <<elseif not $lint>>\ “I got it,” you say and roughly pull the lint out, you feel a bit of your hair goes too. Imre chuckles and looks to the cassette, “fine we can listen to subpar music quality.” You shove the cassette into the player and music fills car. <</if>> Eventually the car that pissed off Imre turns down another and you hear him say, “finally.” The rest of the ride to the Palmer's home is much faster. The neighborhood where they live is one of those simple, unremarkable and some might even call dull places. Picture a neighborhood, sidewalks, square grass lawns with small bikes laid haphazaradly, small porches, bay windows, windchimes, wreaths on the front doors. The only reason Imre finds the house among it's many twins is because of the mailbox which has a white hand-painted 'PALMER' on it's side. You take out the newspaper clipping from Imre's briefcase. Joshua and Christina Palmer. Imre parks across the road. A couple of kids play hopscotch on the sidewalk. You expect Imre to turn off the engine and you unbuckle you seatbelt. You try to push open the door but it's doesn't budge. Imre hasn't even taken his seatbelt off. He looks at the Palmer's house and then at you. “This isn't going to be simple, $name. There's a reason I thought going to Candace's mother's house would be easier. The Palmer's just lost their son today,” he says. Perplexed, you ask, “why are you saying this? You're telling me things I know.” “Yes, but I don't think you really understand what we're walking into. This family is grieving in two kids are barging in on them asking questions,” he stresses. You sigh and sit back. You hadn't actually thought about how emotionally draining this could potentially be. “We could go,” Imre suggests. <hr>\ * [[“No.”|Sammy-Imre4][$stay to true]] * [[“Ok.”|Sammy-Imre4]] </h3>

<h3><<if $stay>>\ “We're here aren't we? Doing what we're doing was never going to be easy Imre,” you say. Imre's expression gives nothing away as to whether he agrees with the pragmatic approach you have. You both get out and you walk over to his side of the car. Both of you lean against it and watch the house. “Christina works at the hair salon and Joshua is a mechanic,” Imre begins. “Joshua came home late last night like most nights so Christina is usually the one with Sammy.” You notice a face peeking out from a neighboring house. They aren't looking at you but at the Palmer's house. You look around you and see that there are quite a few people out on their porch or sitting in their living rooms with the windows and blinds open. Even the kids playing hopscotch occasionally look at the house. //Vultures//, the word aggressively bounces in your head. //Just like you.// “So it's not the father,” you state. “No. Although while it was make it easier if we found the suspect right away it would make it distateful to have a father murder his son,” Imre replies. Imre moves off the car and you follow him. You cross the street and walk up the white painted steps to the landing of the porch. You note the amount of flowers crowding the door and it's surroudings. Flowers of all sizes, colors and smells. Some of them have cards and others have tiny tags of condolences. The fragrance is so overwhelming you're head starts hurting. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Imre dings the doorbell. “Do you want to take the lead or shall I?” he asks. You intake a sharp breath through your nose. <hr>\ * [[“I'll do it.”|Sammy-Imre5]] * [[“You're a better talker.”|Sammy-Imre5*]] <<elseif not $stay>>\ “Fuck. I made us come all the way here and now I can't even go in,” you seethe. Imre makes an 'nuh huh' sound. “Sometimes choices can be brilliant but harder to make into actions, we knew this investigation was going to be hard.” “These just seem like names y'know? Paper,” you say wearily. He nods. //You're weak.// You rub your face. You turn up the music a bit higher and say, “I want to get out of here.” Imre puts the car into 'DRIVE' and says with a sly smile, “I have the perfect place to go to kill the time until we meet up with Lorcan.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“It was my decision to come here anyway,” you say and lightly knock on the door for good measure. <<set $lead to true>> Imre smiles. After a minute passes and no one answers you hit the doorbell and knock. You strain your ears to hear if any footsteps are coming towards the door. Imre leans closer to the glass and squints, “I don't see— wait, someone's coming.” You two take a step back as the door opens. A man you can only describe as haggard stands taller than both of you. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He wears a green flannel shirt overtop a white shirt and blue jeans. His feet are in brown scuffed boats. His black hair with strands of gray hang limply past his shoulders. A five o'clock shadow lies below two deep set eyes aren't red but are swollen. “Just leave the flowers on the porch, please,” his gruff voice instructs. He steps back and lays a hand on the knob. “Wait!“ you say and place a foot on the door frame. The man — who can be no other than Joshua Palmer — blinks tiredly at you. “We're here to talk about your son.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want reporters to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected miss.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want reporters to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected mister.”<</if>> Imre takes a step forward as well. “We look a bit too young to be reporters sir,” he chimes in. Joshua's expression doesn't change. “Who are you and why do you think you can come here and bother us about our boy?” Imre quirks his eyebrows at you. It's all you. <hr>\ * [[“I have a personal connection and I brought my boyfriend.”|Sammy-Imre6][$fakedatingIS to true]] * [[“We saw him.”|Sammy-Imre6][$friendsIS is true]] </h3>

<h3>Joshua's eyes darken, his mouth presses tightly together. “Listen, I don't want to yell at some kids today but right now is really not the time for me nor my family to be answering any questions,” he tries to close the door again. “Dad?” a female voice says from inside the house. He moves aside as a young girl walks up to you. She seems to be around fifteen with similar hair colouring as her father, although her's is up in a ponytail. “Amanda,” Imre greets her. She beams. “Hi Imre, and... you're $name right?” “Yeah,” you say awkwardly as you look to Imre for an explanation. “Amanda is on the student council,” he explains. Amanda puts a hand on her dad's shoulder and entreats, “can they come in dad? I'm sure they'll be respectful.” Joshua just turns around and goes into the house without a word. Amanda watches him leave for a moment and blinks rapidly. “Come in guys,” she insists. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Ladies first,” Imre waves you in.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre goes and you follow.<</if>> The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. You follow Amanda through a short hall into the kitchen. Gray light shines of the table but even so the light's on. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who sits at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. Imre pulls down a chair and sits down next to her. “Christina?” he says softly. <<if $fakedatingIS >>You sit down next to Imre, directly across from Christina.<<elseif not $friendsIS>>You lean against the sink, directly in Imre's line of sight.<</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre7]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingIS >>\ Christina's eyes are so pinned to the photo of her soon you know that you'll have no luck in getting eye contact. Your eyes roam over her red, trembling face. She makes you think of a Jack-in-the-box, winding, winding, winding. You lay a hand on the table, over some of the pictures and with a cautious voice you say, “Mrs. Palmer, I know this is a difficult time and the last thing you want is someone bothering you but we //need// to know a few things about Sammy.” Imre watches you as you talk, his face expressionless. A small thought in your head wonders what he thinks of your attempt. Christina doesn't react to your voice. Her tear-streaked eyes hardly blink as as they stare at the child's face forever trapped in a smile. Your finger taps lightly on the glossy pictures. “Mrs. Palmer, did you hear me?” Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. You lean back in your chair and your finger sweeps the picture off the table. You go to pick it up but Christina snatches it from the linoleum tiles. This picture shows a younger Sammy racing across grass, he's looking determinedly ahead. Christina's fingernails dig into the picture as if she wishes she could tear into it and pull her son out. “Mrs. Palmer do you know why Sammy was out last night?” you ask, a bit more exasperated. She places the picture down on the table, her fingers pressing into it. This whole time Imre has kept her gaze on you, waiting to see. Perhaps to judge you're handling of this, to see how inadequate you are. “I told him that he was too small to play basketball with the big kids, that someone would step on him, elbow him but he was always stubborn,” Christina murmurs. Imre reaches over to clasps your hand, you almost jolt out your seat at the contact. Your hand remains frozen on the table and he turns it over and entrenches his fingers between yours. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Mrs. Palmer, my girlfriend has a cousin who was in the same grade as Sammy and she's trying to get answers to give back to her,” Imre assures.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mrs. Palmer, my boyfriend has a cousin who was in the same grade as Sammy and he's trying to get answers to give back to her,” Imre assures.<</if>> Imre, with his words like honey, his friendly eyes and innocent smile do the trick. Christina looks up slowly, her head slightly wavering as if she's in water. “He had such small little toes once, I would press them to my nose and it would smell like flower petals,” she intones, eyes unfocused but on Imre. “He was a good boy, wasn't he?” Imre offers. She looks at your intertwined hands, and directs her question to you, “do you care about my son?” <hr>\ * [[Say something compassionate.|Sammy-Imre8][$compassion to true]] * [[Say something funny.|Sammy-Imre8][$funny to true]] * [[Tell the truth.|Sammy-Imre8][$truth to true]] <<elseif not $friendsIS>> Christina's eyes are so pinned to the photo of her soon you know that you'll have no luck in catching her eye if she does look your way. From where you are you only see the side of her face but from that you see how red, trembling face it is. She makes you think of a Jack-in-the-box, winding, winding, winding. You jut a foot out and slightly bend, you don't want to seem overwhelming. “Mrs. Palmer, I know this is a difficult time and the last thing you want is someone bothering you but we //need// to know a few things about Sammy.” Imre watches you as you talk, his face expressionless. A small thought in your head wonders what he thinks of your attempt. Christina doesn't react to your voice. Her tear-streaked eyes hardly blink as as they stare at the child's face forever trapped in a smile. You tilt your head, trying to make her notice. “Mrs. Palmer, did you hear me?” Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. You straighten up and lean back against the sink. She's too busy looking at that damn— you get an idea, quick as lightning you go to grab a picture and accidentally swipe it to the floor. You go to pick it up but Christina snatches it from the linoleum tiles. This picture shows a younger Sammy racing across grass, he's looking determinedly ahead. You hear from Imre a sound that feels suspiciously like a laugh. Christina's fingernails dig into the picture as if she wishes she could tear into it and pull her son out. “Mrs. Palmer do you know why Sammy was out last night?” you ask, a bit more exasperated. She places the picture down on the table, her fingers pressing into it. This whole time Imre has kept her gaze on you, waiting to see. Perhaps to judge you're handling of this, to see how inadequate you are. “I told him that he was too small to play basketball with the big kids, that someone would step on him, elbow him but he was always stubborn,” Christina murmurs. Imre sits up and places his forearms down on the table. He picks up a picture of Sammy and says kindly, “he was brave.” Christina seems to see Imre for the first time since you two got her. You feel a pang of annoyance at how easy it is for him. “Mrs. Palmer, my friend and I saw your son's body this morning, while they were taking him away and we're here because we want to get to know him,” Imre assures. Imre, with his words like honey, his friendly eyes and innocent smile do the trick. Christina looks like she's a bit less adrift. “He had such small little toes once, I would press them to my nose and it would smell like flower petals,” she intones, eyes misty but on Imre. “He was a good boy, wasn't he?” Imre offers. She looks at your intertwined hands, and directs her question to you, “do you care about my son?” <hr>\ * [[Say something compassionate.|Sammy-Imre8*][$compassion to true]] * [[Say something funny.|Sammy-Imre8*][$funny to true]] * [[Tell the truth.|Sammy-Imre8*][$truth to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $compassion>>\ “Of course we care,” you insist, leaning forward. Christina's eyes become clearer, “when is my son's birthday?” You look to Imre who looks up at the ceiling, not out of shame but to try not to roll his eyes. “Mrs. Palmer I don't—“ “What is his favourite show in all the world?” You grit your teeth, “when I said we care I didn't mean that I knew—“ “What does he want to be when he grows up?” The fingers on your right hand stiffen and your fingernails scratch on your pant leg. “I don't know,” you say between pressed teeth. “You don't know,” she echoes, as if this was always going to be the outcome. //It was.// There's a terse silence between you two, Joshua seems to be debating whether to step forward and Imre looks from you to her, unemotional and unwilling to step in. “They all say 'we're sorry for your loss' because that's what they're supposed to say. Those are words are nothing! They don't know anything and they don't care! Like you! You! You only come here because you want something! The latest scandal to gossip about with your fucking friends!“ she screams, shooting up from her seat. Amanda goes to her, laying a small hand on her shoulder, “mom maybe—“ She's breathing heavily, her body shaking with rage. “Who tells me that you didn't kill him! That's why you're here! To gloat! To rub it in my face that my baby's dead!“ Joshua tries to grab Christina's hand but she slaps his hand away. She rolls her shoulder and Amanda's hand slides off defeated. “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!“ she screeches, spit flying from her mouth. The Jack-in-the-box has sprung. <<if $fakedatingIS >>Imre pushes his seat back and with his hand still in yours he leads you away from the woman who's screams turn to wails that follow you as you shut the door behind you.<<elseif not $friendsIS>>Imre pushes his seat back and shoots you a look which makes your feet move to follow him out of the house while Christina's screams turn to wails.<</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9*]] <<elseif $funny>>\ “As much as that guy who got his dick cut off cared about his,” you say with a smile. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Imre looks at you like you've gone insane. Shaking his head, “dear God.” He holds up his hands in a peace gesture and tries to fix what you've done by saying with a repentive voice, “she didn't mean that. What she meant is that she does care, and so do I.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre looks at you like you've gone insane. Shaking his head, “dear God.” He holds up his hands in a peace gesture and tries to fix what you've done by saying with a repentive voice, “he didn't mean that. What she meant is that he does care, and so do I.”<</if>> Christina sniffs and looks you in the eyes. Oh shit. It felt clever in the moment. Gallows' humor and all that. What the hell were you thinking?! A litany of apologies are on the tip of your tongue. And she laughs. Well not //laugh// laugh but a stream of air comes out of her mouth. It has more pain in it than humor but it's there. Imre stops talking. She blinks and looks down at her pictures. “These kids are going missing. I knew. Everyone knows. I heard they need it. I just didn't...,” she cries, “it's awful but I didn't care because I didn't think it would happen to me.” You give her a solemn nod, “that's ok. When something's been going on for so long whether you like it or not you adapt.” She shakes her head, her eyes brimming with new sets of tears. She says to you, “I don't really know anything. I can't tell you more than the papers. He was so stubborn. He didn't like having a curfew.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she gives you one last look before entering the hall. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9]] <<elseif $truth>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I care about him as much as you can care about a kid who was too young to die Mrs. Palmer. My sorrow is in no way comparable to yours. I'm just—,” you sigh heavily, “I'm just a girl who's too curious for her own good.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I care about him as much as you can care about a kid who was too young to die Mrs. Palmer. My sorrow is in no way comparable to yours. I'm just—,” you sigh heavily, “I'm just a boy who's too curious for his own good.”<</if>> Imre's jaw tenses to show his displeasure. His eyes hold nothing in them but you know he believes you should've put some glitter on your story. But what he thinks doesn't matter, you felt this was the right choice. Christina breathes in, her nose sounding with all the snot she has stored up. Her nail traces Sammy's face. “These kids are going missing. I knew. Everyone knows. I heard they need it. I just didn't...,” she cries, “it's awful but I didn't care because I didn't think it would happen to me.” You give her a solemn nod, “that's ok. When something's been going on for so long whether you like it or not you adapt.” She shakes her head, her eyes brimming with new sets of tears. She says to you, “I don't really know anything. I can't tell you more than the papers. He was so stubborn. He didn't like having a curfew.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She looks at you with a such a deep naked look of understanding that it makes you squirm, “thank you for being honest, it's a good thing to be.” She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she gives you one last look before entering the hall. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Amanda awkwardly stands between the exit and the counters. She looks unsure of what to do. <<if $lead>> You pull a chair out and say with a small smile, “you can sit with us if you want.” She looks to the hall for a brief moment before tentatively smiling back. She sits down and scoots close to the table. Imre winks at you. You feel a sense of proud blooming in your chest but you don't reciprocate, instead focusing on Amanda. You wait a moment before launching into questioning. You look for something you can latch on. You notice a blue ring on her finger. You gesture to it, “that's the evil eye, right?” She circles her finger over it and replies, “yeah. I got it from the gumball machine at the arcade.” “Cool, very cool,” you enthuse. She makes an 'uh huh' noise. Well that's a conversation starter. You enternally berate yourself for never learning how to make small talk. Luckily, you have a professional yapper with you. You raise your eyebrows at Imre and jerk you head to the girl. He smiles, he doesn't need to be told twice. He leans close to Amanda, his shoulder brushing hers. Her eye widen and she rolls her lips. What the heck is going on? “They say these ward off evil intentions,” Imre explains in a light tone. “You wear this and no harm will come to you.” Amanda fiddles with it, “maybe I should've given it to my brother.” “Amanda,” Imre whispers and lays his arm around her shoulders, “you couldn't have known.” She rubs her eye but that doesn't stop a small drop of water to fall from it and land on the table. //Tears not water.// “Yeah,” she croaks. “I gave him the book though.” You lean forward at that. Imre doesn't react and merely asks, “what book?” She rolls her lips and looks into his eyes, the minute she does though her eyes widen and she looks back down. A blush creeps up her cheeks. Oh. Suddenly you understand. <<if $fakedatingIS >>\ You feel a metal coil lodge itself in your chest. You bite your tongue. She's a kid. As if Imre would ever look her way. You push those thoughts away, it's none of your business anyway. You're only pretending to date him. <<elseif not $friendsIS>>\ You know people fawn over him. You never have and didn't think it could be so obvious as it is now. Perhaps it's because she's a kid and kids act strange with crushes. It is interesting to watch the allure he has on people.<</if>> “Alice in Wonderland, I gave him the book. It's a banned book. But I got it and I let him read it and now he's dead because he wanted to find adventure,” she confesses, the last of her sentence wobbily in her voice. He squeezes her shoulder and assures her gently that a book didn't kill her brother, something or someone else did and will continue to do so to others. Imre rubs her arm up and down and although big blobs of tears fall down her cheeks and onto the pictures, she doesn't fall apart. Her sniffles are low and steady. Imre continues to whisper words of assurance and comfort. You feel so intensely now how out of place you are. You're supposed to be leading but human connection, the ability to speak words that affect change in others for the better is so foreign to you. <<elseif not $lead>> Imre grins at Amanda and says, “why don't you hang out with us? I swear it won't be torture.” Amanda looks down at her feet, a secretive smile on her face. Imre pats the seat where Christina was seating, right next to him. Amanda's fingers drum against her legs. “Ok,” she squeaks out. She practically runs to the seat and sits down, as she scoots herself closer to the table she also manages to move the seat closer to Imre than what it was originally when her mother was in it. Imre wastes no time and leaning closer to the girl, his arm brushing hers. Her eye widen and she rolls her lips. What the heck is going on? “I study these symbols,” he says and touches the ring she has on her finger. The evil eye. “Since Ancient times people have used all kinds of charms to ward off evil spirits. This one has endured. It must work,” he smiles at her. “That's why I wasn't taken?” she asks, her voice filled with emotion. “Amanda,” Imre whispers and lays his arm around her shoulders, “no one is to blame except for the monster who did this.” She rubs her eye but that doesn't stop a small drop of water to fall from it and land on the table. //Tears not water.// “Yeah,” she croaks. “But if I hadn't given him that book...” You lean forward at that. Imre doesn't react and merely asks, “what book?” She rolls her lips and looks into his eyes, the minute she does though her eyes widen and she looks back down. A blush creeps up her cheeks. Oh. Suddenly you understand. <<if $fakedatingIS >>\ You feel a metal coil lodge itself in your chest. You bite your tongue. She's a kid. As if Imre would ever look her way. You push those thoughts away, it's none of your business anyway. You're only pretending to date him. <<elseif not $friendsIS>>\ You know people fawn over him. You never have and didn't think it could be so obvious as it is now. Perhaps it's because she's a kid and kids act strange with crushes. It is interesting to watch the allure he has on people.<</if>> “Alice in Wonderland, I gave him the book. It's a banned book. But I got it and I let him read it and now he's dead because he wanted to find adventure,” she confesses, the last of her sentence wobbily in her voice. He squeezes her shoulder and assures her gently that a book didn't kill her brother, something or someone else did and will continue to do so to others. Imre rubs her arm up and down and although big blobs of tears fall down her cheeks and onto the pictures, she doesn't fall apart. Her sniffles are low and steady. Imre continues to whisper words of assurance and comfort. There have been many moments in your life when you felt like this. Out of place. Slotted into a space you can't properly fit. That's why Imre is the talker, that's why he can console Amanda where you can't. <</if>> They stay like that for a long while. At least it feels like that for you. You watch the leaves move in the wind of the trees in the backyard. The gray light shift and move as the day gets older. Amanda blows into Imre's hankerchief. It's a lot and it's messy but he doesn't seem to care, he likely has many. As the girl is cleaning up the outside of her nose she looks at your from above the material. Red-rimmed eyes spark with a question for you. <<if $fakedatingIS >>From behind the hankerchief, her voice a bit muffled she asks, “are you guys actually dating?”<<elseif not $fakedatingIS>>From behind the hankerchief, her voice a bit muffled she asks, “did you guys really see my brother's body?”<</if>> Imre gives you a plain message on his face when he turns to you. Eyebrow slightly raised. Lie, don't tell her the truth, do as I tell you, his eyes say. <hr>\ * [[Lie.|Sammy-Imre10][$Amanda to true]] * [[Tell the truth.|Sammy-Imre10**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingIS >>\ You run your thumb along Imre's pinky and try to make yourself look lovingly at him. “Of course we are,” you state. Imre brings your hand to his mouth, giving it a chaste kiss. His lips against your skin makes your stomach twitch. Amanda blushes even harder. “That's like a fairytale.” “How so?” you ask, your voice pitching slightly as Imre fingers your wrist. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Well he's like prince Charming and you're like one of the stepsisters,” she explains, “no offence.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Well he's like the prince and you're like one of the dwarves,” she explains, “no offence.”<</if>> “None taken,” you snort. <<elseif not $fakedatingIS>>\ You nod, transforming your features into a look of haunting and regret. “I don't know what Imre was doing but I was out for a walk.” Imre says, “I was passing by, going to the library when I saw the coroner's van.” “Oh,” Amanda says awkwardly. “That really sucks,” she adds. You agree, “not as much as it does for you and your family.” She doesn't respond, just twists her ring around. <</if>> Seemingly believing you, or not caring enough to prove your lies Amanda warms up to you. She heats a kettle and pours each of you chamomile tea. She sits down and places a plate with ginger cookies in the middle of the table, moving aside the pictures. Imre gathers them and organizes them into a pile. <<if $sbtwo>>\ You move your tea around and ask as casually as you can, “did your brother have a special mark on him?” Amanda dips a cookie into her tea, “a mark?” “Yeah, I know the state of his body wasn't the best but this mark would be distinct. It would look intentional and precise. Clean. A strange symbol somewhere around his torso?” Amanda bites into her cookie and ponders, “my dad did say that he thinks maybe it was satanists. He didn't say anything more but maybe it was because of that mark?” Imre sips his tea, lost in thought. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>\ “If don't know if this helps at all but my dad said he thinks satanists might've done this,” Amanda admits, dipping her cookie into her tea. Imre smirks but you pay him no mind. You ask, “why do you think he thinks that?” Amanda bites into her cookie and replies, “I don't know. He said something about some weird lines on my brother's stomach? Satanic symbols maybe.” Imre scoffs into his tea and you move the teabag around. <</if>> Amanda wipes the crumbs off her lips and tells you directly, “I don't know what you're doing but you care enough about Sammy to be here asking stuff. Promise me you'll find out what happened to him.” “Amanda—“ “Promise me, $name.” <hr>\ * [[“I promise.”|Sammy-Imre11][$promise to true]] * [[“I can't do that.”->Sammy-Imre11*]] </h3>

<h3>You look her in the eyes and say, “I promise.” //Tsk, tsk, tsk. You'll break her heart.// The three of you finish the tea in silence, Amanda mostly eats the cookies while Imre tries one and makes a face and you don't feel that hungry. At a certain point Imre checks his watch and states, “it's rather late, we must be going.” And as Imre and Amanda begin chatting about student council you stay behind for a moment and look at a certain picture that's been bothering you since you got here. Sammy's dressed as a ghost. You... <<cycle '$sammypic' autoselect>><<option 'take it.'>><<option 'leave it on the table.'>><</cycle>> As the sun begins lowering to the horizon, Amanda guides you to the door. You three all watch each other at the door. Imre takes a moment to tell Amanda that it's best if she keeps your conversation to herself which she agrees to. You awkwardly wave, “see you around Amanda.” She smiles at you, “you're not as bad as they say $name.” You just smile. Imre holds out his hand and Amanda takes it, her bashful face glowing in the dying sun. “I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting.” She giggles and then clears her throat, “yeah totally Imre.” He grins and you lead the way to the car. <<if $fakedatingIS >> Imre's hand travels to your waist and he only lets go when you split up.<<elseif not $fakedatingIS>> Buckling your seatbelt, Imre turns on the engine.<</if>> As you go meet Lorcan, Imre divulges, “you were convincing there.” <<if $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'she'>>“With pretending to be your girlfriend?”<<elseif $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'he'>>“With pretending to be your boyfriend?”<<elseif not $friendsIS && $pronouns is 'she'>>“With pretending to be your friend?”<<elseif not $friendsIS && $pronouns is 'he'>>“With pretending to be your friend?”<</if>> “Yes, it was very believable,” he says with a smirk. <<if $fakedatingIS >>You roll your lips, crossing your arms and saying in a monotone voice, “you were too. Anyone could've sworn that you like me.”<<elseif not $friendsIS>>You roll your lips, crossing your arms and saying in a monotone voice, “you were too. Anyone could've sworn that you find me agreeable.”<</if>> <<if $fakedatingIS >>“I guess we're both good actors,” he remarks, tapping on the wheel.<<elseif not $friendsIS>>“Agreeable,” he mimics in a mocking tone.<</if>> “Sure,” you say and turn in your seat to give him full view of your back. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre12]] </h3>

<h3>“So, Anna about Candace...,” you hear Imre's voice say from leagues away. The slow descent into slumber that you get from alcohol is pleasant. It's as if you were a baby and your mother were gently rocking you in her arms. <<if $fakedatingImre >>You sink into the hungry couch. Instead of it feeling like a sandpit you welcome it like a blanket were hugging you.<<elseif not $fakedating>>You feel yourself fall back onto the trash on the floor. You don't mind the random crap digging into your back. The ceiling moves in waves.<</if>> Nothing matters as you're swallowed by the sweet embrace of sleep. ... ... ... <<if $nickname>>“$nickname?”<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name?”<</if>> You feel a gentle shake on your shoulder. “I'm not housing a sleeping drunk teen in my house,” Anna says from somewhere. One eye pops open and you see Imre's face hovering over you. It's still cloudy. He studies your face and then says, “I think you'll need some help, right?” You mumble, “iiii canht dawt it.” “Uh huh,” he responds.<<if $fakedatingImre >> He leans in as if he wants to give you a hug and you smile, throwing your arms around his neck. He grunts, hooking his arm under your knees. “Woop!“ you yell contently. Imre grunts again as he hoists you up. You lay your head against his strong chest, practically snuggling. You're not sure if it's his heartbeat ringing in your ears or your own. “Thank you for your hospitality Anna and your comprehension. We must be going now.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Anna smiles, not too hard, something that would barely count as a smile and replies, “take your girlfriend home.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Anna smiles, not too hard, something that would barely count as a smile and replies, “take your boyfriend home.”<</if>> Anna opens the front door while Imre turns sideways and covers your head to prevent it from slamming against the door frame. You blow a kiss to Anna as he carries you to the car. <<elseif not $fakedating>>He holds out a hand and you grip it heartily. You smile a big smile at him. Everything is just so great! Imre places a hand on your back to steady you and with the other holds your wrist. You feel your knees buckle and yell, “oopsie!“ Imre holds you back from sliding to the ground. He sighs and says to Anna, “ “Thank you for your hospitality Anna and your comprehension. We must be going now.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Anna smiles, not too hard, something that would barely count as a smile and replies, “take your girl friend home.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Anna smiles, not too hard, something that would barely count as a smile and replies, “take your boy friend home.”<</if>> Anna opens the front door while Imre keeps you from leaning too far in either direction and prevent you from slamming against the door frame. You blow a kiss to Anna as he helps you to the car. <</if>> He slides swiftly into the driver's seat and puts on your seltbelt for you. You watch him with a lazy smile and his blank expression turns into a smile. “What?” “You like me.” You poke his arm. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>He laughs, “you won't remember this at all nena.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He laughs, “you won't remember this at all nene.”<</if>> [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>You incline your head slightly, not a nod exactly but an admission of approval. A way to wash your hands of the business. He's better at this anyway. Imre cups his chin, and leans closer to Anna. An expression on his face that says he means no harm, he's could be a friend. “Believe me Anna, I do feel for your loss. I cannot imagine what it feels like to lose someone you love and be left hopeless and alone,” he says sympathetically. Anna looks at him, leaning slightly forward. Imre exhales through his nose, his eyes downturned in a way that makes him look like a puppy. “And I can't imagine how it would feel to add disgrace and shame to your plight.” Anna goes still, she blinks and then asks, “what do you mean?” Imre smiles sadly and looks down, remorse filling his face. “It's just... do you know how people would talk, how they would whisper if they knew her true parentage?” Anna begins to tremble, her voice a squeak when she replies, “but how would they know?” Imre looks up, a perfect imitation of sorrow in his eyes. If he wasn't using his skills for a task such as this you would be in awe. Perhaps, you still are. The silence speaks for itself. Imre lays a hand on her arm and she flinches, “do you really want to do that harm to her? You already neglected her enough for someone to kill her. At the very least you can protect her from the vultures that will come picking at her bones with their cruel words.” Anna takes a sharp breath. “I'm just trying to help you,” Imre professes kindly. Her and Imre are still as statues for an entire minute. Her looking down at her lap and him, a hand on her arm and a look of compassion on his face. A gasp like an animal being kicked leaves her lips. When she looks up her eyes are glassy, pooling things of brown. “I don't know about the party but I did notice she was missing right away,” she cries. “I wasn't a bad mother, I went to the station and I begged for them to report her missing, I stayed there for hours until they kicked me out.” Imre hands you the notebook and you write down 'POLICE STATION - PURPOSELY UNCOOPERATIVE.' “It's ok, you can keep going,” Imre encourages gently. She shakes her head a few times a snot-filled sniff preceding her answer, “I called and called the station but they wouldn't answer my calls so I looked for her myself. When she showed up at the fair, with her injuries...,” she cuts off. She gulps and continues, “I thought it would make them open an investigation but without even asking me they said it was a suicide! She was missing a foot! She was naked and beaten and they said it was a FUCKING SUICIDE!“ She throws the bottle against the wall where it shatters into pieces that fly in all directions. You and Imre both stand up, Anna sticks her hand into the space between her couch cushion and the couch proper. She brings out a frame. You can only see it upside down. Its a girl around your age with blond, teased hair falling down her shoulders. She smiles widely at the camera, her hands on her hips and her leg jutting out. Anna holds it to her chest and sobs painfully. “Did your parents ask for Orla's death to be ruled an accident?” Imre asks. You shake your head. “I don't know, the newspaper were already running with that theory a few hours after they found her.” Anna looks up from under her wet eyelashes, sniffs escaping her nose, her mouth glistening. Her face holding cold grief, “are you happy now? You fucking bloodsuckers. You're just like him,” she spits at you as she points to Imre. “I know what they say about you.” Chuckling she asks, “tell me, how does it feel to kill someone?” Imre takes a step forward. “That's enough,” he commands. He sticks his hand in his pocket, taking out a leather wallet. He picks out a twenty and throws it on the table. You see a cruel smile on his face, “it'd advise you to use this to get your daughter flowers but I know it'll be used for another bottle.” Anna glares at him. “GET OUT!“ she screams, spit flying from her mouth. <<if $fakedatingImre >>\ You feel something touch your hand and you look down to see another hand curling it's fingers around yours. You allow Imre to guide you out of the house. “We're sorry to have bothered you Mrs. Franklin,” Imre says as he opens the door. <<elseif not $fakedatingImre >> You feel a weight on your shoulder and look down to see a veiny hand grip you. You follow behind Imre as you seek to leave this place. “We're sorry to have bothered you Mrs. Franklin,” Imre says as he opens the door. <</if>> [[NEXT->Imre-Candace10]] </h3>

<h3>“You would still believe what you want. And so would everyone else,” you claim. Imre tilts his head, “that is true. But it is odd how you never defend yourself.” You nod, “yeah. But how do you know I haven't before and this is just me growing tired?” Imre hums, a cheeky smile his face as he turns on the engine. “Time will surely tell.” As he backs up you say, “you never said if you think I'm a murderer or not.” Imre's eyes quickly flash to yours, “of course I don't.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“Anyone who thinks they're hanging with a cold-blooded killer would run the other way, but you look excited,” you state. Imre snorts, “I'm just having a good day $name. You're fun to be around.” Now it's your turn to snort, “that's how I know you're completely deranged. All the friends you have and I'm 'fun'?” Imre chuckles, his dimples prominent, “you see, we do have things in common.” As he backs up you say, “you never said if you think I'm a murderer or not.” Imre's eyes quickly flash to yours, “of course I don't.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“My opinion wouldn't count much to someone like you,” you reply. Imre's smile remains but his eyebrows press together, “why would you think that?” You exhale wearily, “because why wouldn't I think that?” Imre looks into your eyes for a long moment, so long you look ahead. You feel like you're under his microscope. <<if $nickname>>He shifts the car into reverse and says as he looks over his shoulder, “I value your opinion $nickname.”<<elseif not $nickname>>He shifts the car into reverse and says as he looks over his shoulder, “I value your opinion $name.”<</if>> //“Yeah sure,”// you think. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“It's generally not seen as compliment to someone when you accuse them of butchering their sister,” you say with a plastic smile. Imre shrugs, “well you're not normal and given that from what you've seen I'm not that normal I would say those rules don't apply.” You laugh incredulously at his joke, which dies in your throat when you see the serious look in his eyes despite his smile. “Are you implying we're the same?” you inquire. He chuckles. “Have I not said that before? Well if I haven't I'll say it now.” As he backs up you say, “you never said if you think I'm a murderer or not.” Imre's eyes quickly flash to yours, “no.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“You and all your little friends would have a riot if you found out I did do it,” you proclaim, you're tone coming out more forceful than you intended. Imre grins, “is that what you think I am? A hen clucking with the others, mindlessly waiting for corn?” “I don't know what you are,” you grin coldly. He begins backing out of the clearing, “no you really don't.” “You never said if you think I'm a murderer or not.” Imre's eyes quickly flash to yours, “I don't know what you are.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“I think it's not only great but also an honor to be included in the same group as that one killer who was murdered in prison a few months ago,” you say sarcastically. Imre bows his head, “I'm glad you see it my way.” You shake your head, chuckling at his insanity. “I didn't take you for a fanboy.” He begins backing away from the house, “of course, I wrote to him everday while he was alive.” You raise an eyebrow and his grin looks so real you could believe he's telling the truth. “You never said if you think I'm a murderer or not,” you state. Imre's eyes quickly flash to yours, “if you get arrested for anything, you'll know the answer if I send you letters.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace11]] </h3>

<h3>“Really?” You smile, “you'd think I'd say no?” He matches your smile, “yes I did.” You finish your cone, and wipe your sticky fingers on the napkins, “so what's next? Asking me my astrology sign?” He laughs, “actually yes, when's your birthday?” “December 17th, I don't know what sign that is though,” you confess. “Sagittarius,” he answers. Imre lowers the seat and tells you to do the same. “You're a bit bossy,” you say teasingly. He raises an eyebrow, an expectant look on his face and lower down the seat, laying down to be eye to eye with him. It's as if you're in the same bed. Your stomach lurches with that thought. His smile is less obnoxious here. Maybe it's because his face is pressed against the headrest but he looks almost boyish. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” You huff, “I don't know.” His eyebrows slightly rise, “you've never thought about it?” You shake your head. It almost scares you when his finger lightly brushes against your cheek. It's feather-light and gone just as quickly. “You could be a statue, forever frozen in perfection,” he breathes. “Does the great Imre Duran value beauty over brains?” He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “that is the nicest way someone has ever called me vain.” You laugh. “I am a very friendly person,” you jest. “Aha,” he lifts up a finger, “which is why you'd be a great statue. We need more kind looking statues, too much doom and tears.” “You're saying you want Michelangelo's //David// to smile more?” you retort. He nods, “exactly. That's why in my eyes it's almost a masterpiece but not quite. You'd be a worthy replacement.” You can still feel where he touched you. You've never been touched like that. Your brother has touched you gently but this is a different kind of thing. Your fingers ache to touch him too. Maybe you'll skim his soft cheek, dare yourself to graze his lips and outline the contour of his adam's apple. You know if you did, he would let you. You don't know where this certainty comes from but you feel it in your bones. Oh god. “It won't pay much,” you mumble and turn away. Moving the seat back up. You clear your throat and pretend to be really interested in the pedestarian right-of-way sign. From the corner of your vision you see Imre put his seat up. Imre yawns and stretches his arms over his head. He rolls his shoulders and turns on the car, “let's get this day over with.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>“Oh, so you do care about me?” he says in an annoyingly teasing voice. You roll your eyes, “I care about you like I would care about running into a polar bear.” You toss out the rest of your cone. “Are you calling me fat?” he retorts with an ever-growing grin on his face. Your mouth stretches into an uncomfortable smile, “let me put it this way, if we crashed landed in the Andes I would definitely eat you first.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and your eyes grow bigger in alarm. “What the fuck are you doing? Since when is cannibalism an invitation for sex?!“ Imre chuckles in a deep tone that makes you think of crackling wood and cigars. Masculine things, virility. You scowl at your stupid thoughts and look back to see his stomach exposed to the streetlight. He pinches it, “hmmm if you start here you won't get much meat, it's mostly muscle.” Four hard squares move as he moves. Your eyes must be wide as saucers and you should probably look away. “Perhaps my behind?” he suggests and begins unbuckling his belt. “I will punch you,” you threaten. Imre throws his head back and laughs. He buttons up his shirt and leans back in the seat. His eyes amused as they observe you. Your chest rises and lowers as you find you're out of breath. Your eyebrows are bunched together and you feel a pit in your stomach. It must be anger. “So, aren't you going to question me?” he asks, his voice not holding back amusement. Your teeth grind against each other and you glare at the street ahead, “I'm not one of those lovestruck idiots that coo all over you. Don't treat me like I am.” He sighs and straigtens up, you quickly glance at him when he's not looking and glance away. You roll your lips to stop a smirk from forming, you made him feel bad. Good. “Hey,” he says. You ignore him. You want to get out of this very hot car. You never thought you would be wishing for Lorcan to pop up to annoy you. Imre cups your chin and forces you to look at him. He brings his face close to yours. Your eyes flutter as heat spreads from where his soft fingers touch your skin. “You,” he whispers, “are no lovestruck fool.” You lick your lips, “idiot.” He looks confused, “what?” <<set $imrebite to true>> You smirk, “I said idiot not fool. But you're both so it doesn't matter.” His grip on your chin tightens, his grin turning a bit more animalistic. He'll keep squeezing until he bruises you. So you do as you must. You tilt your head forward and bite him. You taste his flesh between your teeth and pull. He grunts and shoves your face away. You almost hit the window but you don't care as you watch Imre grab a napkin and press it to his palm. You taste something metallic and lick your front teeth. His gaze is hard like rocks which contrasts with the mirth of the rest of his face. “Speaking of cannibalism, now you owe me,” he notes. You chuckle. “I dare you to try,” you reply. You close your eyes and lay back, making your face look uncaring. Somewhere inside of you hopes he will. Neither of you say anything else to each other as you go and meet with Lorcan. But the space between you two feels more alive than ever before. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>He laughs. “Is that the extent of your Latin knowledge?” “I think it's the extent of most people's. Let me guess, you know perfect Latin,” you tease. Imre smiles and nods. “Ok, what other languages do you know?” He presses his two forefingers together, “English, Spanish, Greek — Ancient and Modern, Arabic, and advanced Mandarin.” You raise you eyebrows, impressed. “Why do you know so many languages?” Imre points at you accusingly, “no, no. no. It's my turn.” You raise your hands up in surrender. “What is your favourite childhood memory?” That question stuns you. Your eyebrows lower and your gaze drops to your lap. <hr>\ * [[“The time Sally took us to the lake for Percy's birthday.”]] * [[“A Halloween sleepover with Nia.”]] * [[“Christmas 1984.”]] * [[“I don't have one.”]] </h3>

<h3>You cross your arms and lean back in your seat. Your eyes remain glued to the street in front of you. Imre sighs, “I don't think I would ever meet an Ebenezer Scrooge out of book pages.” You clamp your mouth shut and stare into the abyss. Imre chuckles half-heartedly and turns the key. “As you wish, maybe you'll be more talkative when you see Lorcan, if anyone can get you angry enough to talk, it's him.” You exhale. [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>You look up and Imre makes a gesture as in 'elaborate.' You clear your throat and say, “I don't remember which birthday it was but my parents had forgotten. Back in those days Dad was home more and mother was less,” you vaguely gesture, “so they just completely neglected it. Sally didn't. He took us to the lake where I almost drowned and then we bought a cake and went home.” Imre chuckles. “What?” you ask. “It's just... you're happiest childhood memory is a day in which your parents forgot your brother's birthday and you almost died?” he says it as a question but it's more incredulity mixed in with bemusement. You snort, “well when you say it like that it does sound pathetic.” Imre lays his hand on your arm, “it's not pathetic.” You smile and he moves his hand away. <hr>\ * [[“If you could be anyone in the world who would it be?”]] * [[“What time period would you live in?”]] * [[“Do you believe in love?”]] * [[“What is your favourite thing in the world to do?”]] </h3>

<h3>When you make eye contact Imre looks as if he's waiting for you to continue. You clear your throat and say, “that year she got sick so she didn't want to go out. We stayed in and watched so many cheesy horror movies. Gorged ourselves with candy and chips and pop until we passed out. It felt... normal.” Imre gives you a sad smile. “What?” you ask. “It's so simple. I don't mean that to offend. It's just it's a regular night that every kid had with their best friend and for you it's the greatest memory you have of your childhood. You don't have many good moments from then, do you?” he asks, giving you that look of utter pity that you've seen before. You grimace, “look you asked me a question I answered it. I'm sorry it's not satisfactory to you just didn't know I'd be graded.” Imre lays his hand on your arm, “hey, listen. Simple doesn't always mean bad. Ok?” You nod and he moves his hand away. <hr>\ * [[“If you could be anyone in the world who would it be?”]] * [[“What time period would you live in?”]] * [[“Do you believe in love?”]] * [[“What is your favourite thing in the world to do?”]] </h3>

<h3>You look at him and he mouths to you, 'go on.' You clear your throat and say, “it was a strange day. Strange because my dad didn't have to work and my mother had laid off whatever she takes. That year we were well of financially for I think the last time so the house was decorated really nice. There was no fighting. We acted like a real family for just that once.” Imre has a strange look on his face. “What?” you ask. “I hope you don't think I feel pity for you as I would a stray dog but I do think every child should have Christmases like that and I am truly sorry that you never did except for once,” he says with such conviction that you look away. You bite your lip, and think of what to say to such a... kind understanding of your situation. Imre lays his hand on your arm, “do you want to ask me something now?” You nod and he moves his hand away. <hr>\ * [[“If you could be anyone in the world who would it be?”]] * [[“What time period would you live in?”]] * [[“Do you believe in love?”]] * [[“What is your favourite thing in the world to do?”]] </h3>

<h3>He blinks, “pardon?” You nod, “yeah, I don't have one.” His confusion deepens, “more than a decade of childhood and you don't have one single memory that you love so much?” You shrug, “uh no.” You turn in your seat to really look at him and his confusion makes you confused. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Imre opens his mouth, what he means to say ready on his tongue but he closes it and shakes his head. “Nothing, let's move on to your question.” “Ok,” you say. //Weirdo//. <hr>\ * [[“If you could be anyone in the world who would it be?”]] * [[“What time period would you live in?”]] * [[“Do you believe in love?”]] * [[“What is your favourite thing in the world to do?”]] </h3>

<h3>“It can be dead or alive,” you add. Imre puts his finger to chin, “hmmm. I have so many heroes. I would need to break it down into categories like science, music, literature and history and then from there who do I like based off achievements and personality.” You wait. He looks at you and replies, “me.” You squint, “you want to be yourself?” He smiles, “oh yes. I have great fun being myself.” “Right,” you respond. Imre checks his watch, “we should probably go meet Lorcan.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>“We can set aside the sexism, racism and other awful stuff,” you say. Imre rubs his chin, “there is just so many great places. There's the Tang Dynasty, the Imperial Roman period, Babylon, the fall of Constantinople, the lost generation in Paris during the 20s, Hollywood during the 1930s.” You watch, amused to see how seriously he considers this question. He looks to you and says, “the Classical Greek period, preferably when Socrates was alive.” You smile, “good choice.” He grins, “how could it not be?” Imre checks his watch, “we should probably go meet Lorcan.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>Imre looks surprised. You're a bit surprised too, that is a more serious question. Imre cups his chin and look ahead, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment and he turns to you and says, “I've never felt it.” You nod in understanding, “yeah. Me neither.” “I guess that doesn't exclude believing in it but I have a hard time believing in things I can't see,” he says gently. You're not better off either. You've never seen two people in love. You both sit in silence until Imre checks his watch. “We should probably get going.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>He leans back in his seat and grins, “I love to do so many things $name, the world is such full of possibilites.” You smile, “I get what you mean. I got it late but lately I see how big the world is and how much things you can do all by yourself.” He crosses his arms and says, “it really is a tie between reading and writing. To me they're almost one and the same. I couldn't live without them. You?” <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>\ You think and reply, “I like making paper flowers. It's something I learned in the hospital.” Imre tilts his head and asks, “do you make all kinds?” You nod, “I'm pretty good actually.” “I'm glad,” he replies. <<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>\ You think and reply, “I excercise. Not hardcore or anything but I do basics, something I picked up from the hospital.” Imre tilts his head and asks, “does the burn feel good?” You nod, “yeah it centers me.” “That's good,” he replies. <<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>\ You think and reply, “I read too. Probably not what you read. The hospital didn't have a lot but the few they did helped me escape.” Imre tilts his head and asks, “makes you feel like you're living different lives, doesn't it?” You nod, “I can be anyone.” “Exactly,” he replies. <<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>\ You think and reply, “I draw things. I'm by no means a Picasso and I'm not looking to make big thing out of it but I have fun.” Imre tilts his head and asks, “could you ever draw me?” You grin, “I don't know. Maybe.” “Hopefully,” he replies. <<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>\ You think and reply, “I write like you. Well, not //like// you but I do write things. Mostly for vocab.” Imre tilts his head and asks, “have you ever thought of writing seriously? Like a story?” You shake your head, “right now it's really only for me.” “I get it,” he replies. <</if>> Imre lifts his wrist to his face and says, “as much as I hate to cut some fun short, Lorcan is probably waiting for us.” [[NEXT->Imre-Candace12]] </h3>

<h3>“This family is probably running on a very short fuse so...,” you trail off. Imre assents, a grin on his face. Like giving candy to a kid. After a minute passes and no one answers he hits the doorbell and knocks. You strain your ears to hear if any footsteps are coming towards the door. Imre leans closer to the glass and squints, “I don't see— wait, someone's coming.” You two take a step back as the door opens. A man you can only describe as haggard stands taller than both of you. He wears a green flannel shirt overtop a white shirt and blue jeans. His feet are in brown scuffed boats. His black hair with strands of gray hang limply past his shoulders. A five o'clock shadow lies below two deep set eyes aren't red but are swollen. “Just leave the flowers on the porch, please,” his gruff voice instructs. He steps back and lays a hand on the knob. “Mr. Palmer,” Imre says and lays a hand on the doorframe. “We offer our condolences but we're also here to talk about Samuel.” His posture is relaxed, open and despite the fact that he's currently refusing to let Joshua close the door, Imre looks unthreatening. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want reporters to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected. Take your girl and leave.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want reporters to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected. You and your friend need to leave.”<</if>> You cross your arms and chime in the lighest tone you can, “no offence sir, but do we look old enough to work for the paper?” Joshua's doesn't smile. “Who are you and why do you think you can come here and bother us about our boy?” Imre quirks his eyebrows at you. You silently try to communicate what kind of relationship you should invent for this scenario. Imre doesn't reply to your look and says... <hr>\ * [[“We're lovers.”|Sammy-Imre6*][$fakedatingIS to true]] * [[“We're friends.”|Sammy-Imre6*]] </h3>

<h3>Joshua's eyes darken, his mouth presses tightly together. “Listen, I don't want to yell at some kids today but right now is really not the time for me nor my family to be answering any questions,” he tries to close the door again. “Dad?” a female voice says from inside the house. He moves aside as a young girl walks up to you. She seems to be around fifteen with similar hair colouring as her father, although her's is up in a ponytail. “Amanda,” Imre greets her. She beams. “Hi Imre, and... you're $name right?” “Yeah,” you say awkwardly as you look to Imre for an explanation. “Amanda is on the student council,” he explains. Amanda puts a hand on her dad's shoulder and entreats, “can they come in dad? I'm sure they'll be respectful.” Joshua just turns around and goes into the house without a word. Amanda watches him leave for a moment and blinks rapidly. “Come in guys,” she insists. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Ladies first,” Imre waves you in.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre goes and you follow.<</if>> The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. You follow Amanda through a short hall into the kitchen. Gray light shines of the table but even so the light's on. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who sits at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. Imre pulls down a chair and sits down next to her. “Christina?” he says softly. <<if $fakedatingIS >>You sit down next to Imre, directly across from Christina.<<elseif not $fakedatingIS>>You lean against the sink, directly in Imre's line of sight.<</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre7*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingIS >>\ Christina's eyes are so pinned to the photo of her soon you know that you'll have no luck in getting eye contact. Your eyes roam over her red, trembling face. She makes you think of a Jack-in-the-box, winding, winding, winding. Imre picks up a picture and holds it like Christina is holding it. “He was very adorable,” he says with a smile. It's like someone slapped her. She slowly sets down the picture and hands it to Imre, “from the moment he was born I knew he was going to be beautiful all his life.” Imre studies the new picture, running his thumb along the bottom. He genuinely looks like staring at Sammy's picture is a grave thing. A furrow in between his brows. Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. Imre sets that one down and hands another picture that was near teetering off the table to Christina. Her fingers dig into the glossy material. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Mrs. Palmer, I know you are in no mood to answer questions from strangers about your son and I know feel like a downright scoundrel for even knocking on your door but my girlfriend is here on a mission to console another child not unlike your son,” Imre explains.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mrs. Palmer, I know you are in no mood to answer questions from strangers about your son and I know feel like a downright scoundrel for even knocking on your door but my boyfriend is here on a mission to console another child not unlike your son,” Imre explains.<</if>> Drops of codeine into a unsuspecting mouth. He reaches for your hand and you cede. His warm palm rubs against yours, his fingertips press momentarily down on yours and he curls them. It's rougher than it probably looks to Joshua and Amanda, you'll fingers will ache eventually but the shot of adrenaline coursing throughout your arm acts like a balm against any care except this. “He had such small little toes once, I would press them to my nose and it would smell like flower petals,” she intones, eyes unfocused but on Imre. “He was a good boy, wasn't he?” Imre offers. She looks at your intertwined hands, and directs her question to you, “do you care about my son?” <hr>\ * [[Say something compassionate.|Sammy-Imre8*][$compassion to true]] * [[Say something funny.|Sammy-Imre8*][$funny to true]] * [[Tell the truth.|Sammy-Imre8*][$truth to true]] <<elseif not $fakedatingIS>> Christina's eyes are so pinned to the photo of her soon you know that you'll have no luck in catching her eye if she does look your way. From where you are you only see the side of her face but from that you see how red, trembling face it is. She makes you think of a Jack-in-the-box, winding, winding, winding. Imre picks up a picture and holds it like Christina is holding it. “He was very adorable,” he says with a smile. It's like someone slapped her. She slowly sets down the picture and hands it to Imre, “from the moment he was born I knew he was going to be beautiful all his life.” Imre studies the new picture, running his thumb along the bottom. He genuinely looks like staring at Sammy's picture is a grave thing. A furrow in between his brows. Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. Imre sets that one day and hands another picture that was near teetering off the table to Christina. Her fingers dig into the glossy material. “Mrs. Palmer, I don't claim to know much about your son but I crossed paths with him today while they were taking him away, me and friend,” his eyes flash to you. “To see a child like that will haunt our memories for a while and we came here to know your son not as he was at the end but as he was with you.” Drops of codeine into a unsuspecting mouth. “He had such small little toes once, I would press them to my nose and it would smell like flower petals,” she intones, eyes unfocused but on Imre. “He was a good boy, wasn't he?” Imre offers. She looks at your intertwined hands, and directs her question to you, “do you care about my son?” <hr>\ * [[Say something compassionate.|Sammy-Imre8*][$compassion to true]] * [[Say something funny.|Sammy-Imre8*][$funny to true]] * [[Tell the truth.|Sammy-Imre8*][$truth to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $compassion>>\ “Of course we care,” you insist, leaning forward. Christina's eyes become clearer, “when is my son's birthday?” You look to Imre who looks up at the ceiling, not out of shame but to try not to roll his eyes. He probably thinks he shouldn't of let you talk at all. You didn't even want to which is why you told him to take the lead. “Mrs. Palmer I don't—“ “What is his favourite show in all the world?” You grit your teeth, “when I said we care I didn't mean that I knew—“ “What does he want to be when he grows up?” The fingers on your right hand stiffen and your fingernails scratch on your pant leg. “I don't know,” you say between pressed teeth. <<set $pond to true>> “You don't know,” she echoes, as if this was always going to be the outcome. //It was.// There's a terse silence between you two, Joshua seems to be debating whether to step forward and Imre looks from you to her, unemotional and unwilling to step in. “They all say 'we're sorry for your loss' because that's what they're supposed to say. Those are words are nothing! They don't know anything and they don't care! Like you! You! You only come here because you want something! The latest scandal to gossip about with your fucking friends!“ she screams, shooting up from her seat. Amanda goes to her, laying a small hand on her shoulder, “mom maybe—“ She's breathing heavily, her body shaking with rage. “Who tells me that you didn't kill him! That's why you're here! To gloat! To rub it in my face that my baby's dead!“ Joshua tries to grab Christina's hand but she slaps his hand away. She rolls her shoulder and Amanda's hand slides off defeated. “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!“ she screeches, spit flying from her mouth. The Jack-in-the-box has sprung. <<if $fakedatingIS>>Imre pushes his seat back and with his hand still in yours he leads you away from the woman who's screams turn to wails that follow you as you shut the door behind you.<<elseif not $fakedatingIS>>Imre pushes his seat back and shoots you a look which makes your feet move to follow him out of the house while Christina's screams turn to wails.<</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9*]] <<elseif $funny>>\ “As much as that guy who got his dick caught off cared about his,” you say with a smile. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Imre looks at you like you've gone insane. Shaking his head, “dear God.” He holds up his hands in a peace gesture and tries to fix what you've done by saying with a repentive voice, “she didn't mean that. What she meant is that she does care, and so do I. She just has trouble articulating her sentences.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre looks at you like you've gone insane. Shaking his head, “dear God.” He holds up his hands in a peace gesture and tries to fix what you've done by saying with a repentive voice, “he didn't mean that. What she meant is that he does care, and so do I. He just has trouble articulating his sentences.”<</if>> Christina sniffs and looks you in the eyes. Oh shit. It felt clever in the moment. Gallows' humor and all that. What the hell were you thinking?! This is why Imre is the speaker not you, you should've pretened you're mute. A litany of apologies are on the tip of your tongue. And she laughs. Well not //laugh// laugh but a stream of air comes out of her mouth. It has more pain in it than humor but it's there. Imre stops talking. She blinks and looks down at her pictures. “These kids are going missing. I knew. Everyone knows. I heard they need it. I just didn't...,” she cries, “it's awful but I didn't care because I didn't think it would happen to me.” You give her a solemn nod, “that's ok. When something's been going on for so long whether you like it or not you adapt.” She shakes her head, her eyes brimming with new sets of tears. She says to you, “I don't really know anything. I can't tell you more than the papers. He was so stubborn. He didn't like having a curfew.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she goes you one last look before entering the hall. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9]] <<elseif $truth>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I care about him as much as you can care about a kid who was too young to die Mrs. Palmer. My sorrow is in no way comparable to yours. I'm just—,” you sigh heavily, “I'm just a girl who's too curious for her own good.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I care about him as much as you can care about a kid who was too young to die Mrs. Palmer. My sorrow is in no way comparable to yours. I'm just—,” you sigh heavily, “I'm just a boy who's too curious for his own good.”<</if>> Imre's jaw tenses to show his displeasure. His eyes hold nothing in them but you know he believes you should've put some glitter on your story. Which is why he should've answered, he should've interrupted you, no one would've cared because he's charming and he's sympathetic and he never puts his foot in his mouth. But what he thinks doesn't matter, you were the one that was asked and you felt this was the right choice. Christina breathes in, her nose sounding with all the snot she has stored up. Her nail traces Sammy's face. “These kids are going missing. I knew. Everyone knows. I heard they need it. I just didn't...,” she cries, “it's awful but I didn't care because I didn't think it would happen to me.” You give her a solemn nod, “that's ok. When something's been going on for so long whether you like it or not you adapt.” She shakes her head, her eyes brimming with new sets of tears. She says to you, “I don't really know anything. I can't tell you more than the papers. He was so stubborn. He didn't like having a curfew.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She looks at you with a such a deep naked look of understanding that it makes you squirm, “thank you for being honest, it's a good thing to be.” She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she goes you one last look before entering the hall. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre9]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>After you left the house, you immediately left the street. Imre not telling you where you were headed. He takes a narrow dirt path through the woods. You've lived her all your life and still this town surprises you. It seems like it grows and recedes at it's own will. “You aren't taking me out here to kill me right?” you ask, half-joking. With a grave expression, Imre responds, “if I tell you I'd have to kill you.” You wince, “uff.” <<set $pond to true>> Imre's serious mask cracks and he replies with a laugh, “bad huh?” You make a 'so-so' movement with your hand, “it won't send you to pun prison but you are a primary suspect.” Imre snorts and acknowledges, “since I'm always with an adoring crowd I have let my skills rust. Being with you helps, I'm practicing.” You snort, “sure. Are we close at least?” Imre turns the wheel, “very. So close I could dive the car in.” You sit up and see the reflection of trees, upside down. Imre turns off the car and takes off his seatbelt. At your questioning look he responds with a shrug, “don't tell me you've never seen a pond.” You unbuckle yourself and open the door, “obviously but I didn't think this town had any.” Imre walks to the edge and looks along it. It's small and fairly shallow. The water is brown but not from pollution. In the water there floats no dead insects, plastic bottles and dead leaves. Lilypads move lazily along the surface. Imre looks over his shoulder at you, your leg still in the car, holding onto the open door and the hood. “Come, we aren't swimming.” You close the door and as you walk towards him he slips off his shoes. He lays them neatly away from the water. He sits down on the grass and strips off his socks. He folds these and puts them in his shoes. He rolls up his trousers and his pale toes dip into the water. He looks up at you with an expectant expression. You sit down beside him...<<cycle '$pond' autoselect>><<option 'crossed-legged.'>><<option 'baring your feet and dipping them into the pond.'>><</cycle>> Imre smiles at the pond, his feet moving slowly beneath its surface. You two sit in silence for a while, the wind rustling the fallen leaves and make ripples in the water. Imre splashes water in front of him from time to time. You pluck a blade of grass between your fingers and rub. You say, “that was a bust.” Imre assents, “most things take time. Although this pond is a nice consolation gift.” The blade sticks to your skin, “what would've been your plan?” Imre had closed his eyes, he opens one and asks, “for what exactly?” You let the blade go, “if they asked us why both of us were there asking questions. Not the truth?” Imre scoffs, “God no.” <<set $pond to true>> “Then?” He grins... “<<cycle '$pondQ' autoselect>><<option 'I would have said we were lovers.'>><<option 'I would have said we were friends.'>><</cycle>>“ [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre10*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pondQ is 'I would have said we were lovers.'>>\ “What?” you choke out. Noticing your reaction Imre begins to smile, “I would've said that me and you were dating, and I would've //showed// them that.” The emphasis is not lost on you. You look away and concentrate on the pond. You can feel his eyes on you, roaming parts of your body. <<if $pond is 'crossed-legged.'>>You grip your ankles, feeling incredibly exposed.<<elseif $pond is 'baring your feet and dipping them into the pond.'>>You move your feet under the water, your toes clenching.<</if>> “Do you want to see how I would've convinced them?” he says. You don't answer, your eyes lasering in on a floating lilypad. You see him shift closer, his leg brushing yours. You flinch. He lays a hand on your thigh and gently squeezes. You gasp. You can't think. You want him to stop touching you you want him to touch you everywhere. “Then I would've...,” he trails off as his hand travels up your leg, his fingers grazing your arm, sliding along your shoulder and cupping your cheek. “Imre,” you whisper. You feel his breath on your cheek, it smells of peppermint. You can almost feel his mouth on you. “Imre,” you plead. You don't look, you don't want to see the look on his face. “Please,” you beg. Please for what? His thumb inches towards your lips. You're going to scream. What is this feeling? <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Nena,” he says softly.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Nene,” he says softly.<</if>> You'll let him do anything. You let him touch you. His hand can go anywhere, along your chest, down your legs in between— He moves away, “shit.” As if the spell has broken turn to see him checking his watch. His brow is furrowed. “We have to go meet Lorcan.” You don't say anything. Imre puts on his socks, then his shoes and gets up. “Coming?” he asks as he walks away. Rubbing your face you respond, “yeah.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre12]] <<elseif $pondQ is 'I would have said we were friends.'>>\ You roll your eyes. “You think anyone would have bought that?” Imre shrugs, “yes. Is it really that hard to believe?” You pick up a rock and throw it in the pond. The 'plop' sound it makes creates a smile on your face. Imre picks up a rock and swerves it so it skips thrice before sinking into the water. You offer him an impressed look and try to skip it yourself. You end up throwing it to the other side of the pond. Imre chuckles, “it's all in the wrist. You're not trying to whip it, you want it to bounce.” He picks up another stone and shows you the back and forth movement of his own wrist. He flicks his wrist and the stone touches the surface and jumps four more times. You pick up another stone, something small and practice flicking your wrist. You throw it and it lands with a splash that coats your face. Imre laughs and you wipe your cheeks, “ugh.” “It takes some time,” he insists. “Or you're just infuriatingly good at everything,” you claim with a grimace. “Yeah that too,” he says smugly. He checks his watch and says, “we should probably get going. The days seem to be ending quicker and quicker now that the weather is getting colder.” You both get up and walk back to the car. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre12]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingIS>>\ You sigh and untangle your hand from Imre's. You see a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “No actually, that was just a bullshit story we made up to get us both in.” Amanda smiles, “it kind of sucked though, you didn't need to make up anything. My parents aren't really there right now.” You snort, “yeah. Well we figured it would be better to barge in with a close connection to your brother instead of saying we didn't know him and we're looking into this for amateur sleuthing.” Imre closes his eyes, very obviously. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“If you guys were dating it would have been like totally the biggest drama in school,” Amanda giggles. “You'd be like the luckiest girl,” she says and then nervously laughs when she looks at Imre.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“If you guys were dating it would have been like totally the biggest drama in school,” Amanda giggles. “Two guys, dating? So chic, like New York.”<</if>> You assent. Yes, that would never happen. As if Imre would ever look at you when he has other options and it's not like you want him either so...you rub the back of your neck. <<elseif not $fakedatingIS>>\ You sigh and untangle your hand from Imre's. You see a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “No actually, that was just a bullshit story we made up to get us both in.” Amanda smiles, “it kind of sucked though, you didn't need to make up anything. My parents aren't really there right now.” You snort, “yeah. Well we figured it would be better to barge in with a close connection to your brother instead of saying we didn't know him and we're looking into this for amateur sleuthing.” Imre closes his eyes, very obviously. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I knew girls and guys couldn't be friends,” she says triumphantly. You've wouldn't know. But even if they could, Imre Duran and you couldn't ever really be friends like he's friends with his group. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “It makes sense if you were friends though cause you were friends with Nia Mir,” she says. And look how that turned out. Even if you wanted to be friends with Imre, it would never really work with your current issues with Nia. <</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $sbtwo>>\ You move your tea around and ask as casually as you can, “did your brother have a special mark on him?” Amanda dips a cookie into her tea, “a mark?” “Yeah, I know the state of his body wasn't the best but this mark would be distinct. It would look intentional and precise. Clean. A strange symbol somewhere around his torso?” Amanda bites into her cookie and ponders, “my dad did say that he thinks maybe it was satanists. He didn't say anything more but maybe it was because of that mark?” Imre sips his tea, lost in thought. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>\ “If don't know if this helps at all but my dad said he thinks satanists might've done this,” Amanda admits, dipping her cookie into her tea. Imre smirks but you pay him no mind. You ask, “why do you think he thinks that?” Amanda bites into her cookie and replies, “I don't know. He said something about some weird lines on my brother's stomach? Satanic symbols maybe.” Imre scoffs into his tea and you move the teabag around. <</if>> Amanda wipes the crumbs off her lips and tells you directly, “I don't know what you're doing but you care enough about Sammy to be here asking stuff. Promise me you'll find out what happened to him.” “Amanda—“ “Promise me, $name.” <hr>\ * [[“I promise.”|Sammy-Imre11][$promise to true]] * [[“I can't do that.”|Sammy-Imre11*]] </h3>

<h3>You watched as the kid who owns the arcade turned the blinking 'OPEN' lights off. No one knows exactly how a child got to own a business but no asked either. <<if $stay && $sbtwo >>\ “There was something Sammy's sister said in between her rambles. About satanists due to a possible mark on the child's body, do you think it could be the same one you saw on Stephanie's body?” Imre asks you. You ponder and reply, “uh, maybe. The thing is I never saw the mark completely. Her torso was ripped apart.” <<elseif not $sbtwo>>“There was something Sammy's sister said in between her rambles. About satanists due to a possible mark on the child's body, do you think the girls had it to?” Imre asks you. You sigh and say, “could be. I didn't have time to see Stephanie's body and much less Candace's.” <</if>>\ <<if $pond>>\ “So let me get this straight... you two got nothing? You two went to a pond and frolicked?” Lorcan asks with confusion. Imre is leaning on his face, his hands in his pockets. “Frolicking is reserved for meadows dear Lorcan. We merely enjoyed the water.” Lorcan scoffs, “and they say I'm useless.” “Anyway, what's you read on Daryl? Is he a suspect?” you ask. Lorcan grimaces, “the only thing he's guilty of is liking young girls. Which is like super gross but doesn't make him our guy.” Imre rubs his chin, “well from my connections around the station I know that Stephanie's death was ruled an accident, that makes no sense. It seems convenient. I would wager there's a possible conspiracy going on here.” You're a bit surprised and annoyed Imre didn't tell you that before. <<elseif not $pond>> “Well Daryl wasn't any good fucking help, I got nothing,” Lorcan admits. “Do you think he could've killed her?” Imre inquires. He shakes his head, “nope, if there's one thing that guy loves is working at Alice's to get free drinks after, he never misses a shift.” Imre rubs his chin, “at least from what I got from the Palmer's, they loved their son. They're not apart of the cruelty other parents have. The Palmer's were told that they might rule Sammy's death an accident so that means a conspiracy might be afoot.” You look at Imre, there something wrong about that sentence but you can't put your finger on it. Or maybe you're memory is faulty, wouldn't be the first time. <</if>>\ “The police are involved, shocker,” Lorcan says sarcastically. “We need to know more,” Imre attests. “This pile of two girls is too small, if this has been going on for as long as we think we need to go back.” Lorcan, still scratching at the table suggests, “maybe old asshole Crown has something we can use.” Imre looks to Lorcan, intrigued. You look to Lorcan and he says, “your dad, duh.” You purse your lips, “hmmm. He might have some stuff in the attic. He was always boasting about our family legacy, if we're looking at the town's history that would be a good place to start.” Imre starts putting the notebooks and missing posters in his satchel, “let's not waste time then.”<<audio "investigation" stop>> [[NEXT->Page 278C]] </h3>

<h3>You look down at your hands and say, “I'm sorry Amanda but I can't do that.” //Another person you disappointment.// Amanda's shoulders slump and she grabs another cookie. The three of you finish the tea in silence, Amanda mostly eats the cookies while Imre tries one and makes a face and you don't feel that hungry. As the sun begins lowering to the horizon, Amanda guides you to the door. You three all watch each other at the door. You awkwardly wave, “see you around Amanda.” She nods stiffly, “yeah thanks for the company I guess.” Imre holds out his hand and Amanda takes it, her bashful face glowing in the dying sun. “I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting.” She giggles and then clears her throat, “yeah totally Imre.” He grins and you lead the way to the car. <<if $fakedatingIS >> Imre's hand travels to your waist and he only lets go when you split up.<<elseif not $fakedating>> Buckling your seatbelt, Imre turns on the engine.<</if>> “I'm not much for honesty but I think you did good on not making promises you can't keep,” Imre says. You look at him in disbelief, “I thought the great Imre Duran was on the case, ready to solve it.” Imre guffaws, “I know //I// can solve it.” You stop yourself from sticking out your tongue. As you go meet Lorcan, Imre divulges, “you were convincing there.” <<if $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'she'>>“With pretending to be your girlfriend?”<<elseif $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'he'>>“With pretending to be your boyfriend?”<<elseif not $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'she'>>“With pretending to be your friend?”<<elseif not $fakedatingIS && $pronouns is 'he'>>“With pretending to be your friend?”<</if>> “Yes, it was very believable,” he says with a smirk. <<if $fakedatingIS>>You roll your lips, crossing your arms and saying in a monotone voice, “you were too. Anyone could've sworn that you like me.”<<elseif not $fakedating>>You roll your lips, crossing your arms and saying in a monotone voice, “you were too. Anyone could've sworn that you find me agreeable.”<</if>> <<if $fakedatingIS >>“I guess we're both good actors,” he remarks, tapping on the wheel.<<elseif not $fakedating>>“Agreeable,” he mimics in a mocking tone.<</if>> “Sure,” you say and turn in your seat to give him full view of your back. [[NEXT->Sammy-Imre12]] </h3>

<h3><<if $revengeL>>\ “Hey,” you say. Lorcan grumbles and looks up at you from underneath his blond eyelashes. “Do you wanna get back at those assholes?” you ask, a slow smile crawling on your face. Lorcan raises his head, “how?” You think about that eyesore color of a car. “We could<<cycle '$carL' autoselect>><<option 'slash the tires?'>><<option 'set it on fire?'>><</cycle>>“ Lorcan's eyes flutter and he tilts his head slightly. “What?” you ask. “What about the whole quest Imre has?” he inquiries. You wave that off, “he doesn't scare me.”<<audio "investigation" stop>> He stares at you for another moment before letting go of the handles and turning around to sit back on the bike. “I think I know where those dickheads went.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan3*]] <<elseif not $revengeL>>\ Lorcan rages a bit more, kicking the garbage along the sidewalk. After he throws a glass bottle at a brick wall he comes back to sit on the bike. Lorcan is a quick peddler and in no time you see the street sign from the papers. The neighborhood where they live is one of those simple, unremarkable and some might even call dull places. Picture a neighborhood, sidewalks, square grass lawns with small bikes laid haphazaradly, small porches, bay windows, windchimes, wreaths on the front doors. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “Where the hell...,” Lorcan muses and looks as the passing houses until he sees a mailbox with a white slanted painted that says 'PALMER.' You stick your hand in your pocket. You ripped out the section of the newspaper before you left the Lodge. Lorcan slows down and stops by the curb in front of the house. “They're called Christian and Joshua Palmer,” you say. “Duh, I know that,” Lorcan retorts. You stick the paper back in your pocket and Lorcan waits until you stand up before dragging the bike to the front lawn and unceremoniously letting it drop. You notice a face peeking out from a neighboring house. They aren't looking at you but at the Palmer's house. You look around you and see that there are quite a few people out on their porch or sitting in their living rooms with the windows and blinds open. Even the kids playing jump rope on the sidewalk across the ride keep sneaking glances. //At least they have the decency to not knock on their door//, the word aggressively bounces in your head. //Unlike you.// Lorcan follows you up the steps and onto the porch. You look to him and he says, “I'm not doing the talking here. It was your idea so you do it.” “So you're just going to stand there and brood?” Lorcan crosses his arms and says petulantly, “I don't brood.” You snort and ring the doorbell. You wait thirty seconds before ringing it again. A minute passes and you ring it again a bit more impatient. Lorcan pushes you aside, growling and pounds on the door, “HELLO!?” “Lorcan!“ you scold and pull his arm back. Just as you do the door swings open and there stands a man you can only describe as haggard stands taller than both of you. He wears a green flannel shirt overtop a white shirt and blue jeans. His feet are in brown scuffed boats. His black hair with strands of gray hang limply past his shoulders. A five o'clock shadow lies below two deep set eyes aren't red but are swollen. “Just leave the flowers on the porch, please,” his gruff voice instructs. He steps back and lays a hand on the knob. “Wait!“ you say and place a foot on the door frame. The man — who can be no other than Joshua Palmer — blinks tiredly at you. “We're here to talk about your son.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want a reporter to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected miss.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Joshua's eyes slightly harden, “we don't want a reporter to come here and sniff around, we want our privacy to be respected mister.”<</if>> It's not lost on you that he only refers to you as a reporter. Well, given Lorcan's fashion sense he's more suited to be a guitarist in a metal band. “Hey Mr. Palmer,” Lorcan greets respectfully. You raise your eyebrows as you see Joshua Palmer's eyes flicker with recognition, “you've been at the shop before right?” “Yeah for grandma's beetle.” Joshua hums. The conversation dies there and you think of something to say before he closes the door which by his face is what he wants to do most. <hr>\ * [[Say you're a couple.|Sammy-Lorcan3][$fakedatingLO to true]] * [[Say you're friends.|Sammy-Lorcan3][$friendsLO to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingLO >>\ Lorcan's eyes open so wide they look like they might pop out of his head. “Uh,” he spouts out. His mouth opens and closes and opens and closes and he looks like he's short-circuiting. Joshua's eyes lessen in their intensity at the intrusion and he reverts to his tired countenance. “Lorcan I appreciate you coming by but right now really isn't a good time, come another day.” As he finishes saying a young girl appears behind her father's arm, he moves aside. She looks confused as she sees you but when her eyes slide to Lorcan they turn panicked. “W-what are you doing here?” she stammers out. She's looking at Lorcan but he's still staring at you, his eyes not as surprised but his mouth still hangs open. You reply with a smile, “hi, we're here to talk about your brother.” She blinks and the panic disappears from her eyes. It's replaced by a flash of pain and she swallows, nodding at nothing. She looks to her father. “Dad, just let them in,” she says exhausted. Joshua glances at her for a moment before going into the house. Amanda watches him leave for a moment and blinks rapidly. “Yeah so, come,” she insists. You have to grip Lorcan's arm to lead him inside because he's still dazed from what you said. The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. You whisper in Lorcan's ear, “try to pretend you like me.” You smell hints of vanilla from his hair. Lorcan gives you an incredulous look and snaps his mouth shut. “I am not kissing you,” he replies furiously. “You don't have to kiss me just pretend I don't repulse you Lorcan,” you bicker. “Hard to do,” he argues, his voice getting louder. “Shut—“ you stop yourself as you round the corner and see a woman sitting at the table. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who's at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. You lead Lorcan to the table, you sit down and remove your hand from his arm. He jerks his hand towards your retreating one. It's an awkward thing, he fumbles and he winces but finally you two intertwine fingers. Lorcan avoids looking at you. His hand feels so soft. Gentler than you'd think. They're beautiful. The thought worms into your brain and bite your lip expelling it. “Mrs. Palmer, I'm $name and this is my boyfriend Lorcan. We're here because we want to ask you some questions about your son,” you say to the woman. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan4]] <<elseif $friendsLO >>\ Lorcan starts laughing but covers it up with a series of coughs. Joshua's eyes lessen in their intensity at the intrusion and he reverts to his tired countenance. “Lorcan I appreciate you coming by but right now really isn't a good time, come another day.” As he finishes saying a young girl appears behind her father's arm, he moves aside. She looks confused as she sees you but when her eyes slide to Lorcan they turn panicked. “W-what are you doing here?” she stammers out. You reply with a smile, “hi, we're here to talk about your brother.” She blinks and the panic disappears from her eyes. It's replaced by a flash of pain and she swallows, nodding at nothing. She looks to her father. “Dad, just let them in,” she says exhausted. Joshua glances at her for a moment before going into the house. Amanda watches him leave for a moment and blinks rapidly. “Yeah so, come,” she insists. Lorcan jerks his head for you to go in first. The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. “Try to treat me nice while we're in there,” you suggest in a whisper to Lorcan, as you walk along the hall. “That literally might kill me,” Lorcan snarks. “Dick,” you retort. “Dumbass,” he taunts. “Motherf—“ you clamp your mouth shut as you enter the kitchen. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who's at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. Lorcan moves to the wall nearest the exit and crosses his arms. You sit down slowly at the table, directly across from the woman. “Mrs. Palmer, I'm $name and this is my friend Lorcan. We're here because we want to ask you some questions about your son,” you say to the woman. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan4]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingLO >>\ Christina jerks her head up but not to you. She gasps as if she's been punched in the stomach. “Sammy, baby?” she asks hopefully. Lorcan frowns, “huh?” The momentary reprieve in her sorrow flickers out and her eyes downcast to the pictures. “I thought...,” she trails off. You discreetly grab one picture and turn it right side up. Come to think of it Lorcan and Sammy do have a passing resemblance. You take a peek at Lorcan, the firm press of his lips, the prominent wrinkle between his eyebrows and above all the harshness in his eyes. In truth he looks like no one you've ever seen. Lorcan catches you staring and you look back at Mrs. Palmer. Christina's fingernails dig into the picture as if she wishes she could tear into it and pull her son out. You smile kindly and say, “Mrs. Palmer, do you know why your son was out last night? Is this something usual for him?” Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. She places the picture down on the table, her fingers pressing into it. You sigh internally. You look to Lorcan, feeling your eyes on him he looks back. A plead, the first you've ever made of him enters your eyes. //You can pretend it's not for me.// Lorcan stares at you hard, you expect him to pout and let you drown. He doesn't owe you anyt— <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Hey,” he says to Christina, as gentle or his version of it, as you've ever heard him. At that she does look away from the pictures and gazes at him. “My girl-,” he sighs, “my girlfriend had someone she lost around Sammy's age. She gets what you're feeling. I knew Sammy too, he would be at the shop sometimes.” He glances at Joshua who gives him a smile with his eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Hey,” he says to Christina, as gentle or his version of it, as you've ever heard him. At that she does look away from the pictures and gazes at him. “My boy-,” he sighs, “my boyfriend had someone he lost around Sammy's age. He gets what you're feeling. I knew Sammy too, he would be at the shop sometimes.” He glances at Joshua who gives him a smile with his eyes.<</if>> Christina blinks, something in her eyes opening. You squeeze Lorcan's hand and although there's a slight tremor in it he grips your tighter. “You understand what I feel... yes...,” she seizes Lorcan's wrist and he tries to pull back from shock but she doesn't let go. With a desperate look in her eyes she asks, “your dad killed your mom, didn't he?” Lorcan pales and his hand in yours begins to shake. He tries to pull his wrist away once more but her fingers refuse to budge, “how long did it hurt for? Is this pain forever? I need you! I need you t-to tell me!“ Lorcan winces, a small moan of pain leaving his lips. Joshua strides over to his wife, putting his hands on her shoulders, “honey, let the kid go.” “Tell me if I'm ever going to stop feeling like this!“ she demands, her words coated with tears. Joshua and Amanda are both trying to get Christina to calm down but your focused on Lorcan. <hr>\ * [[You angrily defend him.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend1 to true]] * [[You deflect the conversation.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend2 to true]] * [[You don't say anything.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend3 to true]] <<elseif $friendsLO >>\ Christina jerks her head up but not to you. She gasps as if she's been punched in the stomach. “Sammy, baby?” she asks hopefully. Lorcan frowns, “huh?” The momentary reprieve in her sorrow flickers out and her eyes downcast to the pictures. “I thought...,” she trails off. You discreetly grab one picture and turn it right side up. Come to think of it Lorcan and Sammy do have a passing resemblance. Christina's fingernails dig into the picture as if she wishes she could tear into it and pull her son out. You smile kindly and say, “Mrs. Palmer, do you know why your son was out last night? Is this something usual for him?” Joshua huffs, at you or at her, you don't know. Amanda shifts weight from one foot to the other. A pinched look on her face. She places the picture down on the table, her fingers pressing into it. You sigh internally. You look to Lorcan, feeling your eyes on him he looks back. A plead, the first you've ever made of him enters your eyes. Lorcan rolls his eyes but slides a bit closer to the table. He clears his throat, an uncomfortable expression his face. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Hey,” he says to Christina, as gentle or his version of it, as you've ever heard him. At that she does look away from the pictures and gazes at him. “My fri-,” he sighs, “my friend cares about Sammy like any decent person. She gets what you're feeling. I knew Sammy too, he would be at the shop sometimes.” He glances at Joshua who gives him a smile with his eyes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Hey,” he says to Christina, as gentle or his version of it, as you've ever heard him. At that she does look away from the pictures and gazes at him. “My fri-,” he sighs, “my friend cares about Sammy like any decent person. He gets what you're feeling. I knew Sammy too, he would be at the shop sometimes.” He glances at Joshua who gives him a smile with his eyes.<</if>> Christina blinks, something in her eyes opening. Lorcan steps a little closer, within reach of Christina. “You understand what I feel... yes...,” she seizes Lorcan's wrist and he tries to pull back from shock but she doesn't let go. With a desperate look in her eyes she asks, “your dad killed your mom, didn't he?” Lorcan pales. He tries to pull his wrist away once more but her fingers refuse to budge, “how long did it hurt for? Is this pain forever? I need you! I need you t-to tell me!“ Lorcan winces, a small moan of pain leaving his lips. Joshua strides over to his wife, putting his hands on her shoulders, “honey, let the kid go.” “Tell me if I'm ever going to stop feeling like this!“ she demands, her words coated with tears. Joshua and Amanda are both trying to get Christina to calm down but your focused on Lorcan. <hr>\ * [[You angrily defend him.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend1 to true]] * [[You deflect the conversation.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend2 to true]] * [[You don't say anything.|Sammy-Lorcan5][$defend3 to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingLO && $defend1>>\ On impulse you grab her hand and yank it off of him. Startled she leans back in her chair, her eyes finally seeing you. You get up, your hand still in Lorcan's. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” “Excuse me?” Christina whispers, still confused as if you had been the one to grab her. “Hey, newsflash lady just because you're fucking kid is dead gives no right to ask someone what it was like to have their mother killed by their dead. The fuck is wrong with you?!“ you scold. Lorcan pulls on your hand. Joshua glares at you and rubs his wife's shoulders. “I just want to know when this feeling's going to end,” Christina replies, her voice bogged down by sorrow. “I don't give a shit. That doesn't give you the right to be an asshole!“ you yell. Lorcan tugs on your hand again, “Crowny?” Christina looks stunned. Amanda stands to the side not knowing what to do with herself. “I'm sorry,” she says splutters. Your teeth grind, your nose heavily expelling out air. “Yeah you goddamn sound be.” “Crowny—“ <<set $kickedout to true>> Joshua points to the exit, “my wife won't be disrespected in her own home. Get the hell out!“ “GLADLY!“ you yell and stomp to the hall, dragging Lorcan behind you. You pull him out of the house and grab the handle, slamming the door. Once you see the fading light of day all the anger flies out of you and you feel tired. Putting a hand against the beam you sigh. Lorcan's hand is still in yours and you feel him squeeze, gently, almost hard to notice before he pulls away. You look up from your shoes and see him pulling on his cigarette.<<if $vice is 'smoking'>> You hold out a hand, “can I take a drag?”<<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>> You close your eyes and breathe in and out.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>He takes a quick pull himself and then hands it to you. You inhale deeply, the tobacco entering your nostrils and making your head dizzy. You pass it back to him and you exchange it over and over until Lorcan finally stomps it.<<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>> You calm your exalted self, while Lorcan slowly drags on his cigarette. By the time he stomps it you already feel calmer.<</if>> He rolls his lips and looks at you. You look back, “what?” He opens his mouth and hesitates. He clears his throat and asks, “do you wanna kill some time at the arcade or we can call Imre and go to the meeting spot?” You sigh and decide to... * [[Go to the arcade.->Sammy-Lorcan4*]] * [[Go meet Imre.->Sammy-Lorcan12]] <<elseif $fakedatingLO && $defend2 >>\ Not knowing what to say you swipe all the pictures onto the floor. Christina pauses, looks down and immediately lets go of Lorcan. She falls to her knees and begins furiously picking Sammy's pictures up in handfuls. Joshua crouches down to help and Amanda seems to dispel all the tension from herself. She gives you a quick smile in appreciation. You look at Lorcan and he blinks down at his lap. His eyes look empty, devoid of even anger or grief. His mouth is slightly open. “Hey,” you whisper to him. Lorcan does look up but instead of looking into your eyes he looks at your clasped hands. There's still a tremble to his own, like an electric shock. “Lorcan—“ Christina drops the pictures on the table and slumps back down into her seat. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan's eyes flick to Christina and he says, “the police aren't going to help you. No one is. You want fucking help? Answer my girlfriend's questions since you've been ignoring her this whole time and all she wants to do is help.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Lorcan's eyes flick to Christina and he says, “the police aren't going to help you. No one is. You want fucking help? Answer my boyfriend's questions since you've been ignoring him this whole time and all he wants to do is help.”<</if>> Your heart skips an entire beat as he finishes. You stare dumbfounded at him as he leans back into his seat. His thumbnail flicking yours as if to say 'there.' “How dare you talk to my wife—“ Joshua begins to say but Christina puts a hand up to silence him. Miraculously he does and grumbles as he goes back to his position by the fridge. Christina looks down at Sammy, caressing the smiling face of a child who will never smile again. You think she's about to reenter her weird trance. “I don't know much. I don't know what time he got out of the house. I don't know why he got out. The police won't tell us anything. T-they've 'implied' that maybe they'll declare it an accident and if they do that they hope we 'cooperate,'“ she says with a cruel snark. Lorcan scoffs and shakes his head. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Christina opens her hands. “I swear I don't know anything else and I'm sorry,” she says to Lorcan, “I'm just so mixed up.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she gives Lorcan one last look before crossing behind the wall. Amanda awkwardly stands between the exit and the counters. She looks unsure of what to do. She walks over to the seat her mother was in and plops down. She looks gravely from you to Lorcan and asks, “is that true? Is any of it true? Do you want to find out who did this to my brother? Are you two even dating like...” You and Lorcan exchange glances. <hr>\ * [[You tell the truth.|Sammy-Lorcan6][$truthL to true]] * [[You lie.|Sammy-Lorcan6][$lieL to true]] <<elseif $fakedatingLO && $defend3 >>\ You watch it all go down. Whether this be due to an inability to care for anything that has to do with Lorcan's suffering or just that you don't know what to say, no one knows. “WELL DON'T JUST SIT THERE! PLEASE TELL ME I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!“ she screams in his face, tears spilling from her eyes. Lorcan lets out a strangled gasp and throws your hand off. He uses that hand to pry her claws off and pushes the chair back. “Fuck this,” he says and leaves. “TELL ME!“ she screeches and Joshua has to hold her back from following Lorcan. You hear the front door slam. Christina covers her face with her hands and wails into them. Joshua is whispering reassurances into her ears but she just shakes her head and moans out Sammy's name in between sobs. Amanda stands paralized and only moves when Joshua coaxes Christina up and practically carries her out of the room. Amanda goes to the exit of the kitchen and listens her dad and mom go up the stairs. Once a door somewhere on the second floor closes she goes to the seat her mother was in and places her clasped hands on the table. “Wh—“ “Does Lorcan have weed?” she interrupts. You look confused and she asks again slower as if you had a hearing problem, “does. Lorcan. Have. Weed?” You shake your head and stammer, “I-I don't know. I don't anything about that.” She looks unconvinced, “aren't you dating? Why wouldn't you know?” You shrug, “it has nothing to do with me.” Amanda sighs and looks disillusioned. After a moment she says, “you should probably go. My dad won't want to come down here and see you or Lorcan anywhere near the house.” “But I need to ask—“ you try to say. “Sorry but my mom got really bad and I'll have to go up and make her feel better so yeah...” she says awkwardly. You hum. “Fine.” Amanda leads you to the door, once you step out she gives you an apologetic smile and closes the door. You turn around and almost bump into Lorcan who's smoking by the banister. [[NEXT|Sammy-Lorcan6][$nodefend to true]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $defend1 >>\ On impulse you grab her hand and yank it off of him. Startled she leans back in her chair, her eyes finally seeing you. You get up, pulling Lorcan back by his jacket sleeve. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” “Excuse me?” Christina whispers, still confused as if you had been the one to grab her. “Hey, newsflash lady just because you're fucking kid is dead gives no right to ask someone what it was like to have their mother killed by their dead. The fuck is wrong with you?!“ you scold. Lorcan tugs on your shirt. Joshua glares at you and rubs his wife's shoulders. “I just want to know when this feeling's going to end,” Christina replies, her voice bogged down by sorrow. “I don't give a shit. That doesn't give you the right to be an asshole!“ you yell. Lorcan tugs on your shirt again, “Crowny?” Christina looks stunned. Amanda stands to the side not knowing what to do with herself. “I'm sorry,” she says splutters. Your teeth grind, your nose heavily expelling out air. “Yeah you goddamn sound be.” “Crowny—“ <<set $kickedout to true>> Joshua points to the exit, “my wife won't be disrespected in her own home. Get the hell out!“ “GLADLY!“ you yell and stomp to the hall, Lorcan mumbling something and following behind you. You get out of the house and grab the handle, slamming the door. Once you see the fading light of day all the anger flies out of you and you feel tired. Putting a hand against the beam you sigh. Lorcan doesn't say anything, you just hear his footsteps, slow and undecisive. You look up from your shoes and see him pulling on his cigarette.<<if $vice is 'smoking'>> You hold out a hand, “can I take a drag?”<<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>> You close your eyes and breathe in and out.<</if>> <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>He takes a quick pull himself and then hands it to you. You inhale deeply, the tobacco entering your nostrils and making your head dizzy. You pass it back to him and you exchange it over and over until Lorcan finally stomps it.<<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>> You calm your exalted self, while Lorcan slowly drags on his cigarette. By the time he stomps it you already feel calmer.<</if>> He rolls his lips and looks at you. You look back, “what?” He opens his mouth and hesitates. He clears his throat and asks, “do you wanna kill some time at the arcade or we can call Imre and go to the meeting spot?” You sigh and decide to... * [[Go to the arcade.->Sammy-Lorcan4*]] * [[Go meet Imre.->Sammy-Lorcan12]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $defend2 >>\ Not knowing what to say you swipe all the pictures onto the floor. Christina pauses, looks down and immediately lets go of Lorcan. She falls to her knees and begins furiously picking Sammy's pictures up in handfuls. Joshua crouches down to help and Amanda seems to dispel all the tension from herself. She gives you a quick smile in appreciation. You look at Lorcan and he blinks down at his feet. His eyes look empty, devoid of even anger or grief. His mouth is slightly open. “Hey,” you say in a low voice to him. Lorcan does look up but instead of looking into your eyes he looks at Christina. You thought he'd be angry that's usually his first impulse. This reaction is puzzling. “Lorcan—“ Christina drops the pictures on the table and slumps back down into her seat. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan's eyes flick to Christina and he says, “the police aren't going to help you. No one is. You want fucking help? Answer my friend's questions since you've been ignoring her this whole time and all she wants to do is help.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Lorcan's eyes flick to Christina and he says, “the police aren't going to help you. No one is. You want fucking help? Answer my friend's questions since you've been ignoring him this whole time and all he wants to do is help.”<</if>> You have to stop your mouth from hanging open. He gives you a quick look and goes back to leaning against the wall. “How dare you talk to my wife—“ Joshua begins to say but Christina puts a hand up to silence him. Miraculously he does and grumbles as he goes back to his position by the fridge.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Christina looks down at Sammy, caressing the smiling face of a child who will never smile again. You think she's about to reenter her weird trance. “I don't know much. I don't know what time he got out of the house. I don't know why he got out. The police won't tell us anything. T-they've 'implied' that maybe they'll declare it an accident and if they do that they hope we 'cooperate,'“ she says with a cruel snark. Lorcan scoffs and shakes his head. Christina opens her hands. “I swear I don't know anything else and I'm sorry,” she says to Lorcan, “I'm just so mixed up.” As if on cue, Joshua comes forward and helps her get up. She wipes her runny nose with her hand and they shuffle out of the kitchen, you follow her with your eyes and she gives Lorcan one last look before crossing behind the wall. Amanda awkwardly stands between the exit and the counters. She looks unsure of what to do. She walks over to the seat her mother was in and plops down. She looks gravely from you to Lorcan and asks, “is that true? Is any of it true? Do you want to find out who did this to my brother? Are you two even friends like I thought you hated...” You and Lorcan exchange glances. <hr>\ * [[You tell the truth.|Sammy-Lorcan6][$truthL to true]] * [[You lie.|Sammy-Lorcan6][$lieL to true]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $defend3 >>\ You watch it all go down. Whether this be due to an inability to care for anything that has to do with Lorcan's suffering or just that you don't know what to say, no one knows. “WELL DON'T JUST SIT THERE! PLEASE TELL ME I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!“ she screams in his face, tears spilling from her eyes. Lorcan lets out a strangled gasp. He uses that hand to pry her claws off and pushes the chair back. “Fuck this,” he says and leaves. “TELL ME!“ she screeches and Joshua has to hold her back from following Lorcan. You hear the front door slam. Christina covers her face with her hands and wails into them. Joshua is whispering reassurances into her ears but she just shakes her head and moans out Sammy's name in between sobs. Amanda stands paralized and only moves when Joshua coaxes Christina up and practically carries her out of the room. Amanda goes to the exit of the kitchen and listens her dad and mom go up the stairs. Once a door somewhere on the second floor closes she goes to the seat her mother was in and places her clasped hands on the table. “Wh—“ “Does Lorcan have weed?” she interrupts. You look confused and she asks again slower as if you had a hearing problem, “does. Lorcan. Have. Weed?” You shake your head and stammer, “I-I don't know. I don't anything about that.” She looks unconvinced, “aren't you friends? Why wouldn't you know?” You shrug, “it has nothing to do with me.” Amanda sighs and looks disillusioned. After a moment she says, “you should probably go. My dad won't want to come down here and see you or Lorcan anywhere near the house.” “But I need to ask—“ you try to say. “Sorry but my mom got really bad and I'll have to go up and make her feel better so yeah...” she says awkwardly. You hum. “Fine.” Amanda leads you to the door, once you step out she gives you an apologetic smile and closes the door. You turn around and almost bump into Lorcan who's smoking by the banister. [[NEXT|Sammy-Lorcan6][$nodefend to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingLO && $truthL >>\ “It's not true,” you both say in unison. Lorcan looks at you surprised. You look at him the same way. “Oh!“ Amanda says and both of you look to her. “Then why did you lie?” she asks. You smile apologetically, “sorry. We didn't know what to say or how to be let in together and we thought making something up would get your parents to say something useful to us.” Amanda huffs. “Well it's good it's a lie but it would be so weird for you,” she glances at Lorcan, “and you,” she looks back at you, “to date eachother when Orla dated him.” Lorcan bites his lip hard and drags his hand from yours. “Yeah...,” you say awkwardly. You ignore how cold your hand now feels. He's probably has a sweating problem. Yeah that's it. “And kind of incest like,” she adds. “Yeah....” [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan7]] <<elseif $fakedatingLO && $lieL >>\ “It's not—“ “It's true,” you interrupt loudly. Amanda raises her eyebrows at your discrepancy. Lorcan and you both give eachother stern looks. He told you to talk and that's what you're doing. You smile pleasantly at Amanda, “yeah we are. I know it's a bit weird.” Amanda laughs awkwardly, “totally weird like he dated your sister.” Lorcan looks down, his face shamed and makes to move his hand away from yours but you hold onto to it strongly. “Grief is strange and makes you see things you didn't see before,” you reply, you read the line in a pamphlet at the hospital once. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Amanda just nods, her face entirely confused. She looks at Lorcan and says, “you have good taste in pretty girls.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Amanda just nods, her face entirely confused. She looks at Lorcan and says, “I didn't think you would like guys.”<</if>> Lorcan's eyebrows pinch, he looks like he's in pain. “Yeah.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan7]] <<elseif $fakedatingLO && $nodefend >>\ He whips his head in your direction. Immediately daggers set into his eyes. “Did you get what you wanted asshole?” he spits. You clench your fists, “it's not my fault she reacted like that.” “No!“ he says mockingly, “nothing's ever //your// fault is it?” You take a step closer to him, staring in the eyes with say hotly, “is there something you want to fucking say to me?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You're a fucking lousy girlfriend!“ he snaps.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're a fucking lousy boyfriend!“ he snaps..<</if>> “What?” you ask. He throws his cigarette down, “next time don't trip over yourself to defend your boyfriend!“ With that he stalks down the steps and angrily jerks his bike up and throws his leg over the tube, gripping the handles. He looks up at you, “hurry the fuck up or you're walking.” You stomp down the steps and think of punching him. Instead you sit down on the seat and he doesn't even wait for you to grab on before pedalling off. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan12]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $truthL >>\ “It's not true,” you both say in unison. Lorcan looks at you surprised. You look at him the same way. “Oh!“ Amanda says and both of you look to her. “Then why did you lie?” she asks. You smile apologetically, “sorry. We didn't know what to say or how to be let in together and we thought making something up would get your parents to say something useful to us.” Amanda huffs. “Well it's a weird lie because it's hard to believe that you,” she glances at Lorcan, “and you,” she looks back at you, “would be friends when your sister hated you and he did too.” Lorcan uncrosses and crosses his arms. “Yeah...,” you say awkwardly. “So you hate each other now?,” she asks. “Yeah,” you both reply. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan7]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $lieL >>\ “It's not—“ “It's true,” you interrupt loudly. Amanda raises her eyebrows at your discrepancy. Lorcan and you both give eachother stern looks. He told you to talk and that's what you're doing. You smile pleasantly at Amanda, “yeah we are. I know it's a bit weird.” Amanda laughs awkwardly, “yeah I thought you two hated eachother's guts.” Lorcan looks away, his jaw clenching but not willing to refute your lie. “Grief is strange and makes you see things you didn't see before,” you reply, you read the line in a pamphlet at the hospital once. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Amanda just nods, her face entirely confused. She looks at Lorcan and says, “guys and girls being friends I read in seventeen that that isn't possible.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Amanda just nods, her face entirely confused. She looks at Lorcan and says, “you guys have stuff in common I guess.”<</if>> Lorcan's eyebrows pinch, he looks like he's in pain. “Ok.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan7]] <<elseif $friendsLO && $nodefend >>\ He whips his head in your direction. Immediately daggers set into his eyes. “Did you get what you wanted asshole?” he spits. You clench your fists, “it's not my fault she reacted like that.” “No!“ he says mockingly, “nothing's ever //your// fault is it?” You take a step closer to him, staring in the eyes with say hotly, “is there something you want to fucking say to me?” “You're a fucking lousy friend!“ he snaps. “What?” you ask. He throws his cigarette down, “next time don't trip over yourself to defend your //friend//!“ With that he stalks down the steps and angrily jerks his bike up and throws his leg over the tube, gripping the handles. He looks up at you, “hurry the fuck up or you're walking.” You stomp down the steps and think of punching him. Instead you sit down on the seat and he doesn't even wait for you to grab on before pedalling off. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan12]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“So Lorcan...,” Amanda begins to say, looking to and fro in all directions but his. “Yeah?” “Do you have any...” “What?” he asks, getting impatient. She bites the inside of her cheek and pleads with her eyes. “Do you have any pot?” Lorcan sneaks a glance at you and says, “no.” Amanda stops herself from rolling her eyes and says, “I'm not a little baby ok? I'll pay whatever you want.” “No I don't have any,” he says more forcefully. <<if $fakedatingLO && $truthL >>She turns to you, “hey can you get your fake boyfriend to sell me some? I'm literally good for it.”<<elseif $fakedatingLO && $lieL >>She turns to you, “hey can you get your boyfriend to sell me some? I'm literally good for it.”<<elseif $friendsLO && $truthL >>She turns to you, “hey can you get your fake friend frenemy to sell me some? I'm literally good for it.”<<elseif $friendsLO && $lieL >>She turns to you, “hey can you get your friend slash frenemy to sell me some? I'm literally good for it.”<</if>> “Hey kid!“ Lorcan says and waves in front of her face, “I'm not a fucking ghost. Or a pig. Or a square. But I don't sell to kids.” Amanda pouts, “well Marty told John who told Cindy who told her cousin Sandy that told me that you did.” Lorcan's eyesbrows lower and he insists, “I'm not going to fucking sell to you.” Once again she looks to you for help. If you help, maybe she'll be more receptive to talk but she is only like fifteen, it's understandable why Lorcan wouldn't want to for legal reasons but morally you know he doesn't care. He's definitely lacking in a soul. <hr>\ * [[Tell Lorcan to sell to her.|Sammy-Lorcan8][$dealing to true]] * [[Agree with his stance.|Sammy-Lorcan8]] </h3>

<h3><<if $dealing>>\ You look at Lorcan who looks very close to telling Amanda to fuck off. He feels your eyes on him and raises an eyebrow. You jerk your head to her. “Just give it to her, if it isn't you she'll get it from someone else.” Lorcan's mouth presses into a hard line that turns his lips white. He sticks his hand into his pocket and slams a plastic sandwich bag on the table. You think he'll storm out, cursing you but he just picks up a picture of Sammy, holding it tightly. Amanda snatches the baggie and delicately opens it. She goes to a cupboard above her sink, moving a chair directly under it and standing on it to grab a tinbox. She sits back down, opens the box and pulls out small little papers. She finds you staring and asks, “what?” “What are those?” Amanda responds, “rolling papers. I don't have a bong.” She grinds the weed up with a tiny mortar and pestle she has in the tin and then flattens the rolling paper on the table, pouring the grounded weed in. She licks the joint closed and takes out a lighter from her tinbox. She lights up in the kitchen of her parens' house. In all this time you hadn't noticed that Lorcan hadn't looked away from the picture. His eyes remain glued onto the smiling face looking back at him. To your surprise you see his glassy. He sniffs and his eyes flick to you. He grimaces and wipes his eyes furiously. Setting the picture down. You look at another of the pictures. One where he's swimming in a pool, it was recently made illegal because all pools are evil. But he looks so... small. A tiny person who will never grow up like you. He's frozen in these pictures and in the memories of his loved ones as 7 years old. You feel... <hr>\ * [[Sad.|Sammy-Lorcan9][$sammysad to true]] * [[Mad.|Sammy-Lorcan9][$sammymad to true]] * [[Nothing.|Sammy-Lorcan9][$sammynothing to true]] <<elseif not $dealing>>\ Lorcan practically begs you with his eyes to take his side on this. You've never been in this position before. It's weird times. You look to Amanda, who has a sure smile on her face. “No, actually I think Lorcan's right. It's his weed, he gets to decide who he sells to, not me,” you say resolutely. Amanda's smile drops but you glance at Lorcan who looks flabberghasted that you took his side. The points of his lips threaten to rise but he wipes his mouth and just nods, his eyes full of light. “Ok, then you two get out of my house,” Amanda replies, standing up. You snort, “is weed really that important to you?” “Uh tots,” she pouts. God, fifteen year olds. Amanda wastes not time in throwing you two out of her house. She slams the door in your faces. You turn around and walk down the steps. Imre is not going to be happy. You don't hear any foosteps behind you and you throw a look over your shoulder. Lorcan stands on the porch and is staring at you in an intense way. He's looked at you like this before when he was angry and was moments away from hitting you. “Don't tell me you're pissed,” you state. He shakes his head slowly. His eyebrows pinch and he his mouth moves to and fro. “You aren't going to barf are you?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Then?” you quirk an eyebrow. He bits his lip. He seems to be struggling to say something. He closes his eyes and swears.<<if $fakedatingLO && $pronouns is 'she'>> “You're not half bad a fake girlfriend.”<<elseif $fakedatingLO && $pronouns is 'he'>> “You're not half bad a fake boyfriend.”<<elseif $friendsLO && $pronouns is 'she'>>“You're not half bad a fake friend.”<<elseif $friendsLO && $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're not half bad a fake friend.”<<elseif $friendsLO && $pronouns is 'he'>>“You're not half bad a fake friend.”<</if>> “Do you ears deceive me or was that a compliment from Lorcan Stark?” you jest. He rolls his eyes and comes down from the porch, passing you he says, “and the last you'll ever get.” You snort and follow him. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan12]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sammysad >>\ He's so small. Seven years is too much of a short time to life a live. It hits you in the face how these people you're investigating aren't statistics. They aren't pictures of a time gone by. They're people. They had lives. They deserved to be able to live them. <<elseif $sammymad >>\ It's not fair. You know better than anyone that life rarely is but the fact that he was just a child, innocent of anything and died so brutually makes you want to scream and destory whoever did this. Hopefully you will. <<elseif $sammynothing >>\ You saw how is mother cried, how his father is a void and how Amanda must now be tasked with being the only sane one. You see the kid in how he was life with the pictures... but you don't feel anything. Not even compassion. He was nobody to you. <</if>> Amanda inhales, holds it and blows out a stream of smoke. The atmosphere around you immediately starts to smell like that. It's an unpleasant smell, almost rancid. She taps the ashes on a small coffee cup. She sighs, saying, “no one knows why he went out last night. No one knows why he was killed. Like the police might know but they won't say anything because they're all under the mayor's thumb. That's what my dad says anyway.” “Do you have a guess as to why he could've been out?” you ask. Amanda shakes her head. “I don't know, he was always into monsters, maybe he thought he could 'catch' the thing that was doing this to the girls.” “The girls in town are walking home in twos and threes, we've been doing it since June but now it looks like everyone is at risk,” she states almost absentmindedly. “Do you think it even matters to do that anymore?” <hr>\ * [[“It does.”|Sammy-Lorcan10][$ru to true]] * [[“There's not much you can do.”|Sammy-Lorcan10]] </h3>

<h3><<if $ru >>\ Amanda smiles a bit. <<elseif not $ru>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“For fuck's sake,” Lorcan says to you. He then says to Amanda, “ignore her.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“For fuck's sake,” Lorcan says to you. He then says to Amanda, “ignore him.”<</if>> <</if>> Amanda takes another drag and keeps inside her mouth longer. Once she let's it out her eyes start blinking slower. You feel it's in vein to try and ask her more questions, that is even if you had anymore and you don't. Amanda slides down lower into her chair, her eyes periodically closing for long stretches of time. Soon enough her breathing becomes shallow and she's fallen asleep. <<if $fakedatingLO && $truthL >>\ Lorcan leans over to stamp out her joint. Stretching his arms over his head he says, “let's get the fuck outta here.” <<elseif $fakedatingLO && lieL >>\ Lorcan tries to stamp out her joint but he realizes he has his hand still intertwined with yours. He shakes it off and puts the joint out. The hand that touched yours flexs and he rubs it against his jeans. He says, “let's get the fuck outta here.” <<elseif $friendsLO && $truthL >>\ Lorcan leans over to stamp out her joint. Stretching his arms over his head he says, “let's get the fuck outta here.” <<elseif $fakedatingLO && $lieL >>\ Lorcan leans over to stamp out her joint. Stretching his arms over his head he says, “let's get the fuck outta here.” <</if>> Nodding, you get up slowly. As he turns his back to you, you see one lone picture on the floor. Sammy. He's dressed as a ghost. You decide to... <<cycle '$sammypic' autoselect>><<option 'take it.'>><<option 'leave it on the table.'>><</cycle>> You two quietly walk throughout the house. Shutting the front door slowly behind you, you see Lorcan facing the door. A pensive look on his face. Your about to ask if you have anything on your face when he says, “I want to get them some flowers.” “O..kay,” you respond. On his bike you go to the florist shop conducted at the house of one Mrs. Pepper. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan goes up and down the available collection and the wrinkle in between his eyebrows grows more prominent. In front of some tulips, he loses it. “YOU PICK ONE!“ he commands and goes back to the bike. <hr>\ * [[The tulips.|Sammy-Lorcan11][$tulips to true]] * [[The lilies.|Sammy-Lorcan11][$lilies to true]] * [[The pink carnations.|Sammy-Lorcan11][$carnations to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tulips >>\ You hand a few over to Mrs. Pepper who happily binds them. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You've created some before, with your paper. Tulips mean love, any kind of love and that's appriopriate.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>The little note on the pot says that tulips mean love of all kinds and that seems right.<</if>> <<elseif $lilies >>\ You hand a few over to Mrs. Pepper who happily binds them. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You've created some before, with your paper. Lilies are the spirits of loved ones. Comforting perhaps.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>The little note on the pot says that lilies mean the spirit of a loved one and for grief that might be good.<</if>> <<elseif $carnations >>\ You hand a few over to Mrs. Pepper who happily binds them. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You've created some before, with your paper. Pink carnations encourage thoughts of rememberance. Hopefully it won't overdo it.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>The little note on the pot says that pink carnations are to remember the ones we've lost. It could be good... or bad.<</if>> <</if>> Lorcan raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything about the flowers as you sit behind him. Once you arrive at the Palmer's again, it's night. The neighboring houses have lighted windows. Silhouettes move behind curtains. TV shows blare. Lorcan follows you as you go up the steps and place the flowers down next to the others. You clasp your hands in front of you and you both stand there for a few minutes in silence. “I know it's dumb but like it feels... good to do,” Lorcan says wearily. <<if $callfriendlylorcan >>\ You nod, a smile spreading on your lips. “It's not dumb at all,” you say kindly. Lorcan glances at you, his eyes searching your face in the night to see if you're being insincere. Once he sees no trace of that he looks back at the flowers and quietly whispers, “ok Crowny.” “Let's go ot pretty boy will be ready with his stupid talks,” Lorcan says and you take one long glance at the door to the Palmer's house before walking away. <<elseif $callantaglorcan >>\ You don't respond. Anything you say would be an insult to the Palmer's too and you don't want to shit on a family mourning a dead kid. Anyway it's not like he did something bad. He's more... sensitive than you originally thought. //It's actually one of the things I'm beginning to like about y-“// You let that thought die, wanting to smack yourself. You're just tired and emotionally spent, that's all. It's making you think crazy. “It's dark out and Imre is probably done with his part. Let's go before someone sees us and we're deemed creepers,” you state and walk away from the flowers without a backword glance. Lorcan's footsteps follow. <</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan12]] </h3>

<h3><<if $diffuse >>\ Before Imre can open his mouth you say, “is this really a good use of our time?” Lorcan still has his leg raised but he looks to you. Imre still maintains his eyes on Lorcan. “No it's not but how can I be expected to comport myself when we have a child tagging along and ruining things?” “I'm the fucking child—“ “ENOUGH!“ you snap. Imre's piercing gaze moves to you. His face could almost be mistaken for tranquil if not for his blue eyes. “How the hell are we expected to work together if you two are at it everytime you see eachother? You don't have to like each other, god knows I don't like either of you much of the time but we aren't going to get anywhere if we aren't a team,” you scold. Imre blinks, his expression unchanged. Lorcan lowers his leg, a pouty curve to his lips. You rub your eyes, “can we just put our personal shit aside for like eighty percent of the time? Until this is over.” Lorcan rubs the back of his head and turns towards the window. The sharpness in Imre's eyes lower by degrees. He turns back into his seat and puts the car back in drive. “I could do that,” Imre states. You let out a breath and face forward. As Imre turns into a street full of houses he asks, “what are we going to say to them when we knock?” “Why do we have to say something to them? Like a lie? Just tell them we're looking into all this shit,” Lorcan proposes. Imre shakes his head, “what we're doing is illegal. We don't know the Palmers, they could tell someone and I wouldn't like to face the wrath of the police.” “You're the mayor's son they wouldn't even touch you,” Lorcan scoffs. “What are we going to say?” Imre asks insistently. <hr>\ * [[“We'll say we're dating.”|Sammy-3(3)][$fakedating3 to true]] * [[“We'll say we're partners.”|Sammy-3(3)][$groupwork3 to true]] <<elseif $neutral >>\ “So help me God, Lorcan I will kick you out of this car,” Imre warns. Lorcan laughs, “I fucking dare you!“ You watch as Imre unbuckles his seat belt, steps out of the car, yanks open the back door and grabs Lorcan by the leather lapels of his jacket. “Don't fucking touch me!“ Lorcan yells as Imre attempts to drag him out of the car. Lorcan kicks at Imre's legs. Imre grunts in pain but refuses to let go. Like a bystander watching two drunks go at it at a bar, you watch on without much reaction. Imre pulls Lorcan out from the car and throws him on the ground. Lorcan grabs onto Imre's ankle and as you strain your neck to look it seems he's attempting to bite him. Imre kicks Lorcan in the stomach, who groans but doesn't let go. You wonder if perhaps you could make it to the Palmer's on foot. You could try driving but that would be — A weird sound that feels like the manifestation of a 'quirk' stops your train of thought. You move the front mirror and see the red and blue lights behind driving up, behind the car. The fight has stopped as well, the two opponents looking over at the police officer walking towards them. “Fuck,” you swear and step out of the car. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(3)]] <<elseif $needle >>\ “Imre, he's messing up the investigation,” you say as lamentable as possible, “an entire day wasted because of him.” Imre's teeth clench. Lorcan has his leg up, ready to kick the brown-haired boy in the face. “Of course everyone should get the benefit of the doubt. Lorcan, don't you think Imre should give you a chance to explain your point of view?” you say diplomatically. “There's no need. This one's point of view is rather childish and illogical,” Imre responds. “'Childish and illogical,'“ you repeat, your eyes raised in shock as you look from Imre to Lorcan. Lorcan glares at Imre, his pink cheeks quickly deepening. He sends a kick to Imre's face which he dodges. He unbuckles himself, throws open his door and yanks open Lorcan's. Grabbing Lorcan by the foot, Imre drags him out of the car, the blond boy's head hitting the ground. Lorcan delivers a swift kick to Imre's groin which he moves enough for Lorcan to not get it but he does manage to kick Imre's thigh. Imre delivers a hard kick to Lorcan's ribs. He moans in pain, clutching his side. Breathing heavily, Imre delivers another kick. Lorcan gasps, Imre standing over him with his fists clenched. Lorcan then bites Imre's leg. He hisses and moves back, giving Lorcan perfect time to stand up, holding his stomach. The big smile you have on your face hurts. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. You feel as if you're leaning at the edge of your seat, waiting for either to pounce. God, this is so exhili — A weird sound that feels like the manifestation of a 'quirk' stops your train of thought. You move the front mirror and see the red and blue lights behind driving up, behind the car. The fight has stopped as well, the two opponents looking over at the police officer walking towards them. “Damn it,” you say disappointed and step out of the car. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(3)]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $diffuse && $fakedating3>>\ “And that one of us has a cousin or something that has a younger sibling that was in the same grade as Sammy and we're here as a couple to support them,” you explain. Lorcan laughs out loud, “good one Crowny, I think that's the funniest thing you've ever said.” Imre looks at you for a moment, slowing the car down to a crawl. His eyes see yours and he blinks once, twice and parks the car. Lorcan is still laughing in the background as Imre turns off the engine. “I'm more of a duo monogamist myself but it would be interesting to see the reaction of a trio.” Lorcan's laugh abruptly cuts off. He lurches forward, in the space between the two seats. “Are you two fucking serious?” “Do you have any other ideas?” you ask. Lorcan's eyes widen, “not being a fucking couple that's for sure!“ “Lorcan it's just for show, it won't kill you to pretend to love us for one afternoon,” Imre says, bored. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ Lorcan's mouth drops as you two get out of the car. Imre knocks on his window and Lorcan mechanically opens it and steps out, his face in complete shock. Imre sighs impatiently. “What?” Lorcan slightly closes his mouth and stutters out, “one, I don't like guys especially rich bastards like you,” he says to Imre, “and I like my girls less fucking awful,” he directs that to you. Imre snorts, “if you dislike awful girls, why date Orla?” Lorcan steps a step towards Imre and you get in the middle. “Not here guys,” you advise. Standing with Imre's chest pressed against your back and Lorcan's own chest mere inches from yours you realize you're sandwiched in. Your face feels hot and you slide out from the middle. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Lorcan's mouth drops as you two get out of the car. Imre knocks on his window and Lorcan mechanically opens it and steps out, his face in complete shock. Imre sighs impatiently. “What?” Lorcan slightly closes his mouth and stutters out, “I don't fucking like guys, especially a rich bastard,” he says to Imre, “and a rich crazy psycho bastard,” he says to you. Imre snorts, “you liked rich psycho well enough when it was Orla. Was her reproductive organ so powerful?” Lorcan steps a step towards Imre and you get in the middle. “Not here guys,” you advise. Standing with Imre's chest pressed against your back and Lorcan's own chest mere inches from yours you realize you're sandwiched in. Your face feels hot and you slide out from the middle. “Let's just get in and get out,” you say and walk towards the Palmer's home. You see a group of kids playing hopscotch, they watch attentively until Lorcan makes a face at them and they scatter. <</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-3(4)]] <<elseif $groupwork3 && $diffuse >>\ “A group project about serial killers and the tactics used by the police to catch them,” you explain. Lorcan doesn't look convinced. “I just think if we tell them the truth they won't say anything because they got bigger stuff to worry about.” “And you know this how?” Imre asks. “I go to Joshua's shop sometimes and the kid would be there,” Lorcan confesses. Joshua Palmer, Sammy's father. Imre makes a 'huh' noise. “That doesn't prove anything. That's hardly a connection we can exploit.” “Exploit?” Lorcan asks. Imre gets out of the car and so do you, followed reluctantly by Lorcan. You walk up to the house with the painted 'PALMER' on the mailbox. “Let's just get in and get out,” you say and walk towards the Palmer's home. You see a group of kids playing hopscotch, they watch attentively until Lorcan makes a face at them and they scatter. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(4)]] <<elseif $neutral >>\ The police officer, a man, regards Lorcan with distaste but that quickly changes when he sees Imre. Accentuating his face with a slimey smile he says, “Mr. Duran, we've missed you at the station, the conversation is missing your colorful input.” Imre grins fantasically and holds out his hand, “officer Karras, pleasure seeing you.” Officer Karras shakes his hand and then notices you a few steps away. He barely looks at you before focusing on Lorcan. His smile turns into a scowl. “Lorcan Stark, the boys at the station were wondering when we'd have to deal with again,” he says. Lorcan's eyes bore into officer Karras. “Don't you assholes have other citizens you can beat the shit out of?” Officer Karras puts his hand on his belt, “watch your tone boy. We give repeat offenders less leeway especially ones who blight the good name of this town.” Lorcan laughs, a mocking cold thing. “Yeah because you guys are doing such a good job giving this town 'honor' huh?” Officer Karras takes a step towards Lorcan and Imre clears his throat. A dazzling smile on his face coats his next words, “Officer Karras, forgive my friend. He's just a bit on edge with the recent tragedy. I don't see why we can't just leave things at that. You must be too busy to deal with what was a minor row between two friends.” Lorcan stops glaring at officer Karras, and seems entirely confused as to why Imre is saying these things. Officer Karras doesn't move his hand away from his belt, still looking at Lorcan, he answers Imre, “Imre, you shouldn't be mixing with these types of people. They'll get you into trouble too, mark my words.” Imre laughs goodnaturedly, “I'll keep that in mind. But for the time being, Lorcan, $name and I must be getting somewhere. So if you'll excuse us...” Officer Karras stares Lorcan down. Lorcan, meanwhile, has all the makings of a rebellious teenager about to assault a police officer. You didn't act when they were fighting. You should now as Imre's charisma isn't enough to dispel the prejudice the police has against Lorcan. <hr>\ * [[“Instead of harassing a teenager, actually go do your job.”|Sammy-3(4)*][$policebrutality to true]] * [[“I'm sure we could fix the problem if I called my brother.”|Sammy-3(4)*][$connections to true]] <<elseif $needle>>\ The police officer, a man, regards Lorcan with distate but that quickly changes when he sees Imre. Accentuating his face with a slimey smile he says, “Mr. Duran, we've missed you at the station, the conversation is missing your colorful input.” Imre grins fantasically and holds out his hand, “officer Karras, pleasure seeing you.” Officer Karras shakes his hand and then notices you a few steps away. He barely looks at you before focusing on Lorcan. His smile turns into a scowl. “Lorcan Stark, the boys at the station were wondering when we'd have to deal with again,” he says. Lorcan's eyes bore into officer Karras. “Don't you assholes have other citizens you can beat the shit out of?” Officer Karras puts his hand on his belt, “watch your tone boy. We give repeat offenders less leeway especially ones who blight the good name of this town.” Lorcan laughs, a mocking cold thing. “Yeah because you guys are doing such a good job giving this town 'honor' huh?” Officer Karras takes a step towards Lorcan and Imre clears his throat. A dazzling smile on his face coats his next words, “Officer Karras, forgive my friend. He's just a bit on edge with the recent tragedy. I don't see why we can't just leave things at that. You must be too busy to deal with what was a minor row between two friends.” Lorcan stops glaring at officer Karras, and seems entirely confused as to why Imre is saying these things. Officer Karras doesn't move his hand away from his belt, still looking at Lorcan, he answers Imre, “Imre, you shouldn't be mixing with these types of people. They'll get you into trouble too, mark my words.” Imre laughs goodnaturedly, “I'll keep that in mind. But for the time being, Lorcan, $name and I must be getting somewhere. So if you'll excuse us...” Officer Karras stares Lorcan down. Lorcan, meanwhile, has all the makings of a rebellious teenager about to assault a police officer. You didn't act when they were fighting. You should now as Imre's charisma isn't enough to dispel the prejudice the police has against Lorcan. <hr>\ * [[“Why don't you go and fuck yourself?”|Sammy-3(4)*][$policebrutality2 to true]] * [[“I'm sure we could fix the problem if I called my brother.”|Sammy-3interlude]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“I just think you shouldn't get to just decide shit,” Lorcan complains. You're about to knock but lower your arm and turn to the boys. “Fine, let's play rock, paper, scissors and whoever wins get's to decide what we do.” The three of you form a circle, putting one palm up and the other hand in a fist. “Rock...paper...scissors,” Imre says. <img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width=“10%"><<include “Timer3“>><<set $seconds to 20>> <hr>\ * [[Rock.]] * [[Paper.]] * [[Scissors.]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan cups his eyes and peers into the house by way of the small window on the door. You're about to knock on the door when he says, “a guy's coming.” Lorcan backs up, behind you and Imre. An older man opens the door. His messy hair hangs from his face and spills off his shoulders. He wears a green flannel shirt overtop a white shirt and blue jeans. His feet are in brown scuffed boats. His eyes are deeply sunken and his cheeks are hollow. Calling him worse for wear is an understatement. He looks from Imre to you in a slow way, almost sleepily which wouldn't be that far off given the absolute tiredness seeping off of him. “If you brought flowers, just leave them on the porch with the others,” he says and points a finger to a pile a few feet away under the bay window. Imre, with his hands in trousers, holds a relaxed language with his body. “I am truly sorry for your loss and for disturbing you but we're actually here to possibly talk to either you or your wife?” he adds, “it won't be for long.” The man — Joshua Palmer — looks fatigued as Imre goes on. “Look kids, I don't want to be a dick but you should really get the fuck away from—“ he stops and tilts his head up, “Lorcan?” You and Imre move apart to uncover Lorcan. His expression is sheepish, his hands tucked into his armpits. “Hey Mr. Palmer.” <<if $fakedating3 >>Imre's eye furrow but when Joshua looks back at him the boy smiles. “We're here to accompany our boyfriend in this difficult time.”<<elseif $groupwork3 >>Imre's eye furrow but when Joshua looks back at him the boy smiles. “We're here to accompany our classmate and nascent friend in this difficult time.”<<elseif $groupwork3l >>Imre's eye furrow but when Joshua looks back at him the boy smiles. “We're here to accompany our classmate and nascent friend in this difficult time.”<</if>> Lorcan stares angrily at Imre but Joshua isn't looking. “He heard the news and couldn't do anything today but talk about Sammy but he told us he needed support and that's why we're here,” Imre asserts. “You did?” Joshua asks Lorcan. “I—“ “Of course he did,” Imre interjects. “He just has issues expressing his feelings. It would do him good to talk to you,” Imre implores in a sorrowful voice. Lorcan grinds his teeth together, burning a whole at the back of Imre's neck. Joshua looks confused and he points from you to the others and back.<<if $fakedating3 >> “All three of you are dating? Like a relationship but with three people? Did I get that right?” he asks, a wrinkle to his nose.<<elseif $groupwork3 >> “You guys are friends? Or what? I've never seen either of you with Lorcan before,” Joshua claims.<</if>> Imre is already forming a response but maybe Joshua needs a demonstration. <hr>\ <<if $fakedating3 >>\ * [[Grab the boys' hands.|Sammy-3(6)][$hands3 to true]] * [[You and Imre lean your heads against Lorcan's shoulders.|Sammy-3(6)][$cuddle3 to true]] <<elseif $groupwork3 >>\ * [[Throw your arm around Lorcan's shoulder.|Sammy-3(6)][$hug3 to true]] * [[Mess Lorcan's hair up playfully.|Sammy-3(6)][$hair3 to true]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $hands3 >>\ You grab Lorcan's hands, he tries to jerk away but you intertwine your fingers and hold on tightly. Imre acts quickly and grasps Lorcan's other hand. You smile, “yes that's right. It's um...” “A modern thing. It works swell for us,” Imre elaborates. Lorcan digs his nails into your palm and you bite your tongue from making a noise. If Lorcan is doing the same to Imre, you can't tell. His face is perfectly serene. “We are in love,” you say so mechanically Imre's eye twitches. “Wha...,” Joshua says. Imre gives Lorcan a quick peck on the cheek and lingers, not knowing what else to do you kiss Lorcan's other cheek. Lorcan's teeth under his skin shake. Meanwhile, Joshua looks vaguely uncomfortable and almost alarmed. Actually, he might tell you to fuck off.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> He particularly eyes you, it doesn't speak well of a girl when she's dating two boys.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> He eyes you all, it's odd for a man to see two boys together much less three.<</if>> Before he can clearly say what he wants to say a young girl gently moves her father's arm out of the way. She looks to be around fifteen, you might've seen her at school. She barely glances at either you or Lorcan, her eyes glued to Imre. “Oh hi!“ she says a little too excitedly for someone who just lost her brother. But what do you know about grief? Imre lets go of Lorcan's hand and shakes the girl's. “Amanda, I'm very sorry for your loss.” Amanda smiles sadly and a pink shade begins forming on her cheeks. “Thanks Imre,” she replies. Her eyes land on Lorcan, then you, her smile transforming into confusion. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her eyes remaining on you. “Yes well we were just telling your father that our boyfriend Lorcan knew your brother and was hit very hard with the news of his passing and so we came for emotional support,” Imre explains. Amanda's eyes rise when he says 'boyfriend' but she doesn't comment on it. Placing a hand on her father's arm she tells him, “dad just let them in. I promise Imre and his... “friends“ won't bother mom too much.” Joshua just lets out a breath and retreats into the house. Amanda stays there for a second, looking at her father's retreating figure before turning to you. “Come in guys.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(7)]] <<elseif $cuddle3 >>\ You grab Lorcan's arm, thrust him between you and Imre. “Wh—“ he tries to say but you silence him by laying your head on his bony shoulder. Imre catches on quickly and does the same. Lorcan seizes up, the muscles in his shoulders springing up and bothering your neck due to the odd angle. Imre manages to make it look natural even if he's taller than Lorcan. You smile, “yes that's right. It's um...” “A modern thing. It works swell for us,” Imre elaborates. Lorcan's shoulders feel like stone slabs. His tense isn't helping and he hasn't relaxed a bit. “We are in love,” you say so mechanically Imre's eye twitches. “Wha...,” Joshua says. Imre gives Lorcan a quick peck on the cheek and lingers, not knowing what else to do you kiss Lorcan's other cheek. Lorcan's teeth under his skin shake. Meanwhile, Joshua looks vaguely uncomfortable and almost alarmed. Actually, he might tell you to fuck off.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> He particularly eyes you, it doesn't speak well of a girl when she's dating two boys.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> He eyes you all, it's odd for a man to see two boys together much less three.<</if>> Before he can clearly say what he wants to say a young girl gently moves her father's arm out of the way. She looks to be around fifteen, you might've seen her at school. She barely glances at either you or Lorcan, her eyes glued to Imre. “Oh hi!“ she says a little too excitedly for someone who just lost her brother. But what do you know about grief? Imre leans his head away from Lorcan and shakes the girl's hand. “Amanda, I'm very sorry for your loss.” Amanda smiles sadly and a pink shade begins forming on her cheeks. “Thanks Imre,” she replies. Her eyes land on Lorcan, then you, her smile transforming into confusion. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her eyes remaining on you. “Yes well we were just telling your father that our boyfriend Lorcan knew your brother and was hit very hard with the news of his passing and so we came for emotional support,” Imre explains. Amanda's eyes rise when he says 'boyfriend' but she doesn't comment on it. Placing a hand on her father's arm she tells him, “dad just let them in. I promise Imre and his... “friends“ won't bother mom too much.” Joshua just lets out a breath and retreats into the house. Amanda stays there for a second, looking at her father's retreating figure before turning to you. “Come in guys.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(7)]] <<elseif $hug3 >>\ Your arm jerks up as if possessed and you throw it around Lorcan's shoulders. His first instinct is to move away but Imre, acting fast, throws his arm over yours and Lorcan is effectively caged in between you two. “Lorcan is by a nature a lone wolf but we're trying to get him out of his shell, right Imre?” you ask, grinning wide. Imre squeezes Lorcan's shoulders, “that's exactly right $name.” He says to Joshua, “it's a work-in-progress.” Meanwhile, Joshua looks vaguely uncomfortable and almost alarmed. Actually, he might tell you to fuck off. Three kids, one who looks like he's being held hostage showing up with his door obviously unpracticed story is the last thing he probably wants to deal with. Before he can clearly say what he wants to say a young girl gently moves her father's arm out of the way. She looks to be around fifteen, you might've seen her at school. She barely glances at either you or Lorcan, her eyes glued to Imre. “Oh hi!“ she says a little too excitedly for someone who just lost her brother. But what do you know about grief? Imre slides his arm off of Lorcan's shoulders and shakes the girl's hand. “Amanda, I'm very sorry for your loss.” Amanda smiles sadly and a pink shade begins forming on her cheeks. “Thanks Imre,” she replies. Her eyes land on Lorcan, then you, her smile transforming into confusion. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her eyes remaining on you. “Yes well we were just telling your father that our friend Lorcan knew your brother and was hit very hard with the news of his passing and so we came for emotional support,” Imre explains. Amanda's eyes rise when he says 'friend' but she doesn't comment on it. Placing a hand on her father's arm she tells him, “dad just let them in. I promise Imre and his... “chums“ won't bother mom too much.” Joshua just lets out a breath and retreats into the house. Amanda stays there for a second, looking at her father's retreating figure before turning to you. “Come in guys.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(7)*]] <<elseif $hair3 >>\ Your hand flies up so fast Lorcan flinches as if he's waiting to be slapped but you grab a handful of his hair to keep him in place and then mess it up. Imre lightly punches Lorcan in the arm. “Lorcan is by a nature a lone wolf but we're trying to get him out of his shell, right Imre?” you ask, grinning wide. Imre squeezes nudges Lorcan with his shoulder, “that's exactly right $name.” He says to Joshua, “it's a work-in-progress.” Meanwhile, Joshua looks vaguely uncomfortable and almost alarmed. Actually, he might tell you to fuck off. Three kids, one who looks like who's being pinched and prodded showing up at his door obviously unpracticed story is the last thing he probably wants to deal with. Before he can clearly say what he wants to say a young girl gently moves her father's arm out of the way. She looks to be around fifteen, you might've seen her at school. She barely glances at either you or Lorcan, her eyes glued to Imre. “Oh hi!“ she says a little too excitedly for someone who just lost her brother. But what do you know about grief? Imre shakes the girl's hand. “Amanda, I'm very sorry for your loss.” Amanda smiles sadly and a pink shade begins forming on her cheeks. “Thanks Imre,” she replies. Her eyes land on Lorcan, then you, her smile transforming into confusion. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her eyes remaining on you. “Yes well we were just telling your father that our friend Lorcan knew your brother and was hit very hard with the news of his passing and so we came for emotional support,” Imre explains. Amanda's eyes rise when he says 'friend' but she doesn't comment on it. Placing a hand on her father's arm she tells him, “dad just let them in. I promise Imre and his... “chums“ won't bother mom too much.” Joshua just lets out a breath and retreats into the house. Amanda stays there for a second, looking at her father's retreating figure before turning to you. “Come in guys.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(7)*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. You follow Amanda through a short hall into the kitchen. Gray light shines of the table but even so the light's on. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who sits at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. <<set $missioncomplete to true>> Imre holds out a chair for you and nudges Lorcan to hold out a chair for him which he does begrudgingly. You sit directly across from who you assume to be Christina Palmer. <<if $rpsImre >>Imre clasps his hands atop the table, an unoffensive expression to his accompanies his eventual words. “Mrs. Palmer, we are very sorry to disturb you in a grief I imagine is unlike anything we could ever experience and you could ask us to leave but it would really do Lorcan good to talk to you.”<<elseif not $rpsImre>>You swallow, trying to find the words to say. This woman looks broken and you don't know how to comfort someone like that. “We're really sorry about Sammy, it's probably been hell all day and we're not here to be morbid or anything we came because of Lorcan.”<</if>> The aforementioned expels a long-suffering breath but makes no move to dispel the story. Amanda hugs herself, standing by the sink. She's looking at her mother witha worried expression. Perhaps her grief is hidden beneath the clear fear she has for her mother's mental state. Such an odd notion. “Mrs. Palmer?” Imre asks and lightly touches her hand. Christina slowly moves her eyes away from the picture to the boy's fingers. Then ever-so unhurriedly climbs up his chest to meet his eyes. She let's out a small gasp. Imre moves his hand away, a furrow in his eyesbrows. She suddenly sees Lorcan by the exit. “How old are you two?” she asks, her voice raspy. “Nineteen,” Imre responds. “Nineteen,” Christina whispers. <<if $rpsImre && $fakedating3 >>Imre looks taken aback by the question but he attempts to get her attention. “Our,” he motions to you and him, “boyfriend knew Sammy in a way and he feels some of your grief. That is why we would like you ask some questions about Sammy, to get that closure.”<<elseif $rpsmc && $fakedating3 >>A bit taken aback by the question you give her a friendly smile and say, “Mrs. Palmer, Imre and I are here to support our boyfriend who feels he needs to get answers to be able to grief fully and for that we need to know a few things about why Sammy was out last night.”<</if>> Christina puts down the picture she's holding. Joshua sighsand says, “kids I know you're going through it but my wife isn't up for—“ “Sammy always said that when he grew up he'd be the most handsomest boy around,” Christina interrupts. She picks up another picture and stares at wistfully, “to him being grown up wasn't about being an adult it was about being a teenager.” You and Imre look at each other, both of you at a loss on how to push Christina's train of thought to the right direction. “Both of you kind of have things he had,” she says to the boys. “Like a mix. That's how my boy would've looked like!“ She stands up and you lean back as if she were to attack you. “Honey...?,” Joshua asks. Christina pushes her chair closer to Lorcan who has a scared look on his face. Christina grabs his face and with a tear-stained lip smiles at him, “kind of like you,” she extends out a hand and cups Imre's cheek, “and you.” “My boy,” she says looking back and forth between them. “Mom...,” Amanda says softly and lays a hand on her shoulder. “These are my boys,” Christina repeats dazzly. Joshua comes over to her other side and gently moves her arms down. “Honey, you can't do this.” Christina looks dejected as her husband brings her back to reality. Suddenly she shoves him hard and screams, “WHY NOT? WHY THE FUCK CAN'T I HAVE SOME PEACE?!“ Amanda takes a step back and Lorcan shoots you a panicked look. “Why can't I just have some peace?” she asks, her voice resigned and low. She slides to one side of her chair and her husband grabs her. Christina leans her head against his chest. “She needs some sleep, please don't be down here when I come back,” Joshua tells Imre. She cries into his shirt as she's escorted out of the room. The four of you are silent as you hear their footsteps getting further as they climb the stairs. Only when a door closes somewhere on the second floor does the room seem to regain oxygen. Amanda lets out a breath and walks over to her mom's former seat, collapsing on it. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(8)]] </h3>

<h3>“I'm so sorry guys,” Amanda says. Imre had a frsutrated look on his face as Christina had left the room but an easy smile appears on his face when he sees Amanda. “What for?” he asks. Amanda plays with the ring on her finger, “my mom. She's been either crying or just staring at pictures without moving all day.” <<if $rpsImre >>“It's to be expected, the last thing she wanted was three teenagers showing up at her door asking questions about her son,” Imre soothes. “Is your mom going to be ok?” you ask. Amanda shrugs, “I don't know. My dad keeps wanting to give her sleeping pills so maybe he got her to take them finally.” <<elseif $rpsmc >>“It's actually not that bad, most people would've told us to fuck off the minute they saw us. It's our fault,” you admit. “We're sorry if we made things harder for your family,” Imre adds. Amanda shakes her head, “you didn't do anything. She didn't even hear what you said.” <</if>> Amanda pours out some orange juice for herself and all of you. Imre politely sips, you just move the juice around the glass and Lorcan looks at his glass like it offended him. After taking a a few sips Amanda suddenly asks, “so is the dating thing real or not? Cause if it is that's kind of wild. I didn't know three people could date at the same time.” You and Imre quickly look at each other, his eyes telling you what he wants you to say. “Actually—“ you hear Lorcan begin and interrupt him by saying... <hr>\ * [[“It's very true.”|Sammy-3(9)][$truth3 to true]] * [[“No it isn't.”|Sammy-3(9)][$lie3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $truth3 >>\ “It's true.” “It's true.” “It's bullshit.” <<elseif $lie3 >>\ “It's not true.” “It's true.” “It's bullshit.” <</if>> All three of you exchange glances and Amanda laughs. “It's ok. It doesn't really matter if it's true or not. You guys need some answers right?” she asks. Imre grins, sliding his chair closer to Amanda's. You don't know he said it was true if he's going to try and flirt with her. You shake your head, no she's a kid he's not flirting he's just dazzling her. Anyway, it's not like you're dating him, really. “Amanda it would also be good if you told no one we came and asked these questions,” Imre insists. Amanda averts her eyes, her face going crimson at having him stare so intensely at her. “Can you do that for me?” he asks. She nods. “Ask away.” “Do you know why your brother was out?” you inquire. “Kind of. He got kind of obsessed with the disappearances and the bodies, thought he could solve it,” she replies, softly smiling at the memory. “What about what the police has told your parents?” She thinks about this for a moment before answering Imre. “My dad was very mad and said that the police in this town were useless and that obviously it was satanists.” Lorcan snorts loudly at that. You look at him and he says, “the only demonic shit in this town is the mystery meat served in the cafeteria on Tuesdays.” He's right about that, you tried it once and you weren't at school for a two weeks. “Any reason as to why he would say that?” Imre continues. Amanda twists her ring, “not really. But the 'useless' part was because they wanted to say Sammy died by accident.” You bunch your eyebrows, “so soon? It hasn't even been a day.” Amanda nods. “Yeah.” <<if $sbtwo>>\ Imre leans back in his chair, his gaze faraway, thoughts running in his head you aren't privy too. Well you're thinking too and the topic of satanism gives you an idea. “Amanda, are you aware of any marks left on your brother's body? I mean something out place,” you ask. “You mean apart from the bites taken out of him?” she responds in annoyance. You ignore her tone, “yeah like maybe a symbol on his chest?” She shakes her had. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>\ Imre leans back in his chair, his gaze faraway, thoughts running in his head you aren't privy too. Meanwhile you've gone blank. <</if>> Amanda finishes up her juice, wipes her mouth and collects yours even though you didn't really drink any. Imre checks his watch, “we should probably get going, we've spent too much of your time.” “Finally,” Lorcan says all too audibly. Amanda places the glasses in the sink and replies, “I'll walk you guys out.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(10)]] </h3>

<h3>As you get up you look down at the series of pictures on the table. It's Sammy in some many periods of his life. He's smiling in all of them. Odd how pictures work. “$name?” Imre calls from the hall. “I'm coming,” you reply. You're about to turn away when your eye catches one of them. It's Sammy dressed as a ghost. You pick up the picture and flip it, //Halloween 1992.// You dressed up as a ghost too for many Halloweens until Nia made you stop because she called it: “unoriginal, Birdie.” <<cycle '$sammypic' autoselect>><<option 'Take it.'>><<option 'Leave it.'>><</cycle>> [[NEXT->Sammy-3(11)]] </h3>

<h3><<if $sammypic is 'Take it.'>>\ You fold it and slip it in your pocket. You don't have time ask yourself why you did this as Imre calls you again. <<elseif $sammy pic is 'Leave it.'>>\ You set it back down, not wanting to take from a grieving mother her solace. Imre calls your name again. <</if>> When you squeeze past Amanda you find that she and Imre are talking about the student council. Lorcan leans on the railing looking bored out of his mind. “...I think you it would be cool if you could bring it up next meeting?” Amanda asks. Imre grins, “we do allow other members to talk, why don't you bring it up?” Amanda gets a nervous look in her eyes, “no! I don't like— they would listen to you not me!“ Imre holds up his hands to calm her, “ok, I'll bring it up but just this once if you're about the council you can't be afford to speak your mind.” Amanda makes an unconvinced sound but happily shakes Imre's hand again. “Bye guys,” she says to you and Imre. You give her a half-hearted 'goodbye' as you're too focused on the sky. Sunset already? “Bye,” Lorcan says curtly. Amanda smiles and shuts the door. Lorcan moves off the railing and says, “fuck me I thought we were never gonna leave.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(12)]] </h3>

<h3>“We should probaby discuss what we've learned, maybe find a picnic table and—“ “I think we should get them some flowers,” Lorcan interrupts. Imre grimaces. “We already gave our condolences, we don't need to do anything more than that.” “I don't wanna do it because we need to I just wanna buy them flowers,” Lorcan responds. Looking unimpressed Imre simply says, “fine do what you want. But make it quick I don't want to arrive home late.” Lorcan looks around and with an expectant face just stands there. Imre narrows his eyes, “what?” “I need you to drive me I don't have the bike here or give me the keys,” he says. Imre scoffs, “as if. Either go back to the lodge to get your bike or walk to Ms. Pepper's to get the flowers, I'll wait here in the car.” Lorcan curses the other boy out as he stalks past him and walks to the car. Lorcan stares after him a moment more before looking back at you. “Are you just gonna stand there?” <hr>\ * [[Stay with Imre.|Sammy-3(13)][$carhang to true]] * [[Go with Lorcan.|Sammy-3(13)][$flowersgo to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $carhang >>\ You shut the car door. The radio is playing one of those classical songs you've heard in movies but you can never place. Bach? Beethoven? Mozart? Imre has his head leaned against the headrest. Staring at nothing. “I thought you would go with Lorcan,” he says. “Why would you think that?” you ask. He rubs his eyes with back of his hand, “sometimes you seem as much of a bleeding heart as him.” You balk at his tone. “You think it's pathetic to gift flowers to a family who's just lost a kid?” “Does that make me a bad person?” he asks. You look ahead and think. “I'm not the best for deciding moral stuff.” He chuckles, “no you're definitely not.” You're silent for a while, listening to the faint music. The sky deepens, the section above you now black but a bit away the orange dying light of day still struggles against on the oncoming dark. “It's too bad we essentially didn't need a cover story since Amanda won't talk,” Imre asserts. “Why do you think she won't?” you inquire. “Because she's in love with me.” You almost laugh at how nonchalant and assured he is when he says it. “Yes like most people.” “It's too bad though,” he continues. You look at him but his gaze is still really nowhere. “Do you like lying that much?” He smiles. “I like it but it's not about that.” You wait for him to elaborate. This time he does turn his head slightly to you.<<if $fakedating3 >> “I would've loved to have the chance to show others how I would date you.”<<elseif $groupwork3 >> “I find that I like having you around, I could've shown you how good of a friend I can be.”<</if>> The bluntness of his words stuns you. He looks entirely sincere, his eyes open and light without that glint you see sometimes. His lips firm and straight. He almost looks tired. <hr>\ <<if $fakedating3 >>\ * [[♥️ “Would you be a good boyfriend to me?”|Sammy-3(14)][$Fanswer to true]] * [[♡ “How would you be a good boyfriend if you actually prefer to fuck yourself?”|Sammy-3(14)][$Aanswer to true]] * [[“Well too bad for you.”|Sammy-3(14)][$Nasnwer to true]] <<elseif $groupwork3 >>\ * [[⟡ “You do actually like me don't you?”|Sammy-3(14)][$Panswer to true]] * [[⟡ “I don't know how good of a friend I am but ditto.”|Sammy-3(14)][$PPanswer to true]] * [[“I don't really care to know.”|Sammy-3(14)][$NNanswer to true]] <</if>> <<elseif $flowersgo >>\ Lorcan kicks an empty beer bottle into a patch of grass. He's recently stopped grumbling about having to walk to Ms. Pepper's. Occasionally you two brush arms and he moves away until he's walking on the edge of the sidewalk. “You didn't need to come with me, I can do stuff on my own,” Lorcan says abruptly. “Not everything I do that has me around you has to do with you,” you reply. “Actually so far, all this is for the case.” Lorcan furrows his eyebrows, “the fuck does getting flowers have to do with the case? It's not like they'll give a shit anyway.” You sigh, “do you always have to be such a downer? It's a nice thing to do is all. I can be nice.” He snorts. “Sure you can.” You stop walking turn to face him, “do you want me to leave? Tell me right now and I'll go if being around me is so horrible.” “Heyyy,” he says and raises his hands up, not in surrender or peace but as a way to tell you to calm down. “You can do whatever the fuck you want. You want to come with me? Knock yourself out.” He starts walking and you catch up to him. You two practically walk in silence the whole way to Ms. Pepper's house. Whatever you're feeling, Lorcan seems to be fine. How quickly things can change, he used to not be able to stand being near you for extended periods of time. “I was right,” he says as you near the flower shop. “About?” “We didn't need to lie to the Palmer's. Amanda didn't fucking believe us for a second and still answered our questions,” he claims. “We were lucky,” you reply. <<if $fakedating3 >>\ “No one would've bought we're dating anyway,” he affirms. You raise your eyebrow. “Why?” you question. He shrugs, “I'm pretty ugly. No one would date me for real.” //Except Orla did.// You don't say that part. It never does well to mention her with him. As you continue to look at him he averts your eyes but his expression is blank. <<elseif $groupwork3 >>\ “The whole friend stuff wouldn't look real anyway,” he affirms. You raise your eyebrow. “Why not?” you question. He shrugs, “because everyone knows our history. It would be impossible for that to ever happen.” He feels his eyes on and looks back for a second before looking front. <</if>> <hr>\ <<if $fakedating3 >>\ * [[♥️ “Lorcan you're not ugly.”|Sammy-3(14)][$lfa to true]] * [[♡ “Yeah you are pretty gross looking.”|Sammy-3(14)][$laa to true]] * [[“Like you said it doesn't matter anyway.”|Sammy-3(14)][$na to true]] <<elseif $groupwork3 >> * [[⟡ “Stranger things have happened.”|Sammy-3(14)][$pa to true]] * [[⟡ “Two freaks being friends is actually pretty common.”|Sammy-3(14)][$ppa to true]] * [[“Who cares, we got what we wanted.”|Sammy-3(14)][$nna to true]] <</if>> <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $carhang && $Fanswer >>\ You don't catch the sly smile that appears on Imre's face. “Define 'good.'“ You laugh, “that answers that question.” Suddenly Imre leans over the console and scoot back until your back is pressed against the door. Imre places his arms on either side of your hips and inclines his head so that you have to look up at him. Smiling seductively he lightly traces your jaw. You feel your stomach drop and the air around get oppressively hot. His finger stops on your chin and he slow trails up and you anticipate the feeling of his finger on your lip. But he stops right at the edge. Staring at your lips, he smirks. “I could treat you very good, if you let me I could treat you amazingly.” You gulp, you don't know when but somehow you're breathing out of your mouth. You lick your lips and Imre follows the movement, his eyes growing dark. “I'm guessing by 'treating me good' you mean something else apart from getting flowers,” you respond breathlessly. He laughs softly, “I would give you something so much better than flowers cariño.” You almost jump when his finger finally touches your bottom lip. Your breath is touching his finger, for some reason that thought makes you squirm. “I could show you right now,” he muses. //Please//. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(15)]] <<elseif $carhang && $Aanswer >>\ Imre blinks at your comment before bursting out in a laugh. You bite your lip from laughing and say, “it's true. You're completely in love with yourself if you could fuck a clone of yourself you would.” In between laughs Imre says, “so you think I'm not only a pervert but an extreme narcissist too?” You nod, “yep. Egocentric, egotistical, self-interested, selfish, self-obsessed—“ “There's only so many synonyms for egotist $name. But I will say you're wrong in one thing,” Imre interjects. You roll your eyes and pointedly look at him, “of course because the only one who is never wrong is you. I'll bite, what is it?” You watch as his previous smile of amusement now turns into something with more teeth. Provocative. You feel around for the door handle. “I want to fuck someone else more than I want to fuck myself,” he says in a suggestive voice. Imre clicks a button and the doors of the car locks. Your handle slides down from the handle. “Oh yeah?” you curse at how high your voice sounds, “well I pity them, poor sack of shit.” He doesn't respond, instead he grasps your thigh and squeezes. You grunt as his fingers dig into your skin, he wants to bruise you. “You really should,” he replies cruelly. You try to pry his hand off but his grip is ironclad. “Let me go of me or I'll kick your stupid fucking face.” His hand travels upwards, “I think maybe I'll hold onto something much more interesting, don't you think?” You clamp your thighs shut. You wipe away a bead of sweat sliping down the side of your face. //Touch me.// You clear your throat and say, “Imre.” You try to say it as a warning but it comes out as a whine. “Should I stop?” he asks, as his hand inches up, his eyes looking down //there.// [[NEXT->Sammy-3(15)]] <<elseif $carhang && $Nanswer >>\ Imre chuckles. “You are a real ball of conversation, huh?” You shrug, “what's the point of saying stuff if you don't know what to say and you don't really care.” Shaking his head he replies, “I will never understand introverts.” He turns up the radio and the music blocks out any need for conversation which you're appreciative for. Soon enough you look at the mirror and see Lorcan coming down the street with a singular flower in his hand. He places it next to the other flowers and stands there for a minute. You can't hear him say anything. When he comes back into the car he says nothing and just sulks. “This group is the life of the party,” Imre remarks and pulls away from the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $carhang && $Panswer >>\ “Of course I do, do you doubt it?” he asks. You scratch your arm, “it is a bit hard to believe.” He gives you a questioning look, “how so?” “Because you have a lot of friends. People who have much more interesting lives than me, who don't carry some much,” you motion to the air, “on them.” Imre laughs and shoot him a glare. Noticing your look he stops laughing but continues smiling. “Those people, my 'friends' are some of the least uninteresting people I've ever met $name.” “But I literally do nothing. I have a boring normal life and not the social skills to make it sound interesting,” you say in a perplexed voice. Imre shakes his head as if you said something idiotic. “You can't see what I see. Trust me, that from the outside you are a fascinating person.” “And that's why you want to be my friend, because of my freakish life,” you conclude. Imre lets out a sigh, “no $name. It's not as if you're a carnival attraction but you also can't blame me for finding the things that have happened to you interesting. I find all unusual things worthy of praise.” You still can't believe him when he says this, maybe it's your own low perception of yourself but it's still nice to hear the lie. “Well I guess I'm pretty cool,” you jest. Imre grins, “the coolest.” Before either of you can see more you catch a glimpse of Lorcan walking towards the Palmer's house, a single flower in his hand. He places it next to the other flowers and stands there for a minute. You can't hear him say anything. When he comes back into the car he says nothing and just sulks. “Back to what really matters,” Imre states and pulls away from the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $carhang && $PPanswer >>\ Imre gives you a look of confusion, “since when are you a bad friend?” You in turn give him the same look. “A girl with brown skin, great hair and a cold ass attitude might think so. Don't know if you know her,” you snark. Imre's confusion becomes light-heartedness. “That has nothing to do with you being a bad friend $name,” he dismisses. That comment piques your interest and you ask, “has she said anything to you?” He shakes his head, “not at all. I just know that you being sent to an asylum isn't an indication of you being a bad friend.” You don't know what to say to that. Imre is looking at you and then says, “but we make a good team. It took a series of murders for us to realize that we should've been friends years ago.” “Oh did I say I want to be friends? I must be going insane,” you jest cheekly. Imre grins, “insane you already are pana but sanity as far overrated. Maybe you'll contaminate me with it, I'll finally be the mad scientists I've always wanted.” “Ufff I can't imagine you with that hair,” you reply with a smile. “No! Not the hair God not the hair,” he responds with a chuckle. Before either of you can see more you catch a glimpse of Lorcan walking towards the Palmer's house, a single flower in his hand. He places it next to the other flowers and stands there for a minute. You can't hear him say anything. When he comes back into the car he says nothing and just sulks. “Back to what really matters,” Imre states and pulls away from the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $carhang && $NNanswer >>\ Imre doesn't look bothered by your words. “You're a straight shooter, aren't you?” You look blankly at the street, “I don't like misunderstandings. We're here to figure this shit out not to be friends.” Imre nods, “well I disagree that two things can't be done at once but if being as you are helps us than so be it.” He turns up the radio and the music blocks out any need for conversation which you're appreciative for. Soon enough you look at the mirror and see Lorcan coming down the street with a singular flower in his hand. He places it next to the other flowers and stands there for a minute. You can't hear him say anything. When he comes back into the car he says nothing and just sulks. “This group is the life of the party,” Imre remarks and pulls away from the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $lfa >>\ Lorcan looks at you for a moment before scowling, “don't be an asshole.” You scoff, utterly incredulous. “Have you ever looked in the mirror?” Lorcan dismisses you, “I'm used to what I look like, I'm fine with it so I don't need you being a dick and lying.” You laughin disbelief, “you know that most people would totally want to date you just based off of looks alone.” “Bullshit,” he grumbles. You let out an exasperated sigh, “and here I thought I had low self-esteem.” You step in front of him and his chest bumps yours. He steps back and tries to sidestep you but you're quicker. “Leave me alone,” he demands. You look him straight in the face, “Lorcan you are one of the most attractive boys I have ever seen in all my life.” He refuses to make eye contact with you. But from the redness forming on his cheeks, you know he heard you. You refuse to budge and his eyes wonder to all places but you which means he accidentally lands on your collarbone. “You're... collarbone... looks... nice.” You let out a snort, “what?” He shoves you aside and walks to Ms. Pepper's. Laughing you walk after him, “c'mon Lorcan don't be like that wait!“ [[NEXT->Sammy-3(15)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $laa >>\ Lorcan glowers at you and shoves you the side. “Fuck you!“ You practically cackle and reply, “what? I'm agreeing with you. Do you want me to lie?” “I want you to run onto on oncoming car,” he snaps. “Oh Lorcan you're soooo handsome,” you clasp your hands to your chest and speak with an exaggeredly swoony voice. His nostrils flare and he seems ready to pounce on you. But you just cant't help yourself. “Please hold me with your sexy arms!“ you snark. “You know what—“ “Kiss me with those luscious lips you hot tree looking motherfucker,” you laugh. Your laugh is cut short when he tries to swing at you. Ducking you skip away and turn around with a shit-eating grin. You see his chest rise and fall with his anger. His cheeks are scarlet and his eyes are squinted into slits. His hair is messed up, sticking up in different ends and his lips are open, he's panting. Has he always looked like that when he's pissed? Huh. You tilt your head. Now that your focused on his looks like this he's kind of pr— He throws his boot at you. It hits your shoulder and you're so surprised the his form of attack that you watch it fall to the ground and pick it up. Holding it up you ask, “this is your evil plan? Make me have contact with this dirty shoe and have me get Ebola?” You stalks over to you attempts to snatch it out of your hand but you hold it back and try to push him away with your hand. Laughing all the while you watch as he flails for the boot. “Only if you say pretty please,” you goad. His face fills with more rage and you're laughing so hard you want to double over. But hubris is never on our side. As a tear falls down your cheek Lorcan takes hold of the boot and tries to pull it away from you but it hits your back and pushes you into his arms. Your nose bumps against his and you both freeze. Wide-eyes mirroring each other you two lean your faces away from the other. Looking dumbfounded at each other you don't speak. You're so close you can smell his breath in your mouth. You can feel his chest rise and fall. His heart beats in tandem with your own. “Oh fuck,” he says and rips the boot from your hand, stumbling back and lifting his foot to put it on. You look around at nothing, not knowing what to say. Any snarky comebacks died in your throat. Huffing out of his mouth Lorcan says, “let's just get this shit down.” He gets his boot on and walks towards Mrs. Pepper's shop and mutely you follow, rubbing your face. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(15)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $na >>| He nods, “yeah none of it matters.” He doesn't make any attempt to start any discussion between you two and you welcome it. You're here because you want to do something for that family not to make conversation. Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan picks a sunflower immediately and you look around. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> The way back seems much quicker than the way there and before you know it, Lorcan and you are placing your flowers down by the others. You two stand apart and each silently say something in your heads, words of condolence. When you get back to the car Imre yawns and simply says, “let's finally go.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $pa >>\ Lorcan laughs and stops when he realizes you're not exactly joking. “No fucking way.” You shrug, “we live in a town where some people have come back from the dead. You and I being friends wouldn't be a crazy thing.” “You and me,” he corrects you. “Um it's you and I,” you insist. Lorcan looks at you like you're the doofus. “SINCE WHEN?” You shake your head in disbelief, “since like forever!“ He thinks about this for a second and then proclaims, “I don't like it.” “Yeah grammer is weird isn't it?” you concede. He nods. “Like verbs? Adverbs? Prepositions?” “Conjunctions?” “And what the hell are colons for anyway?” he asks annoyed. “I have never used a colon in my life, it's just a more pretentious comma,” you state. He lifts his arms to the sky, “EXACTLY!“ And in the midst of more grammer bashing you get to Mrs. Pepper's shop. Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan picks a sunflower immediately and says to you, “does this look too happy? Cause that would be a dick move.” You shake your head, “it's pretty.” Lorcan decides to get it while you look around. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> On the way back to the Palmer's you two continue your conversation what you perceive to be useless subjects in school. “...if they let us read what we want to read I wouldn't fall asleep in English,” he affirms as he sets down your's and his flowers. Standing side by side you think it'll be a moment of silcen but Lorcan says in a low voice, “rest in peace Sammy.” He looks at you and you smile. Nodding, he jerks his head to the car. When you get back to the car Imre yawns and simply says, “let's finally go.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $ppa >>\ “Yeah then why I am not friends with the weird goth kids?” he asks. “That's because they are snobs,” you state. “Which is totally against the whole ideology right? Cause like aren't they supposed to be nice since they're outsiders?” You shake your head and reply, “that's a common misconception. They feel bad because they're not accepted so they make their own exclusive group and judge everyone.” Lorcan thinks this over and decides to agree. “The nicest group I've met are metalheads.” “There's metalheads in Croun?” you inquire. He gives you an exasperated look, “uh duh. They just skip more school than anyone.” You hum. Looking him up and down you ask, “but you're not a metalhead right?” “Nah. Music's cool but I mostly listen to grunge nowadays,” he admits. “That really popular band from Seattle is grunge right?” Lorcan makes a face, “they're sellouts. No if you want good grunge you have to listen to bands that play at seedy clubs at two in the morning on Saturdays.” “I'll keep that in mind,” you say in a friendly tone. “You should my music advice is rare and the best,” he claims before you reach Mrs. Pepper's. Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan picks a sunflower immediately and says to you, “does this look too happy? Cause that would be a dick move.” You shake your head, “it's pretty.” Lorcan decides to get it while you look around. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> On the way back to the Palmer's you two continue your conversation on music and Lorcan actually gives you some recommedations. “...but the second album is better than the first one,” he affirms as he sets down your's and his flowers. Standing side by side you think it'll be a moment of silcen but Lorcan says in a low voice, “rest in peace Sammy.” He looks at you and you smile. Nodding, he jerks his head to the car. When you get back to the car Imre yawns and simply says, “let's finally go.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $nna >>\ “You sound like Imre sometimes,” he says. You give him a withering look and look away. He doesn't like Imre so it wasn't a compliment. You're not like anyone, you're like yourself. Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan picks a sunflower immediately and you look around. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> The way back seems much quicker than the way there and before you know it, Lorcan and you are placing your flowers down by the others. You two stand apart and each silently say something in your heads, words of condolence. When you get back to the car Imre yawns and simply says, “let's finally go.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<audio "rock" loop play>> <<if $revengeL && $carL is 'slash the tires?' >>\ You two come up upon the ice cream parlor. The Lodge is second to the ice cream parlor because of how far it is on the other side of town. You see the driver and redheaded boy sitting in a booth with two other girls who look identical. From the way each boy reacts to the girls you assume it's a date. “You have to leave the bike in the alley,” you whisper to Lorcan. Lorcan jumps the curb and the bike goes in between the ice cream parlor and the barbershop. He waits for you to get off and he leaves the bike behind one of those huge metal green garbage cans. You plug your nose. Lorcan takes out a small switchblade from his boot. “You don't have to come I can do this by myself,” he says. You give a look, “this was my idea so I'm going to see it play out.” Lorcan shrugs, “whatever.” You follow Lorcan out of the alley, he presses himself against the brickwall by the big front windows that show the interior of the shop. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You move to go to the car and Lorcan holds arm out, “are you stupid? They could see us. Crouch idea girl.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You move to go to the car and Lorcan holds arm out, “are you stupid? They could see us. Crouch idea boy.”<</if>> You refrain from elbowing him. He goes down on his knees and crawls to the car. You copy him, grimacing at the hard ground against your knees. Lorcan presses the tip of the blade against the rubber tire. He grunts as his hand begins to shake. “Shit won't go in.” You grip his hand and slaps it away. Gritting your teeth you whisper furiously, “I'm trying to help you stupid.” Lorcan glares but doesn't protest when you touch his hand again. You push the blade in with as much strength as you have, Lorcan wasn't exaggerating. The rubber gives and both of you are almost thrown off balance as it does. You let go of Lorcan's hand and he pulls the knife out. “Three more to go.” <center>❖</center> The driver yells at his redheaded friend. He pulls at his hair and berates the crowd that has formed around them. The green lamborghini lays pathetically on the road. Everytime the redheaded boy tries to talk to the driver he gets screamed at. “I'm going to fucking kill whoever did this FUCK!“ the driver's screams can be heard from the bench you and Lorcan are sitting on about thirty feet away. Lorcan hasn't stopped grinning since the driver gave the first yell. You laugh as you see the driver trip on his own feet, his readheaded friend steadies him but the driver shoves him away. You see the towtruck come winding down the street. Lorcan's smile drops, “fun's over.” You look at the time. It would do no good to go to the Palmer's at this hour. Lorcan looks at your watch and then his mouth opens. But closes. You look him up and down, expectantly. He stands up and picks up his bike. He looks over his shoulder to see you still sitting and says, “well? We have time to kill before Imre starts riding our asses. Let's go“ You stand up and ask, “where are we going?” Lorcan sits on the bike and responds, “just get on oh my god.” You sit on the bike's uncomfortable seat and he immediately begins pedalling. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan4*]] <<elseif $revengeL && $carL is 'set it on fire?'>>\ You two come up upon the ice cream parlor. The Lodge is second to the ice cream parlor because of how far it is on the other side of town. You see the driver and redheaded boy sitting in a booth with two other girls who look identical. From the way each boy reacts to the girls you assume it's a date. “You have to leave the bike in the alley,” you whisper to Lorcan. Lorcan jumps the curb and the bike goes in between the ice cream parlor and the barbershop. He waits for you to get off and he leaves the bike behind one of those huge metal green garbage cans. You hand him the other plastic waterbottle. Not having enough money for gas you went to the grocery store and bought oil. “You aren't going to cry if we get caught?” Lorcan asks, throwing the bottle in the air and catching it. You scoff, “I'll get bailed out. Not sure about you.” You turn on your heel and head for the car, you hear Lorcan muttering something like, “mitch itch.” Before you can cross in front of the shop windows Lorcan grabs your wrist and pulls you back. “Are you stupid? They could see us. Crouch you fire freak.” You refrain from elbowing him. He goes down on his knees and crawls to the car. You copy him, grimacing at the hard ground against your knees. You try your best to not add too much weight to the hand holding the oil bottle. When Lorcan gets to the car he grabs the door handle and pulls. It opens and he looks at you, “pricks never lock their cars.” He unscrews the cap of the bottle and thrusts it, the oil gushes out and coats the most of the driver's seat and the stickshift. Having still a little more left in the bottle Lorcan begins to crawl towards the other side of the car. “Drench the back,” he instructs. This car is the type of where you have to lower the seat to get into the back. You slowly did so, stopping every few seconds in case either of the boys looked over and saw a seat magically move. After you have enough space you open the bottle and begin spraying the backseats. You see Lorcan slowly open the other door and coat the passenger seat. You two exchange glances and he takes out a match. <center>❖</center> The driver is crying, seated on the curb as the firemen uses the hose to stop the fire. A crowd has formed around the car and they've been going at it for five minutes already. Once Lorcan threw the match you both scrambled as quickly as you could back to the bike and the relative safety of the alley. Lorcan urged you to get on the bike and he began pedalling like an athlete out of there. You turned your head back to watch as the flames engulfed the interior of the car. Now you both stood about thirty feet away. “Holy shit,” Lorcan repeated for the sixth time with a smile on his lips. You two stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the dancin flames, your heart pounds in your chest. The exhiliration you felt watching what you did was addicting. You had even thought the car would explode like the movies. The redheaded boy stood awkwardly by his friend, he had tried to hug him but the driver shoved him away and had bawled like a baby. The firemen got the last of the fire and the hose sputtered off. “Fun's over,” Lorcan laments. You look at the time. It would do no good to go to the Palmer's at this hour. Lorcan looks at your watch and then his mouth opens. But closes. You look him up and down, expectantly. He stands up and picks up his bike. He looks over his shoulder to see you still sitting and says, “well? We have time to kill before Imre starts riding our asses. Let's go“ You stand up and ask, “where are we going?” Lorcan sits on the bike and responds, “just get on oh my god.” You sit on the bike's uncomfortable seat and he immediately begins pedalling. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan4*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Unlike most places in this town, the arcade is like the movie theatre. It has no real strangeness to it, apart from some quirks. Although being born and raised in this town you can't for sure say what counts as strange. It's the last building on Main Street before it becomes a stretch of road and sidewalks leading to another neighborhood. You have wondered how it is geographically possible for the town to have so much yet on a map be so small. Oh well. It's an entirely black building more akin to a mortuary by appearance with the only indices that it is what it is by the red neon sign over the double glass doors that says <span style=“color:#FF3131“><div class= “blink“>'MORTY'S ARCADE EMPORIUM!'</div></span> Morty is an 11 year-old boy who runs the arcade. How did this happen? It doesn't really matter. You've seen him eat human food so he's not of the hemoglobin type. And one time about five years ago he was stabbed, and flatlined at the hospital but he came to open the arcade next Friday like always. Lorcan leaves his bike laying against the wall and you push in the doors. The interior of the building is as you'd expect. There's bulking machines everywhere, separated by walkways covered with a red carpet decorated with yellow triangles, random squiggly blue lines and black circles. The snack counter is at the end of the room and the ticketbooth is right next to it. It's not that full tonight so Lorcan heads straight to a game about street fighters. Not knowing what to do you simply follow after him. He takes out some coins from his pocket and as you see it he says, “I'm not a chum who's going to leave the coins here and pay for new ones everytime Crowny.” [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan5*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatinglorcan >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so what did you do when you talked to Daryl? Did you make up a story as to why you were there?” You shift in your seat, “yeah.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and pray tell, what was it?” You bite your tongue. You can just imagine how Imre would get if you told him you pretended to be dating Lorcan. It's already made things between you and him awkward, you don't need Imre prying. You reply nonchalantly, “that we were doing a school project.” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif not $fakedatinglorcan>>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. He would look back and scowl, that would make you grin. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so what did you do when you talked to Daryl? Did you make up a story as to why you were there?” You shift in your seat, “yeah.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and pray tell, what was it?” You feel Imre wants a story. Something juicy like if you pretended to be Lorcan's date. You reply nonchalantly, “that we were doing a school project.” “Oh,” Imre says unethusiastically. He looks back at the road. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 279]] </h3>

<h3>When you arrive at the house Arthur is just pulling out. He waves to you as he leaves. You check to see if Sally's car is there and when you see a hint of yellow you say to Imre, “we have to hurry before my brother gets back.” Imre agrees. You push open the double doors and swiftly make for the stairs. “There's tons of boxes though, we won't be able to get through many tonight,” you explain. You turn around and wait for the boys to reach the second floor. “We'll have to look again another day, earlier. But maybe we'll get lucky now and find something,” Imre says. “These fucking stairs,” Lorcan huffs. The boys follow you as walk along the hall, looking at the ceiling for the latch. You grab the rope are about to pull when you hear a low moan. The lights on the upper floor are dimmer than the rest of the house. 'To give a calming ambience,' your father would say. So at first you can't see what's on the floor, crumpled in the corner. You squint and see a dark bundle of something. You think it's clothes that Percy threw on the floor for what's left of the help to wash. You're about to pull the latch down when the dark mass moans again. You and the boys look each other and Imre moves towards it. He crouches down and reaches out a hand. He whispers something and receives another moan. He scoots back and takes ahold of a... foot? <<if $nickname>>He looks back at you, saying, “$nickname, it's your mother.”<<elseif not $nickname>>He looks back at you, saying, “$name, it's your mother.”<</if>> Lorcan walks up to the pair and bends down. Your mother says something else that's louder but still unintelligible. She lifts up her hand and lets it fall against the hardwood floor. “It looks like she cut her foot,” Imre tells. He turns to you, “we need to take her to her room.” “You mean lift her?” you ask. “Duh. She can't walk there,” Lorcan replies. Imre pulls your mother from the wall and Lorcan stands behind her, putting his hands under her armpits. Imre looks for where he can lift and then raises his eyebrow at you, standing there just looking at the scene. “Are you helping?” Your mother moans again. <hr>\ * [[Help lift her.|Page 280][$lift to true]] * [[Make no effort to help.|Page 280]] </h3>

<h3>You watch him play a round. And then another round. And then another, another until you feel your eyes drooping. Your head snaps down and that wakes you up. You yawn and Lorcan curses as he loses. Leaning on the game he looks at you as if you made him lose. “Stop staring at me, it's creepy.” You cover up your mouth at the onset of another yawn. “I'm here doing nothing, what else do you want me to do?” Lorcan looks around. “You could play a game or you could play mine.” You scratch your head, “I don't have much practice playing videogames.” Lorcan makes a disgusted face and sticks his hand into his pocket, bringing out more coins. “So?” <hr>\ * [[Play a game.]] * [[Play Lorcan's game.->Sammy-Lorcan6*]] </h3>

<h3> Which game should you play? <hr>\ * [[Fighting game.|Games][$fightgame to true]] * [[Basketball game.|Games][$basketgame to true]] * [[Car racing game.|Games][$racinggame to true]] </h3>

<h3>“I like this one.” Lorcan moves back and you position yourself at the machine. He shoves in the coins. “Ok, it's a basic street fighting game, you just have to beat the other character,” Lorcan instructs. “Ok,” you say. The game starts and after choosing what you want your character to look like the fight begins. You start pressing the buttons and your character swipes but gets smacked in the face. “Shit,” you say. Lorcan huffs near your ear, “move closer, you can't hit them if you're that far away.” You start again and do so. You get a hit in and cheer, letting go off the joystick and looking over your shoulder at Lorcan. “No!“ Lorcan exclaims. You turn back to the game and see the other player beat the shit out of your character. You quickly scramble to defend yourself but because you're nervous you lose. You don't need to look over at Lorcan to feel the annoyance radiating off of him. <hr>\ * [[He guides you physically.|Games][$arcaderomance to true]] * [[He guides you without touch.|Games][$arcadeplatonic to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fightgame >>\ “Give me some coins,” you tell him. He drops some in your hand, making sure not to touch you. You go to an interesting machine that has a skeleton on it. The plot of the game is fairly simple. You're a character being in a tournament set up by a corporation. It's kind of like the fighting game Lorcan has been replaying. It takes you a bit to understand the mechanics and how quickly you need to move the joystick. The first time you lose you're a bit disappointed but you retry. When you lose the second time your fingers curl. When you lose the third time your face begins heating. By the tenth loss you angrily push yourself away from the machine and stomp over to the booths by the wall, cursing under your breath. <<elseif $basketgame >>\ “Give me some coins,” you tell him. He drops some in your hand, making sure not to touch you. The machine that has the outline of a baskeball player reaching for the net grabs your attention. You, yourself have never played basketball in your life but you think it's good enough know you need to get the ball into the net. You lose the first time. Ok, you think, let's try a little harder. The second time you get further than the first but you still lose. It takes you fifteen times to actual one a game and once you do you whoop audibly, and the people around you give you some looks. You silently smile and practically prance to the booths by the wall. <<elseif $racinggame >>\ “Give me some coins,” you tell him. He drops some in your hand, making sure not to touch you. You're drawn to a machine that has a car on its side. Due to your lack of knowledge on driving techniques you feel it might be a good chance to practice. Turns out it's rather hard to drive even in a game. You crash and burn the first time. “It's a process,” you say yourself. You get into horrific accidents a few times but the first time you manage to actually almost reach the finish line you feel a warm sensation of triumph in your chest. You get more competitive as you play each race. After you win one race you decide it's much more fun to crash into cars than pass the finishline. You watch with giddiness as your car collides with another. “Crowny!“ Lorcan calls from one of the booths by the wall. You finish getting into a good car accident before joining him, just as well you're out of coins. <<elseif $arcaderomance >>\ “Hey it's my fi—“ Lorcan puts his hand on the middle of your back and pushes your body down. Having you lean over the buttons he positions himself behind you. “Hey—“ you try to say as he grabs your hand and lays it on the joystick, keeping it there. “Just look idiot,” he says by your ear, his cheek touching your hair. Looking over your shoulder Lorcan starts the game again and moves your hand. He grabs your other hand and presses your fingers down on the buttons. You're about to tell him off for taking over like you were a stupid child but then you take time to notice what position you two are in. He's basically hugging you from behind. Your eyes bug out. Some deep region in your stomach twists. Your toes curl. Your muscles stiffen. The game forgotten you wait for the other shoe to drop. Sweat start forming on your forehead. “You see! That's how it's done!“ he chides. His breath tickles you. You remain frozen in your spot. It doesn't take him that long to notice. “You're not going to say anything? I just won you the game dumbass at least say th—“ he stops, “oh //fuck//.” He pushes you forward, away from him and making your knees hit the machine. For some reason you don't have the power to look back at him. You can hear him heavy breathing. Suddenly he says, “we're done playing. I'm going to the booths, do whatever the fuck you want.” Once he leaves it takes you several minutes to calm your heartbeat. You rub your face and sigh. You didn't like that. You didn't like that at all. You eventually go to the booths, Lorcan is picking at the plastic top of his plastic cup. Staunchly refusing to make eye contact with you even when you sit down. <<elseif $arcadeplatonic >>\ “Since you're so good at it why do—“ He shoves you aside. “Hey!“ He puts it another coin and restarts the session. “Just actually watch what I'm doing for fuck's sake,” he chastises. You glare at him but take a step closer and watch his hands and alternatively the screen. “You can either wait for the other player to come to you and hit them or right when it starts go in and get a punch or go in and just beat the shit outta them,” he tells you. You watch intrigued and he quickly beats the other player. He moves away from the machine and gestures, “now you.” You put it another coin and right off the bat go in. You manage to get a hit in but don't look away from the screen. The other player hits you and you pull back, waiting for them to come to you. They do and you punch them as they jump to you. They land and before they can get up you punch them again and again. You enjoy hearing the robotic punching and moans of pain. The screen displays the winning text and you grin, you turn around now to see Lorcan's smile quickly drop. He clears his throat and nods solemnly, “fucking finally the very least you can do is not make me waste more coins.” You roll your eyes, “such a sourpuss, it won't kill you to congragulate me.” Lorcan makes a disgusted face and hands you more coins, “I'm going to the booths.” He leaves you to play until you're out of coins. When you win one final time you go to the booths and slide in across from him. Lorcan is sipping noisily from a paper cup. <</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan7*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $arcaderomance>>\ You look down at your hands on the table. You don't know where to look. Lorcan takes a sip of his drink. You glance up and see hints of fading pink from his cheeks, he looks at you in that moment and you both look away, This has never happened with him before. There's never been awkward moments, just angry ones and silent ones. And this awkwardness is... strange. You shouldn't have touched. You should've moved away and he shouldn't have even done that to begin with. “You really suck at games,” Lorcan cuts in randomly. He's still looking at his cup. “Well you're a sucky teacher,” you retort. Lorcan sticks up the middle finger and just like that the air is cleared. <<elseif not $arcaderomance>>\ You and Lorcan don't talk. Mostly because you're not friends nor friendly but also because he seems to be trying to break the record of how fast someone can finish a soda. His slurping is loud and distracting. Many people playing on machines near the booth occasionally look and shoot daggers at him which he's oblivious to. Once he finishes he says, “ahhhhh.” “Don't think imma give you more coins to do shit-all with,” he says. “Um, I did pretty good Lorcan,” you insist. He shakes his head, “you didn't completely fucking embarass yourself which is the least you can do for me since I'm forced to be seen in public with you.” “Yeah meanwhile for me it's my greatest wish to be seen associating with you,” you sarcasm. He smirks, “yeah that means people will think you actually have friends.” You give him the finger and he laughs. <</if>> You two watch as more kids start leaving, the sunset seeminlgy come sooner and sooner each day. “Did you get back at those assholes who were shit to you the first day?” Lorcan asks suddenly. The question is unexpected. You haven't thought about those incidents in weeks. You deny it. “I heard what happened to them like everyone else.” Lorcan snorts and gives you a look of complete disbelief. “Really? The two people who said shit to you and tripped you got shit done back to them by randos?” he asks, unconvinced. You shrug, “I don't know. Maybe it's karma.” Lorcan scoffs, “karma doesn't fucking exist. If you didn't do it who did?” You open your hands, “beats me I have enough to think about with mysteries to focus on one I don't care that much about.” “You're fucking boring.” “And you're fucking curious, since when do you care about what happens to me?” His nose curls, “gross. Don't ever think something so awful of me again.” <<if $revengeL >> He crumbles his cup and looks as if he's thinking. He says, “even if you didn't get back at those two, you did get back at those fuckers in the car.” “So did you,” you point out. “Yeah and it felt fucking good,” he says with a hard tone. Something about his face though, as he looks down at the cup makes me doubt his sincerity. But did it? Did revenge feel good? <hr>\ * [[Yes it did.|Sammy-Lorcan8*][$revenge to true]] * [[No it didn't.|Sammy-Lorcan8*][$highroad to true]] <<elseif $kickedout >> He crumbles his cup and looks as if he's thinking. He says, “yeah you probably didn't do shit. You didn't even want to get back at those fuckers in the car.” “You weren't running to get revenge either,” you point out. “Because we had to go to that house with those crazy people,” he says judgementally. You scoff, “ok the mom was a bit too much but to play devil's advocate she was grieving.” “Ugh, we all lose somebody,” he says dimissively. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan8*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $revenge >>\ It felt right to do what you did. Your whole life people have done things to you. Unfair things and this is the first time you've ever really taken matters in youe own hands without getting unconciously angry. It gives you a thrill to think about the pain you caused the driver. A thrill you would love to feel again. <<elseif $highroad >>\ You were momentarily glad you did it. It felt fair, it felt like justice but as you stew in the images of the driver's face you're initial selfrighteousness begins to decline and you're conscience rises. It was too cruel. Someone says some mean things to you and you're solution is to fuck with their property? You don't even think the punishment fits the crime much less if you should've done it. No, you can't let that happen again. <<elseif $kickedout >>\ It's odd behaviour from someone who lost both his parents and who had to be reminded of it today by a distraught mother who was unfairly looking for advice on grief and loss from a teenager. But what do you know? You've never lost anyone you really loved. <</if>> Lorcan leans to the side and looks up at the clock on the wall. “Let's fuck off, pretty boy will be extra annoying if we show up late and he'll already be annoyed that we didn't get shit and I don't want a double lecture or I'll kill him,” he says seriously. He throws the cup in the trashcan on your way out. Morty stands by the door eating a pretzel. “Come again!“ he says excitedly as you exit. [[NEXT->Sammy-Lorcan12]] </h3>

<h3>The wooden bench feels cold under you. It also feels weak. You rub your hands together atop the pages set out on the table. <<audio "rock" stop>> <<if $revengeL >>\ “Instead of doing what had agreed on, both of you decided to go to not only mess up someone's car but then go to the arcade? Am I understanding that correctly?” Imre asks. Lorcan shrugs, “it's not my fault the day is ending quicker. By the time we were done it would've been a bad time to go there. They wouldn't have opened.” Imre raises his eyebrow, “and you two know this how? Did you call ahead? Are you mind-readers?” Lorcan scowls. You roll your lips. You two do have a flimsy excuse, don't you? It looks like you slacked off. “Remind me to never pair you two up again,” Imre chastises. <<elseif $kickedout >>\ “You're telling me you decided to antagonize a grieving mother for being a tad inappriopriate?” Imre asks. Lorcan glares at him, “she was being a nosy bitch. It's not a big fucking deal anyway. She wouldn't know shit.” Imre tilts his head, “you are only saying that to cover up your mistakes. You could've played along, told her what she wanted to hear. That's how this works, people are easy to handle when you tell them what they want to hear.” “Not everyone is fucking sociopath like you,” Lorcan retorts. Imre ignores this, writing something down in his notebook. <<elseif $defend2 >>\ “She was a bit too out of it to really give us anything but she did say that the police were already saying that they wanted to say the kid's death was an accident,” Lorcan says, picking his nails. “So on one hand we have Samuel Palmer's death being possibly ruled an accident and on the other as I just told you, we have Candace's mother saying her daughter's death was ruled a suicide,” Imre says, contemplative. “Do you think Stephanie's is probably ruled something that also doesn't indicate it was murder?” you ask. Imre nods. “Most likely, which solidifies Sammy's death to me as being apart of all this.” <</if>> Imre looks down at the missing poster for Stephanie. Suddenly he says, “given the lack of investigation into this whole mess I could've said that the police were merely lazy. Now it seems that they are actively trying to bury this.” “I could've told you how much those motherfuckers cover up shit without doing all this,” Lorcan says. “We need to know more,” Imre attests. “This pile of two girls is too small, if this has been going on for as long as we think we need to go back.” Lorcan, still scratching at the table suggests, “maybe old asshole Crown has something we can use.” Imre looks to Lorcan, intrigued. You look to Lorcan and he says, “your dad, duh.” You purse your lips, “hmmm. He might have some stuff in the attic. He was always boasting about our family legacy, if we're looking at the town's history that would be a good place to start.” Imre starts putting the notebooks and missing posters in his satchel, “let's not waste time then.” [[NEXT->Page 278D]] </h3>

<h3><<if $neutral && $policebrutality >>\ The moment you walk closer to the boys and say that to the officer is when he finally has to acknowledge you're there. Officer Karras seems confused for a second, “and who are you?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“She's $name Crown, wow looks like there is one teenager you haven't tried to beat or fuck in this town,” Lorcan remarks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“He's $name Crown, wow looks like there is one teenager you haven't tried to beat or fuck in this town,” Lorcan remarks.<</if>> “You little shithead,” Karras seethes. He moves towards Lorcan and you stand in his way. Looking him in the eyes you say, “he hasn't done anything. It was a dumb fight that's over now. Is being a washed-up cop in a town in the middle of nowhere so demeaning you have to get your kicks of power out of abusing a kid?” Officer Karras grabs your arm and pulls you to him. “Hey!“ Lorcan yells, he shoves the officer away. Karras takes out his taser and points it at you two. Blazing eyes stare you down and he snarls, “both of you put your hands where I can see them, you're under arrest for public disturbance and assaulting an officer.” “Of course we fucking are,” Lorcan spits on the ground. Imre puts his hands up in a sign of peace and takes a step towards officer Karras, “officer, this has gotten out of hand. I apologize on behalf of my friends, they meant no disrespect.” Officer Karras keeps his taser focused on you and Lorcan, “but they did disrespect me. Kids these days have no regard for their elders or authority.” Imre nods in concession, “you're absolutely right. But you know me and I trust that you will believe me when I say I can turn these two around.” He's close enough know where the taser is inches from his chest. Officer Karras lowers his arm. “In the meantime I can lessen your wounds, I would just need to go to the bank,” Imre says. Officer Karras glares at you two, you with your hands by your sides and Lorcan's clenched into fists. “What do you say?” Imre asks in a friendly voice. Officer Karras seems to chew on this proposition, moving his eyes from you two to the mayor's son. A slow smile creeps onto his face, “you're a fine young man Mr. Duran.” [[NEXT->pre-bar]] <<elseif $neutral && $connections >>\ You walked up to the group as you said this, stopping near Imre. Officer Karras has no choice now but to deign to accept your presence. “Who are you?” he asks. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Fuck me you know who she is. You're just scared shitless now,” Lorcan says with a smirk.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Fuck me you know who he is. You're just scared shitless now,” Lorcan says with a smirk.<</if>> Officer glares at Lorcan before asking you, “you're brother is Salvatore Crown isn't he?” You nod, “yes and he's rather busy nowadays I don't think he would appreciate to be called away from his work to handle a matter that could be easily resolved if you let Lorcan off with a warning.” You feel Lorcan's eye on you, when you look he's looked away. Officer Karras doesn't remove his hand from his belt. His eyes bounce from Lorcan, to you, to Imre. The latter has a diplomatic smile to his face. “Truly officer Karras, there is no need to bother Sally. I know he would remember to thank you once $name tells him how diligent and fair you are,” Imre cajoles. Slowly, officer Karras let's his hand slide off his belt. Clearing his throat he says to Lorcan in particular, “act accordingly to public laws.” Lorcan salutes him mockingly and officer Karras walks to his squad car. You all follow the car with your eyes and wait for it to be far enough to talk. Lorcan crosses his arms and huffs, “I'm not saying thanks. I wouldn't of given a shit to go jail for the night.” You roll your eyes, “whatever I can live without your thanks.” Imre looks at his watch, “hmm we wasted more time than I thought. We could still go however.” “Nah, I'm not in the mood to deal with crying parents. I'm going to the pub,” Lorcan says. “To the pub?” Imre raises his eyebrow. Lorcan looks at Imre like he's stupid, “yeah like I said. Ya'll can come or not I don't give a fuck.” Imre's brows furrow, he doesn't like the idea but he looks at you. “Do you want to go to the pub?” Now both boys are looking at you. <hr>\ * [[Go with Lorcan.]] * [[Go with Imre.]] * [[Ask Imre to come to the pub.]] <<elseif $needle && $policebrutality2 >>\ Imre throws you an incredulous look. Lorcan looks equally baffled. “What did you say to me you little brat?” officer Karras says. You walk up to him, looking him right in the eyes. “I said that you can go and fuck yourself officer Karras,” you repeat slowly. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Officer Karras I am so sorry, she doesn't mean it,” Imre tries to pacify.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Officer Karras I am so sorry, he doesn't mean it,” Imre tries to pacify.<</if>> You guffaw, “yes I do!“ “Shit,” Lorcan chimes in. Officer Karras takes out his taser and points it at you. “Put your hands where I can see them, I'm taking you the station for disturbing the peace,” he says angrily. “Office Karras I don't think that's necessary,” Imre butts in. “Yes the fuck it is! Are we in fucking nazi Germany that we can't say what we think?” Lorcan asks rhetorically. Imre looks at you two, bewildered. “Do you wanna come along too Lorcan?” officer Karras asks venomously. Lorcan shoves his wrists towards the officer, “book me.” And that's how you and Lorcan get thrown into a jail cell at the station for the rest of the day. [[NEXT->JAIL]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3> ''Oh no, that won't do. Are you kidding me? As if. You wanted to be shit-stirrer? Well see it through.'' <hr>\ * [[“Why don't you go and fuck yourself?”|Sammy-3(4)*][$policebrutality2 to true]] </h3>

<h3>You and Imre tie. Lorcan grunts but steps back. Before you can restart Imre puts his hands down and says, “I agree with your inital choice anyway $name. Your decision is great.” You're surprised he's so easily convinced to let you choose the strategy but you don't waste time asking. Lorcan makes a face. <<set $rpsmc to true>> You press the doorbell. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(5)]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan cuts you before you can envelop Imre and Imre smashes Lorcan. Imre smiles, “I did this only to amuse Lorcan. I think your original idea is the best course of action.” <<set $rpsImre to true>> Lorcan rolls his eyes and Imre knocks on the door. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(5)]] </h3>

<h3>You cut Imre but Lorcan smashes you. “I think we should tell them the truth... ish,” Lorcan suggests. Imre protests, “what we're doing could get us into trouble. Do you not understand that?” “They wouldn't tell,” Lorcan tries to persuade but his voice expresses doubt. “You don't know that,” you counter. <<set $rpsmc to true>> “But you don't know either!“ he hisses. “Lorcan, you won the game, just choose,” Imre badgers. Lorcan mumbles to himself but relents with much disaccord. “We're going to pretend we doing a class project.” <<if $fakedating3 >>\ “Anything to get out of dating us huh, Lorcan?” “Yep, but I'm not doing the talking“ he says and shoves you forward. You press the doorbell. <<elseif not $fakedating3>>\ “Um that was literally my initial idea?” you say. Lorcan shrugs, “yeah but now it's my choice loser.” He shoves you forward and you press the doorbell. <</if>> [[NEXT->Sammy-3(5)*]] </h3>

<h3>“Shit,” you say. You step back as the other two go in for another round. The eventual winner is... <<cycle '$rps' autoselect>><<option 'Imre.'>><<option 'Lorcan.'>><</cycle>> Who knocks on the door. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(4)]] </h3>

<h3>Alice's lies between a burger shop and an apparently abandoned building that always has it's lights on. It's a place with tinted front windows, a wooden door with a red bell on top that broke long ago and in the interior is luminated by softly glowing yellow light that serves to lull extremely drunk people to sleep. It's one floor, circular tables to the right with wooden beams occasionally here and there while to the left lies the bar itself. The bar counter is never not sticky and bottles are slotted into cabinets around it connected to the ceiling. Alice herself can usually be found there with two of her bartenders. <<if $boys2 >>\ All three of you stand by the door. “Hey Lorcan!“ a red-faced man sits up and holds up a beer in a greeting. Lorcan waves. The man notices you and Imre and nudges his friend who when he sees you nudges his friend. Imre stands there with his hands in his trousers. A blase expression on his face. As if he couldn't be bothered. Or maybe he's used to it. People stare a bit longer at you but it seems to be more out of the novelty at having you here instead of outright fear or agression. Alcohol does wonders. “So—,” you start to say but Lorcan walks away to the playing darts. “And then there were two,” Imre flashes a smile. Imre's eyes land on a pool table and he says without looking at you, “I'll be there, if you want to join me you're welcome to.” You watch as he saunters away. Creating a path between the tables and clients that has no one touch him but all follow him with their eyes. And then there was one. <hr>\ * [[Play darts with Lorcan.]] * [[Play pool with Imre.]] * [[Drink a beer at the bar.]] <<elseif not $boys2>>\ You to stand side by side at the door. Hey Lorcan!“ a red-faced man sits up and holds up a beer in a greeting. Lorcan waves. The man notices you and nudges his friend who when he sees you nudges his friend. People stare a bit longer at you but it seems to be more out of the novelty at having you here instead of outright fear or agression. Alcohol does wonders. “So—,” you start to say but Lorcan walks away to the playing darts. Now it's you standing there oddly. You look around to see what you can do. <hr>\ * [[Play darts with Lorcan.]] * [[Play pool.|Play pool with Imre.][$solopool to true]] * [[Drink a beer at the bar.]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“I've never been to Alice's,” you say. Lorcan looks around, “uh we're not far, we can walk.” Imre seeps in disapproval but he just nods and climbs into his car. Lorcan goes to the window and leans down to say something to Imre. “Fine,” Imre says irritated. <<set $boy1 to true>> Lorcan walks back and at your questioning look he shrugs, “someone needs to go get my bike.” He starts across the street and you follow behind. [[NEXT->Pub]] </h3>

<h3>You look at Imre, “I really want to know what they know.” He nods in approval and gives Lorcan a smug look before going into the car. You climb into the other side and before Imre can turn on the engine, Lorcan comes to his window and says, “pick up my bike.” Imre twists the key and replies, “you're not doing anything, get it yourself.” “But—“ Imre drives off. In the rear view mirror you see Lorcan in the middle of the road, watching. “What a bother,” Imre says. <<set $oneoff to true>> As Imre drives to the Palmer's you take out the newspaper from his satchel. Sammy's parents are called Christina and Joshua, there's also mention of an older sibling. When Imre pulls into the street where their house lies, the sun is beginning to descent into the horizon. The street itself is mostly deserted, as you pass the houses you look in to see most people watching TV. However, there is one or two kids on their lawns playing with their toys. A dog sniffs at a flowerbed. Imre parks the car across the street from a mailbox that says 'PALMER' in white paint. “Ready?” he asks you. “Ready,” you assure. Imre is fairly quick crossing the street, bounding up the steps and ringing the doorbell that you have to lightly jog to catch up to him. When you do, he rings again. You squint to see within the fading light of the door window. Imre sighs and knocks on the door. After another minute he attempts to knock again but the door opens to a young girl — only fifteen perhaps — standing in the foyer of the house. You and Imre exchange glances. Imre's annoyed expression quickly morphs to friendliness and he says, “Amanda, it's nice to see you, albeit the circumstances aren't ideal.” Amanda returns Imre's smile and puts her finger to her lips, “hi Imre. You have to be quiet, mom is finally sleeping and dad is watching over he'll get mad if she's woken up.” Imre holds up his hands, “alright, I mean no harm. I'm here to talk about your brother.” “Oh,” Amanda's smile slips off her face. Imre looks to you with his smile and you realize he's giving you the chance to lead the questions. <hr>\ * [[“Do you know why your brother was out so late?”|One-off][$sammyq1 to true]] * [[“How are the police handling this case?”|One-off][$sammyq2 to true]] <<if $sbtwo>>* [[“Did your brother have strange lines on his torso?”|One-off][$sammyq3 to true]]<<elseif not $sbtwo>>* [[You think he should do it.|One-off][$sammynoq to true]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3>“You should come with us,” you say to Imre. One of corner of Imre's lips turn up, “do you want me to?” You nod, “if I wouldn't have asked if I didn't. If we're going to slack-off, you should get to too.” <<set $boys2 to true>> Imre's lopsided smile grows as he looks at you. He really seems to like that you admitted this. “Are we going or not?” Lorcan butts in. “If we go too late we won't find seats.” Imre swipes his hand to the car, “after you $name.” Lorcan makes a gagging sound from behind you as you walk to the passenger's side. The boys climb in and you head to Alice's. [[NEXT->Pub]] </h3>

<h3>The whitelight in the hall in front of the cell has seemed to become brighter in the hours you've been here. You $habit, as you sit on the cement bench, hugging your legs to your chest. “Oh shit that is a thing you do,” Lorcan says from your left, sprawled on the bench at the corner of the wall, his head against the gray stone. You stop. “What thing?” <<set $JAIL to true>> “That thing,” he opens his hand and moves it in a circular motion to indicate yourself as whole. “Def thought I imagined it but like nah you do that shit all the time.” You sigh deeply, “do you think we'll be here all night?” Lorcan shrugs, “maybe. Maybe not.” “And you're not worried?” you ask, leaning your head against the wall. Biting his nail, Lorcan responds, “ain't my first rodeo. After a while this bench is comfortable.” “Well it's mine,” you say and get up, going to the steel bars. You wrap your hands around them. “The last time you think about when you're getting out the faster time goes Crowny,” he says. You huff. “Yeah totally easy, just not to think about the very walls around me.” “You see? You aren't that stupid sometimes.” You throw him a look over your shoulder, finding him grinning. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “You let him arrest you, too.”]] * [[♡ “I can't believe I got arrested because of you.”]] * [[⟡ “Thanks for being here.”]] * [[You close your eyes.]] </h3>

<h3>“What?” he asks as he yanks off a hangnail. You shrug and look down at your feet, “I mean he had stopped paying attention to you and you still got yourself arrested.” Lorcan looks at, a blank stare. “I didn't want to owe you anything.” “Owe?” Lorcan looks around the cell, not meeting your eyes. “You... you, ugh,” he curses. “You stood up for me, ok? Happy? I thought it would be a bitch move to let you do that by yourself. Anyway I hate “officer“ Karras.” “So you did mostly because you didn't want to be in my pocket?” you ask, your voice wavering. Lorcan decides to look at his hands, where he contines to pick his nails. You look away, an ugly feeling in your chest. “God, you're an asshole,” you whisper. He sighs. “Crowny—“ “Here they are,” a police officer walks into the corridor, with Imre by his side. You smile and look over your shoulder, Lorcan snatches his hand back as he's moved to stand behind you. He gives you a panicked look but before you can say anything the cell door opens. The officer steps aside and Imre stands there with his arms crossed. He only says one word. “Unbelievable.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan cackles, “you think you got arrested because of me?” You turn around, the bars pressing into your back. “If you hadn't decided to be a fucking baby with Imre, that officer wouldn't have come and I wouldn't have needed to come and save your ass.” Lorcan's smile slips. “Is your stupid brain actually thinking that?” He swings his legs off the bench and before you can move, he comes up in front of you, trapping you between the bars and himself. His hardened eyes penetrate yours. His hand flexes and he seems to want to wrap it around your neck. You grit your teeth, refusing to show fear. Let him try to hurt you. He leans his face closer and whispers, almost like a lover, “why did you save me?” Your eyebrows rise. You hadn't expected that. His gray eyes shine from the white light. Cool steel. His lips are firmly pressed together, they're chapped. Bitten. You idly wonder if he how nice his lips must look when he bites all the extra off. They're thin lips but pink, sometimes it looks like he's wearing a pale pink lipstick. Lorcan leans his head back, his hardened eyes widening. You realize that you both know where you were looking. Like a deer caught in the headlights your eyes flicker, you must look terrified. Lorcan seems unsure of what to say. “$name what are—“ “Here they are,” a police officer walks into the corridor, with Imre by his side. Lorcan jerks away from you. You turn around and keep your eyes trained on Imre. The officer steps aside and Imre stands there with his arms crossed. He only says one word. “Unbelievable.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan looks like he smelled something foul. “What?” You snort, “I'm not like you. I've never been here so I'm glad that you're here at least.” Lorcan looks even more confused. “What?” You roll your eyes, “you know that I'm thanking you, calm down. It happened. Just say 'you're welcome.'“ Lorcan looks uncomfortable at the prospect. “Do I have to?” You smile while shaking your head, “you don't make anything simple, do you?” Lorcan shakes his head. You laugh. Lorcan goes back to picking his nails, not a calm look on his face but not defensive. Which you count as a win. “Here they are,” a police officer walks into the corridor, with Imre by his side. The officer steps aside and Imre stands there with his arms crossed. He only says one word as you two await to walk out. “Unbelievable.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] </h3>

<he> And lay your forehead against the cool bar. Thankfully Lorcan is not in the mood to pester you because you would most likely deck him. You breathe in and out. Trying to ignore the ticking of your wristwatch. The cool bars grow warm in your hands. You don't think you could actually sleep here. You're not stranger to be locked up but jail is another matter and in the hospital if you didn't have a bed you had the soft pads of the solitary room. You're rubbing your forehead from left to right against the bar when you hear it. “Here they are,” a police officer walks into the corridor, with Imre by his side. The officer steps aside and Imre stands there with his arms crossed. He only says one word as you move to the opening and Lorcan gets up. “Unbelievable.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] </h3>

<h3>The bright light of the streetlight makes you make a noise of disaste. Imre parked right under it. <<audio "rock" stop>><<audio "investigation" stop>> <<if $boys2 >>\ “I much would've preferred to have set out what we were going to do when we left the lodge,” Imre begins. “Oh here we go,” Lorcan complains. “But... I had fun and we know that the police are aiming to rule this an accident as a way to close the case,” he finishes. Shielding your eyes from the light you ask, “so what do we do next?” <<elseif $boy1 >>\ “Did you two have fun?” Imre asks. Lorcan lifts up a finger, “don't start Imre. You didn't come because you're a boring grandpa.” Imre ignores Lorcan and continues, “while you two were doing god knows what I managed to figure out that the police wants to rule the Palmer boy's death an accident.” You quirk your brow, “that's quick.” He nods, “too quick.” <<elseif $oneoff >>\ “While you were wasting yourself away in your cups—“ “You know what you pigheaded dandy—“ “$name and I did get something useful,” Imre states. Lorcan crosses his arms, “what?” “The police want to declare Samuel Palmer's death an accident,” he replies. Lorcan looks surprised, “shit.” Shielding your eyes from the light you ask, “so now that we know that, what do we do next?” <<elseif $JAIL >>\ “Why is it that when you two finally agree on things you end up in prison?” Imre chastises. Lorcan raises up a finger. “One, it wasn't prison it was jail and two, I am not pig's asslicker.” Imre lets out an exasperated sigh and runs his hand through his hair probably cursing the moment he invited you two to join him. “Did you learn anything?” you ask. “Yes, while you two were locked up I had time to speak with Amanda Palmer, Sammy's sister,” he explains, “ and she said that that the police wants to rule the Palmer boy's death an accident.” “Fuck,” Lorcan says. “Yes,” Imre agrees. <<elseif $missioncomplete >>\ “We know two things,” Imre says as he leans against his car. Lorcan bites his nail, “if you're gonna start with the teacher shit you had at the lodge I'm fucking off.” “We know that it wasn't the family, they were too grieved to have done it unless they're Shakespearean actors and that the police want to rule Samue Palmer's death an accident a day after his death,” Imre articulates. “Ok, based off that what's our next move?” you ask. <</if>> Imre took out both Stephanie's and Candace's missing posters. He looks down at them for a brief moment before saying, “given the lack of investigation into this whole mess I could've said that the police were merely lazy. Now it seems that they are actively trying to bury this.” “I could've told you how much those motherfuckers cover up shit without doing all this,” Lorcan says. “We need to know more,” Imre attests. “This pile of two girls is too small, even Sammy doesn't help because he's an outlier. If this has been going on for as long as we think we need to go back.” Lorcan, still scratching at the table suggests, “maybe old asshole Crown has something we can use.” Imre looks to Lorcan, intrigued. You look to Lorcan and he says, “your dad, duh.” You purse your lips, “hmmm. He might have some stuff in the attic. He was always boasting about our family legacy, if we're looking at the town's history that would be a good place to start.” Imre starts putting the notebooks and missing posters in his satchel, “let's not waste time then.” [[NEXT->Page 278E]] </h3>

<h3><<if $sammyq1 >>\ “Oh,” she says. She looks at Imre quickly and then back at you. “Sorry, I thought Imre would be... but no I don't. I mean I kind of do—“ You give her a confused look. She clams her mouth shut and then tries again, “I'm not sure but I think he was out because he got this idea that he could save these girls from the monster.” “A courageous thing,” Imre remarks. “It was dumb,” Amanda shakes her head. “If the police aren't doing anything my baby brother shouldn't have to.” “Speaking of, have you any idea what the police are doing to investigate your brother's death?” Imre asks. Amanda looks behind her shoulder, “look you guys have to go.” Imre rolls his tongue behind his cheek but he still smiles at her, “understood. Thank you for answering $name's question and sorry for disturbing you.” Amanda blushes, “you never bother me Imre.” She looks to you and says, “bye.” She quietly shuts the door in your face. <<elseif $sammyq2 >>\ “Oh,” she says. She looks at Imre quickly and then back at you. “Sorry, I thought Imre would be... but uh I heard my dad complain that they were being super lazy.” “Why?” Imre inquires. Amanda looks behind her before saying, “apparently they want to declare it an accident like he was killed by an animal or something.” “Already?” you ask in disbelief. “Yeah, and they want my dad to sign off on it,” she responds. Imre rubs his chin, “do you know why you're brother was outside so late at night and alone?” Amanda looks behind her shoulder, “look you guys have to go.” Imre rolls his tongue behind his cheek but he still smiles at her, “understood. Thank you for answering $name's question and sorry for disturbing you.” Amanda blushes, “you never bother me Imre.” She looks to you and says, “bye.” She quietly shuts the door in your face. <<elseif $sammyq3 >>\ “Oh,” she says. She looks at Imre quickly and then back at you. “Sorry, I thought Imre would be... but lines? No I didn't see his body. Only my dad did and actually—“ “What?” you ask impatiently. Amanda raises her eyebrows at your attitude. “He said that he thought it was satanists that killed him. Maybe he saw the marks you're talking about?” “Maybe,” you respond. Imre asks, “what are the police doing about this?” Amanda looks behind her shoulder, “look you guys have to go.” Imre rolls his tongue behind his cheek but he still smiles at her, “understood. Thank you for answering $name's question and sorry for disturbing you.” Amanda blushes, “you never bother me Imre.” She looks to you and says, “bye.” She quietly shuts the door in your face. <<elseif $sammynoq >>\ Amanda looks dreamily at Imre while Imre looks expectantly at you. You shrug and even though he gives you a strange look he speaks, “Amanda do you know anything about the investigative proceedings?” Amanda shakes her head. “Not really my dad was getting mad though. He said the police wanted to close the case already.” Imre raises his eyebrows at this, “did they give a reason?” “They said that it was obviously an accident.” “An accident,” Imre repeats pensively. You watch his face. He looks at nothing for a moment then asks, “why was your brother out so late?” Amanda looks behind her shoulder, “look you guys have to go.” Imre rolls his tongue behind his cheek but he still smiles at her, “understood. Thank you for answering $name's question and sorry for disturbing you.” Amanda blushes, “you never bother me Imre.” She looks to you and says, “bye.” She quietly shuts the door in your face. <</if>> Imre turns away from the door and watches a few steps towards the steps. Instead of taking them he leans against the railing. You come up next to him. He has a thoughful look on his face. He slowly turns to you, seeing how you're studying him. “Why did you come with me?” he asks. The question surprises you so much it must show on your face because he almost smiles. “I wanted to see what the Palmers would say,” you reply. “Is that the only reason?” he asks innocently. You look towards the street and think of your response. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I guess I wanted to spend time with you.”|One-off2][$Foff to true]] * [[♡ “Because I'm so fucking in love with you.”|One-off2][$Aoff to true]] * [[⟡ “You're fun and you're a good investigative partner.”|One-off2][$Poff to true]] * [[You ignore him and go to the car.|One-off2][$Noff to true]] </h3>

<h3>You and Lorcan are sitting on the curb when Imre's car stops by you. Standing up, you ask, “was he happy with what you gave him?” “More than. While I was gone I called the Palmer's and their daughter told me that everyone was going to sleep early,” Imre tells. <<set $boys2 to true>> Lorcan comes up next to you. “So what are we going to do?” Imre closes his eyes, “we can't go there now. And I don't know when we'd all be able to so I got officer Karras talking.” You lean down at the passenger window, folding your arms on the sill and ask, “did he tell you what killed Sammy?” <<audio "rock" loop play>> He shakes his head. “I couldn't press him too much but he did say that they're looking to declare it an accident, likely a wild animal.” “That's presumptive,” you state. “And suspicious.” “Ok, so we fucking wasted the day but got something. Why don't we celebrate by going to Alice's? The day's still youngish,” Lorcan suggests while stretching. Imre frowns, “you just want me to buy you a drink.” Lorcan smiles sarcastically, “of course not I would never take advantage of youuu. Anyway don't you want a drink?” “What do you say?” Imre asks you. Lorcan also looks at you. <hr>\ * [[“I have nothing better to do.”->Pub]] * [[“I should go home.”]] </h3>

<h3>“I'll drive you,” Imre offers. <<audio "rock" stop>> You see how quickly the sun is going down. “Ok.” Lorcan slides into the back, “but like after we drop $himher off we're still going to Alice's right?” “Yes,” Imre reassures him with an eyeroll. As the car moves you think back to what Imre said about the ruling the police is thinking of doing for Sammy, barely twenty-four hours after his death. “Do you...,” you start and Imre glances at you, “do you think that other missing girls, older ones I mean, were also ruled as accidents or such? Ones that aren't on the board at the station?” Imre glances at the road and then at you, a pensive look on his face. “Are you suggesting we look into older cases?” You hum in agreement. “The thing is I don't know where to look, the archives?” “Jesus,” Lorcan curses from the back, when you look to him he says, “you're part of the founding family. Your family history is tied to this town, if any place might tell us about other girls it's probably your house.” Imre seems to agree with the look he gives you. “There's a lot of old stuff in the attic,” you say. And by the expression in Imre's face, you gather all three of you are going into your house. [[NEXT|Page 279]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan side-eyes you as you come up and move to stand a bit behind him. <<if $shotsT >>\ “Did me sharing a shot with you make you think I want you near me?” he says. “Not everything has to do with you,” you reply, a bit unsteady on your feet. Lorcan scoffs but keeps practicing throwing the dart. <<elseif $shotsL >>\ “Did me sharing a shot with you make you think I want you near me?” he says. “Not everything has to do with you,” you reply, “and I didn't drink.” Lorcan scoffs but keeps practicing throwing the dart. <<elseif $pooli >>\ “Let me guess, pretty boy is boring? I knew it,” he says smugly. “And you're the fun one?” you ask sarcastically. “Yeah and that's why you're here,” he retorts. Lorcan practices shooting the dart. <</if>>\ “Don't distract me.” “I'm literally just standing here.” “Can't you go and bug literally anyone ELSE?” he says and throws the dart. It misses the mark by a hair. <<set $dartsL to true>> Lorcan lets out an exasperated sigh and swivels to you, “you see?” “Maybe you aren't as great as you thought,” you reply, eyeing the dart board. Lorcan narrows his eyes, “I'm fucking amazing.” You go to take the dart out. Moving it between your fingers you say, “I've never played.” Lorcan takes the dart from your hands, “well I'm not teaching you.” <hr>\ * [[♥️ “Please?”|Darts][$Fdarts to true]] * [[♡ “I could wipe the floor with your ass.”|Darts][$Adarts to true]] * [[⟡ “I'll give you five bucks.”|Darts][$Pdarts to true]] </h3>

<h3>When you come over to the pool table, Imre's chalking up his cue. “So you came to play a round?” Imre asks.<<if $shotsT>> “You're either in a good mood or that shot has loosened you up a bit.”<<elseif $shotsL>> “The beer must've done you good.”<<elseif $darts>> “I saw you there with Lorcan, let me guess, he was a dick?” You shrug, “it wasn't that bad.”<</if>> You look at the colorful balls in the middle of the table. “I've never played it before.” Imre grins, “that's actually great. I love teaching people things, and it will be an easy win for me.” <<set $pooli to true>> You scoff, “you're pretty sure of yourself.” Imre slowly takes off the triangle holding the balls in place, “it's easy to be sure when it's the truth my dear $name.” He goes over to the other side of the table and studies you for a second, “or we can get one of these people to play and I would... //guide// you.” The way the word 'guide' slips off his tongue sounds oddly suggestive. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I wouldn't mind being guided.”|Pool][$Fpool to true]] * [[♡ “Someone needs to wipe that smug like on your face. I'll do it.”|Pool][$Apool to true]] * [[⟡ “Maybe I'll watch you play and then play myself?”|Pool][$Ppool to true]] </h3>

<h3>You cut your way through the crowd and sit down at the end of the bar. The chair pivots a bit to the side. A leg must be shorter than the other. Alice, with her trademark purple afro comes to you, wiping down a glass. “As I live and breathe, never thought I'd see the youngest Crown here,” she says in her raspy voice.<<set $shots to true>> You place your hand on the bar and quickly withdraw it when your feel the sticky mess of beers of yesterday and everyday past since the bar opened. “Yeah I didn't think I would ever come here either,” you reply. Alice nods. She puts the glass under the counter. “I have to say I'm really sorry about your sister, I know you two didn't get along but it must've been hard on your family, her passing,” she laments. You don't say anything to that. “Anyway what can I get ya?” That's the thing about Alice's. She won't let you get shitfaced here while you're underage but she does allow one or two drinks. You look at the table behind her full of hard liquors which she definitely won't let you touch.<<if $vice is 'drinking'>> Not as if you don't have some nice brandy in your flask anyway.<<elseif $vice is not 'drinking'>> Not like you'd even really want to.”<</if>> You look around to see anything resembling a menu. “You can get what your brother Percy gets. A stout,” she offers. “What do you have for like beer?” you ask. “Oh we have all loads,” she says, “stouts, lagers, IPAs, ales.” You scratch your head. <hr>\ * [[“Stout.”|Beer][$stout to true]] * [[“Lager.”|Beer][$lager to true]] * [[“IPA.”|Beer][$IPA to true]] * [[“Ale.”|Beer][$ale to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Fdarts >>\ Lorcan does a double take when he hears that word leave your lips. The look quickly transforms into irritated confusion. “Did someone hit you with a bat today on the head?” he asks. You lips quiver into a smile, “I'm being nice to you, sue me.” Lorcan expression remains the same but he hands you the dart. He moves to stand behind you. “Ok,” he says by your ear. You feel a pang in your stomach as his breath tickles your neck. You wait for him to continue and your hand flinches when you feel his fingers brush against yours. Lorcan makes a noise and steps away. He looks away from you so you can't see him. “Nope this isn't gonna work. I can't fucking—“ He rubs the back of his head, messing up his already messy blond locks. “Just put the dart up to your eye-level, plant your feet apart and—“ he stops and moves next to you to show you. You plant your feet apart. “Open them a bit more,” he instructs. You do and lift the dart up. Lorcan touches the end of the dart and moves to the side of your eye. “Keep your grip stable.” “When you throw it bring it back to you then throw it forward but make sure you're only moving your arm not your whole body.” He demonstrates the throwing motion. You narrow in on the bullseye and throw it like he showed you. The sharp end sticks right into the red eye. “Yes!“ you exclaim, clasping your hands in a prayer motion. Lorcan goes to fetch the dart. He isn't smiling but if the light in the room doesn't deceive you there's no displeasure in his eyes. “Not half bad,” he concedes. You hit his arm playfully. He then throws it and it hits the bullseye. He hands it to you and although you miss this time he doesn't make fun of you. It's light. A moment in time where there's not that usual tension there that a fight will break out. <<elseif $Adarts >>\ Lorcan scowls, “yeah? Then fucking do it then.” He moves aside and you take your place in front of the dartboard. As you bring the dart up Lorcan taunts, “that is such a bad stance. Shit you're actually going to embarass yourself huh? It is like the only way you can get attention.” “Not as embarrassing as it must be for you to look in the mirror everyday,” you jeer. “Not as embarrassing as it must've been for your family to be seen in public with you,” he retorts. “Not as embarrassing as it must've been for you to be born,” you sass. “Not as embarrassing as it must've have been—“ “CAN YOU TWO JUST MAKEOUT ALREADY AND SHUT UP?” A woman sitting at a table near your interrupts with an angry face. You and Lorcan exchange glances and then turn towards her with glares. “Shut the fuck up lady,” Lorcan insults. “Yeah just drink you're fucking cheap beer, limp home and barf on yourself,” you add. “Yeah,” Lorcan agrees. The lady rolls her eyes, mutters something and moves to another table. The moment she sits down somewhere else, Lorcan and you look at each other. You can't help but let out a laugh. Lorcan's lips quiver and it seems like he wants to laugh too. Instead he says, “aren't you apparently gonna wipe the floor with me Crowny?” You smirk and reply, “uh duh. You should thank me, at least now because I humillated that woman you're the second biggest loser here tonight.” “Oh really?” he asks sarcastically, a light in his eyes. And you don't remember if you get the shot. You don't remember if Lorcan gets his shot in the bullseye either. You just spend however long it takes until Imre comes looking for you both, insulting each other. How odd that in doing that you think you've never had more fun. <<elseif $Pdarts >>\ Lorcan hands you back the dart. “Now we're talking.” He grabs your arm and positions you in front of the dartboard. Coming up beside you he plants his feet apart, “do this.” You do and then he lifts his arm up, his fingers pinched for his invisible dart. “The most important part is to eye the bullseye and not whip it, you whip it and it'll probably not hit. It's like flicking your wrist,” he instructs. You follow his motion, pulling the dart back to you and moving your arm forward and then going back to practice again. “Throw it already other people want to use the darts,” a male says sitting at the bar. Lorcan wipes his head around and glares at the man, “hey buddy why don't you shut the fuck up?” “Why don't you two little kids go home, it's passed your bedtime,” the man snickers. Lorcan makes to go to him, surely to beat the shit out of him and get you kicked out. You grab his jacket sleeve and pull him back. He glares at you and tries to pry your hand off. “He's trying to provoke you, don't fall for it,” you say sternly. “I'm not gonna let that dick talk shit,” Lorcan fumes. “And you won't just wait,” you advise him in a low tone. Speaking to the man you say, “hey why don't you come up here and show us how's it done?” The man looks surprised but at the goading of his friends he pushes himself away from the bar and walks over to you with heavy footsteps. Shoving you aside he takes the a dart and makes to throw it. You whisper to Lorcan and point. As the man moves his arm forward, <<cycle '$trip' autoselect>><<option 'you lightly tap the back of his knee.'>><<option 'Lorcan taps the back of his knee.'>><</cycle>> The dart leaves his hand and flies... flies... flies... and hits embeds into the wall next to the dartboard. The man's friend's laugh and he turns furiously around. “Which one you litt;e shits did that?” You look innocently at Lorcan, “I have no idea what he's talking about, do you?” Lorcan vigorously shakes his head, “not a fucking clue. You might be losing it old man.” The man shoulders Lorcan aside and stalks back to his friends. Lorcan looks at you and his lips are twitching. You roll your eyes, “you can laugh you know. It won't be the end of the world.” Lorcan lightly punches you on the arm. “Come on let's play.” And you do. <</if>> <<if $pooli >>You don't see Imre looking at you two from across the bar.<<elseif not $pooli>>After a while you think of what else you could do.<</if>> <hr>\ <<if not $pooli>>* [[Play pool with Imre.]]<<elseif $pooli >>*== Play pool with Imre.==<</if>>\ <<if not $shots>>* [[Drink a beer at the bar.]]<<elseif $shots >>*==Drink a beer at the bar.==<</if>>\ <<if $pooli >>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<<elseif $shots >>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Fpool >>\ Imre's eyes seem to grow... hot, at least if the lights in the bar aren't deceiving you. He scatters the balls with his cue. His grin grows wolfish as he moves from the other end of the table next to you. Without a word Imre places his hands on your hips, gente and featherlight but it feels like hot ovens mitts pressing against your clothes and seeping into your skin. In a low tone, he instructs you to, “bend over.” “What?” you ask, panicked. He chuckles in that same tone.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> “Bend over the edge of the table nena.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> “Bend over the edge of the table nene.”<</if>> You gulp, “oh.” But as his fingers try to move your hips back you freeze. People don't touch you like this. And you're in public.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Guys and girls probably touch like this in this place all the time but you aren't used to it.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> You're two guys. You already see the men and some women around you giving your display odd looks.<</if>> “Now,” he commands faintly. Drawing you back into his clutches, your body loosens and Imre is able to force you back, then slide his hand up your back and press you down. Your head buzzes as your ass grazes the front of his pants. “Now hold the top of the cue,” he takes one hand off your hip and grabs your hand, placing it there and guiding your pointer with his. “With your other hand, take hold of the end of the cue, stretch as much as you can.” You do so. “So good,” he whispers. Your eyes flicker and your mouth feels dry, you can't even swallow anymore. “Now make sure the cue is between your pointer finger and your middle finger.” “Ok,” he says, “don't hit it too hard. Aim for the cue to hit the middle of the ball. Aim too low and the ball will jump.” Hands firmly back on your hips, his breath caresses your ear when he commands, “now.” You bring the pool cue back slightly and push it forward, the cue hits the middle of the ball which hits the other end of the table, bounces off the side and flies to the pocket closest to you. Imre's laugh moves the small hairs on your ear, “well done.” He straightens up and takes his hands off of you. You follow him, still bent over the table as he picks up another cue. “Now we can play,” he states nonchalantly. You stand up, your face too hot, made hotter by the lights. Imre chuckles as he sees your expression, his face and countenance as always. You push back a growing unpleasant thump in your chest and play. <<if $dartsL >>You briefly look up to see Lorcan from across the room, frowning. When you give him a questioning look he looks away. Despite the initial distraction Imre taught you well enough that it's pretty fun for the next hour going against him.<<elseif not $dartsL>>Despite the initial distraction Imre taught you well enough that it's pretty fun for the next hour going against him.<</if>> <<elseif $Apool >>\ Imre titters and shakes his head, looking down at the colorful balls on the table. “And what will you give me if I win?” Your eye twitches, “what?” He places the cue on the table, then lays his hands down on the edge, staring intently at you. A enigmantic smile on his face. “We have to have some stakes, don't we? Depending on who wins, the other with be obliged to give something as a reward.” You let out a complicated sound, something that almost sounds like a laugh while also some incredulity. “I don't have to give you shit.” “Don't tell me you're frightened?” he asks, amusement growing in his eyes. You glare at him. “That reverse psychology crap won't work on me. I just now much of a fucking pervert you are so I don't trust you to not make me suck your dick or something,” you accuse. Imre blinks, at lost for words. Then he throws his head back and laughs. Your irritation grows, “what's so funny?” Imre just continues laughing. You walk over to his side of the table and stop when your chest is inches away from his body. “What's so fucking funny?” you repeat, fuming. Imre's face is all mirth. Placing one hand on the table, he turns towards you, his chest almost grazing yours. Smiling down at you Imre replies, “it was just unexpected. Apart from that I would never ask you to do something like that to me.” For some reason this makes you even more angry. “What am I not good enough? You think you're such hot shit don't you? I'll have you know you'd only be so lucky!“ you spit in his face. You try to leave but Imre grabs your wrist and twirls you back to him. His traps your hand in between your chests and leans in the tip of his nose lightly touching yours. You try to jerk away but he grabs the back of your neck. He's no longer smiling. His eyes ablaze, he says, “I said I wouldn't ask you for oral sex. I didn't say I wouldn't ask you for something else.” He moves his mouth closer to yours. //Oh god!//, your head screams. People are watching you can feel their eyes on your back.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> There's people that probably make out here all the time but it's likely fodder for gossip if it's you two.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Two guys kissing in here would probably start some talk that you wouldn't enjoy.<Even Imre, being who he is wouldn't escape the disapproval.<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>There's people that probably make out here all the time but it's likely fodder for gossip if it's you two. You know you're not the type of person he goes for.<</if>> Your mouth clamps shut and you shove him away. Face burning you speed walk away from him. Looking back you see him looking at you, an arrogant smile back on his face. <<if $dartsL >>You briefly look up when you pass the dart board where Lorcan still stands, frowning. When you give raise your eyebrow at him, your expression still embarrassed and angry he just looks away. You go into the bathroom and splash water on your face until it's cooled down.<<elseif not $dartsL>>embarrassed and angry you go into the bathroom and splash water on your face until it's cooled down.<</if>> <<elseif $Ppool >>\ Imre hums. “That's a good idea, you can pick up on some of strategies too.” “Ohhhhh,” you reply cheerfully, “you would let me see your tricks? I'm flattered, honored even.” Imre chuckles, “don't let it get to your head. I can't have people knowing I have favorites, I have a lot of other friends you know.” You nod exaggeratedly, “rrright. We're friends now huh? Two peas in a pod. Birds of a feather. Two pigs in poke. Joined at the hip. Two halves of the same whole.” “I'm ignoring you now,” Imre says and waves someone over to play with him. “We go together like 'paranoid' and 'schizophrenic',” you jest. Imre sighs, a smile playing on his lips. A man takes a cue and walks to the other side of the table. You watch Imre's movements as he leans down and juts his lower half back. You watch the way his fingers place themselves on the cue. You note the areas his eyes roam. The way he brings the cue back and then forward to see where it will hit once he releases it. The balls scatter all around the table, most stop shy of entering any pocket but one does. “Shit,” Imre says. “What? Isn't that a good thing?” He shakes his head. “It's the white ball, when that happens that gives the other guy a chance to put a ball with his hand wherever on the table. It's called a scratch.” The other man lightly nudges a ball towards a pocket and makes his shot, which he miss. Imre moves around the table angling himself to get an advantageous position to hit a ball near to a pocket but at a weird angle where it can easily just bounce off the side. Imre does something, you can't describe but it looks uncomfortable, stretching himself over the table. He hits the ball and it bounces off the side, but keeps going, hitting a few balls and then falling right into the pocket. He grins and looks at you, “you better take notes.” You watch them play until Imre hits one final ball and the other man puts his cue on the table. Imre extends his hand out and the man shakes it. “It's over?” you ask. “Yes. Do you want to play?” You take the cue the man left and roll some chalk on it's tip, “be careful, I saw all your tricks, and like a good student I must use them against my master.” Imre smiles and sets the balls in the triangle holder, “betrayal from a student is the best evidence of the master's skills.” Imre lifts the triangle up and you waste no time in getting in the position you saw him in and shooting. Eventually Imre wins but you shake hands, both of you having had a good time with each other. Turns out, you're not so bad at making new friends. <if $dartsL >>You briefly look up to see Lorcan from across the room, frowning. When he sees you looking back at him he turns away.<<elseif not $dartsL>>And you've learned a new skill.<</if>> <hr>\ <<if $darts >>* ==Play darts with Lorcan.==<<elseif not $darts>>* [[Play darts with Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ <<if not $shots>>* [[Drink a beer at the bar.]]<<elseif $shots>>*==Drink a beer at the bar.==<</if>>\ <<if $darts>>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<<elseif $shots >>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“What kind?” she asks. You give her a blink stare. “Ok, I'll just surprise you.” <<if $stout >>\ You tap your fingers against your leg. The man next to you accidentally grazes your elbow with his and withdraws. He does throw you an apologetic smile. Alice comes back with a tall glass full of dark liquid that reminds you of soda. She waits for you to lift the glass to your lips and sip. You make a face, smacking your lips. “Hmmm,” you sound. “How is it?” Alice asks, hand on her hip. You roll your lips, trying to understand the flavour. “It tastes... kind of like dark chocolate, I think.” She nods, “an Imperial stout. Very good choice.” You assent, not bothering to correct her about the fact that it was her who chose it. “Alice!“ a voice calls from the other end of the bar and she gives them an annoyed reaction before going to them. <<elseif $lager >>\ You tap your fingers against your leg. The man next to you accidentally grazes your elbow with his and withdraws. He does throw you an apologetic smile. Alice comes back with a tall glass liquid that almost looks like piss. She waits for you to lift the glass to your lips and sip. You make a face, smacking your lips. “Hmmm,” you sound. “How is it?” Alice asks, hand on her hip. You roll your lips, trying to understand the flavour. “It tastes... uh, like beer, it's sharp.” She nods, “a pilsner. Not so bad of a choice.” You assent, not bothering to correct her about the fact that it was her who chose it. “Alice!“ a voice calls from the other end of the bar and she gives them an annoyed reaction before going to them. <<elseif $IPA >>\ You tap your fingers against your leg. The man next to you accidentally grazes your elbow with his and withdraws. He does throw you an apologetic smile. Alice comes back with a tall glass liquid that reminds you of apple juice. She waits for you to lift the glass to your lips and sip. You make a face, smacking your lips. “Hmmm,” you sound. “How is it?” Alice asks, hand on her hip. You roll your lips, trying to understand the flavour. “It's kind of... fruity? Maybe some lemons or something.” She nods, “a New England IPA. For a first timer you're selection ain't so bad.” You assent, not bothering to correct her about the fact that it was her who chose it. “Alice!“ a voice calls from the other end of the bar and she gives them an annoyed reaction before going to them. <<elseif $ale >>\ You tap your fingers against your leg. The man next to you accidentally grazes your elbow with his and withdraws. He does throw you an apologetic smile. Alice comes back with a tall glass liquid that reminds you of cold coffee She waits for you to lift the glass to your lips and sip. You make a face, smacking your lips. “Hmmm,” you sound. “How is it?” Alice asks, hand on her hip. You roll your lips, trying to understand the flavour. “Reminds me of... coffee I guess and maybe smoke?” She nods, “a classic robust and smoke porter. You have some refined tastes.” You assent, not bothering to correct her about the fact that it was her who chose it. “Alice!“ a voice calls from the other end of the bar and she gives them an annoyed reaction before going to them. <</if>> You slowly sip on your beer, occasionally grasping bits of conversation. It's so interesting what people living in normal situations with other people say. //“She was flirting with me, I swear on my mother.”// //“Bullshit, a hot babe like that has better options than an old fart like you.”// //“He wants the reports in by Monday but the computer is a bitch to work.”// //“Oh we're better than ever I think a reconciliation is in the air.”// //“Is it me or the weather getting super fucking cold for no reason?”// The beer is tasting much better than you initially thought. “Fancy come company?” a voice says by your elbow. Imre's friendly eyes look back at you. As if by magic, the man sitting next to you slides off his chair and cedes it to the boy. Imre looks at the selection on the rack and waves Alice over. A papertowel slides over her hands and you notice a wedding band. “What can I get for you darling?” the cheerfulness pours from her voice. She only uses that tone with him and Imre reciprocates in kind. “I'm craving something quicker and stronger for tonight Alice. How about...” he taps his chin, “a shot of tequila?” He looks at you, “do you want one?” “Are you buying?” you ask. He makes an affirmative sound. “So will you do a shot with me?” “You're buying? Count me in then,” Lorcan randomly appears at your left. Imre grins sarcastically, “the offer was only for $name.” Lorcan looks at Alice. “Three shots on his tab,” he jerks a thumb to Imre. Alice goes to fetch them. Imre's smile turns a bit more amused, “I'd ask you to pay me back but I'll be waiting for years for you to give me a dollar.” Lorcan chuckles, equally sarcastic. “Hey, as long as I get a free drink I don't give a fuck if you insult me you classist bitch.” You take two huges gulps of your beer and are surprised when you set it down and see it's empty. Alice comes back with a tray of three small shot glasses, a slice of lime on top of each. Setting them down in front of each of you she leaves to attend another customer. Imre picks up his glass, taking out the lime. Imre does the same and they hold them up. They both look at you. You... <hr>\ * [[Take a shot.|Drink][$shotsT to true]] * [[Toast with them but don't drink.|Drink][$shotsL to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Foff >>\ He blinks, for a moment he looks a bit alarmed. “Is that right?” His eyes attach themselves firmly to yours and you get an urge to look away but you resist. “Does that bother you?” your voice is softer than you intended. His face is stern, perhaps grave. You said something wrong. Of course you did. That's why he's looking at you like that. Stupid. Idiot. Fuck-up. The corner of his mouth rises, “not at all. Your... honesty merely surprised me.” “A good surprised?” His lips stretch open even more. “A great one I would say. Missing valuable time with the Palmer's was worth it for this.” You look down at your hands and you hear him chuckle. Your ears feel warm. You feel him looking at you a bit longer. “Come on, let's go collect that odd boy and discuss our next step.” He waves you ahead of him and you go, feeling his eyes on you the whole way. <<elseif $Aoff >>\ For a second his eyes widen, a slight unbalancing that is quickly wiped away but you saw it and it gives you a warm sense of satisfaction. “Be careful, you joke but you might find your words come back to, what's the saying?” He places his finger on his chin and pretends to think really hard, “ah yes... bite you in the ass.” You snort and give him the finger, “how does the saying go? Ah yes... sit and spin.” Imre grins. “How uncouth. You have a tendency of saying rude things to cover up your true feelings. Alas you're mistaken if you can do that to me,” he comes closer. He looks down at you, his proximity forcing your back to touch the banister. However, you don't show any reaction to his action, he wants you to be a nervous wreck. “Oh I'm soooo scared. What are you going to do? Hit me?” you goad. Imre's grin turns sharper from this angle. His hands remain in his pockets. You're eyes keep flashing down to them, awaiting from them to grab you, hit you, slap you, punch you. You don't know if your anticipation is out of apprehension or desire. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I could. I think you'd like it. But I like to take a woman out of a date before hurting them like //that//,” he tempts. He makes a simple word like 'that' sound obscene.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I could. I think you'd like it. But I like to take a man out of a date before hurting them like //that//,” he tempts. He makes a simple word like 'that' sound obscene.<</if>> You clear your throat and smirk, “well keep dreaming because that's the only way that's ever going to happen casanova.” Imre smiles and looks down at his shoes. “We'll pick up this conversation another time, in the meantime we should go pick up Lorcan and discuss where we go from here.” He waves you ahead of him and you go, you look over your shoulder and find him looking at you intently but you're unbothered. <<elseif $Poff >>\ Imre smiles wide, “you mean that?” You nod. “Honestly? Being here and doing this stuff with you is the highlight of most of my days. So thanks even though it's an unintentional thing made by the investigaiton.” Imre looks down the porch floor and then at the street in front. “It's nice though isn't it? To just do something proactive together? With nothing but joy out of doing it?” You assent. “I didn't even know I'd like this but it's very...” “— vivacious? Exhilirating? Insouciant?” he asks. “Woah,” you put your hands up, “let's put down the thesaurus.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Lively, how about that?” “Much better. It's just me y'know. You don't need to be Imre Duran, the intellectual giant I won't mind,” you confess. He makes a mocked shocked face, “me? Put on performances? Is that what you're saying? I would never.” You shove him playful towards the stairs, “let's go find Lorcan before he gets into trouble partner.” <<elseif $Noff >>\ “Ugh God,” you reply in monotone and walk to the car. Imre follows behind, the set of his jaw tightening. Once he gets in the car he says, “even though you're manners are lacking, I'll still have the courtesy of telling you we're going to see Lorcan and decide what next steps we need to take.” You don't respond to that either and Imre's grips the steering wheel, switching on the engine and jerking abruptly away from the curb, pushing you roughly to the left. You make a noise and look at him accusatorily. His jaw is relaxed. <</if>>\ [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] </h3>

<h3><<if $shotsT >>\ You lift up your small glass, take the lime in one hand and you three bring clink your glasses together. “To our failed investigative efforts,” Imre exultes. “Amen to that,” Lorcan celebrates. “Cheers,” you reply and down your drink.<<if $vice is 'drinking'>> It scorches your throat as it goes down. You're used to the burn but brandy and tequila are different tunes.<<elseif not $vice 'drinking'>> It scorches your throat as it goes down.<</if>> “Fuck,” you swear. You bite into the lime, the sour taste overidding the chemical bitterness. <<set $pic to true>> Imre sucks the lime with a calm face, meanwhile Lorcan hits the bar with his fist, his face scrunched up. You put the lime back in the shot and flash distracts you. You look up to see Alice lowering a polaroid camera from her face. “I hope you took something flattering,” Imre jokes. “Do we have to pay for that?” Lorcan asks at the same time. Alice takes the picture out from the camera and waves it. “On the house,” she says and puts the picture on the counter. You take it and hold it up. It's slow in coming but you can almost make out your faces in black and white. Imre and Lorcan inch closer to you to see it. In the picture you're looking down but your face is visible. Imre is looking at the camera, his fingers keeping the lime in his mouth and Lorcan has his eyes pressed tightly closed. “We almost look happy to be together,” you sarcasm. “Blegh,” Lorcan says and wipes at his mouth, “tear it up.” He leaves to go back to the darts. Imre moves the picture to see it clearly. “Keep it, it's a nice night.” He goes back to the pool tables. <<elseif $shotsL >>\ You lift up your small glass, take the lime in one hand and you three bring clink your glasses together. “To our failed investigative efforts,” Imre exultes. “Amen to that,” Lorcan celebrates. “Cheers,” you reply.<<if $vice is 'drinking'>> God knows you're not above drinking but you prefer doing it alone and from your brandy.<<elseif not $vice 'drinking'>> You prefer not to get shitfaced tonight.<</if>> Imre sucks the lime with a calm face, meanwhile Lorcan hits the bar with his fist, his face scrunched up. Setting the glass down a flash distracts you. You look up to see Alice lowering a polaroid camera from her face. “I hope you took something flattering,” Imre jokes. “Do we have to pay for that?” Lorcan asks at the same time. Alice takes the picture out from the camera and waves it. “On the house,” she says and puts the picture on the counter. You take it and hold it up. It's slow in coming but you can almost make out your faces in black and white. Imre and Lorcan inch closer to you to see it. In the picture you're looking down but your face is visible. Imre is looking at the camera, his fingers keeping the lime in his mouth and Lorcan has his eyes pressed tightly closed. “We almost look happy to be together,” you sarcasm. “Blegh,” Lorcan says and wipes at his mouth, “tear it up.” He leaves to go back to the darts. <<set $pic to true>> Imre moves the picture to see it clearly. “Keep it, it's a nice night.” He goes back to the pool tables. <</if>> <hr>\ <<if $darts >>* ==Play darts with Lorcan.==<<elseif not $dart>>* [[Play darts with Lorcan.]]<</if>>\ <<if not $pooli>>* [[Play pool with Imre.]]<<elseif $pooli >>*== Play pool with Imre.==<</if>>\ <<if $darts >>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<<elseif $pooli >>* [[Call it a night.->Sammy-3(16)]]<</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $fakedatingImre >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Why are you guys acting so fucking weird?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “youuuuu ttwwwwoooo aaarrreeee aacccttttiiinnnngggg wwweeeiiirrrddd.” You shrug, “I don't think we are.” Lorcan scoffs, “something totally happened when you went to go see that lady, didn't it?” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “and why is that your business?” “It's my business because if things get weird between you guys then they'll fuck up the investigation and I don't wanna be involved in some lover's spat,” he explains. You snort, “lover's spat? Why did you get that out of? A Jane Austen book?” Lorcan ignores you. “All I'm saying is keep it in your pants.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif not $fakedatingImre>>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “So how was he?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “hhhooowwww wwwwaaaaasssss hhhhheeeeee?” You give him a strange look, “yeah I heard but I don't understand what that means. He was like he always is.” Lorcan bites his nail, “well then that's shit.” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “look I don't know what your issue with Imre is but it's not my problem ok?” Lorcan retorts, “it will be.” Before you can answer him he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 279]] </h3>

<h3><<if $lift>>\ “Yeah,” you say and go to them. Imre holds onto her torso while you lift her feet, making sure to touch the bleeding wound nor let it get on you. Your mother is heavier than someone who looks emaciated should be. You move slowly down the hall, grunting when the ache in your arms turn hot. When you reach the door of her room, Imre temporarily let's go off her to open it and you and Lorcan nearly drop her. He throws the door open and you waddle to turn her sideways. Working quickly you manage to lay her on the bed before your arms give out. She goes down a bit unceremoniously which makes her do one of her noises. You see her eyes flutter while her chest gently rises and falls. “Jesus,” Lorcan plugs his nose. You sniff and realize that she reeks. Not only from the body odor a person gets from weeks of stewing in the same clothes but also the alcohol. It's not only her breath, it's as if her entire being exuded it. Imre makes a disgusted face, “not right now but someone should bathe her. Perhaps someone from the staff?” You don't tell him that financially your family can't even afford food that isn't from the dollar store. “Definitely,” you promise. <<elseif not $lift>>\ “I'm not strong enough,” you say. Imre gives you a certain look that you can't place but says nothing in reply. Imre lifts her feet and grimaces heavily when her bloody foot stains his shirt. //What has she ever done for you?// Lorcan grunts as he and Imre move slowly down the hall. Imre makes no noise but beads of sweat form on his forehead. You wonder where all the weight goes if she looks like she hasn't eaten in a month. You follow after the boys and when they reach the room you throw it open for them. They lay her down gently on her bed. She smacks her lips and moves her arms along the covers. You see her eyes flutter while her chest gently rises and falls. “Jesus,” Lorcan plugs his nose. You sniff and realize that she reeks. Not only from the body odor a person gets from weeks of stewing in the same clothes but also the alcohol. It's not only her breath, it's as if her entire being exuded it. Imre makes a disgusted face, “not right now but someone should bathe her. Perhaps someone from the staff?” You don't tell him that financially your family can't even afford food that isn't from the dollar store. You just sigh. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 281]] </h3>

<h3>“Lorcan go get a first aid kit,” Imre instructs, snapping his fingers. Lorcan snaps his fingers in Imre's face, “I'm not a dog. Why can't you do that?” “Do you want to clean up the wound?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. Lorcan tsks and asks you, “where's the first aid?” “In the bathroom under the sink,” you say absentmindedly as you look around the room. <<audio "stephanie" loop play>> Lorcan leaves and Imre sits down at the edge of the bed. He slowly lifts up your mother's foot and checks it. He touches the beginning of the cut near her big toe and she hisses. You stand in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do with yourself. It's an unusual place for you to be in. Your mother hardly allowed you in here and even though she's probably not aware you're here, the very air of the room feels //heavy.// Your eyes dart to the door. Ten years ago you there was an incident here. You think someone got stabbed, maybe... your remember your head hurt a lot some perhaps you hit yourself? It's one of the more fuzzier moments of your childhood. Huh, you remember all leading to it and the immediate aftermath when the ambulance came. But you've never had time to actually look around. The room is filthy. There are different types of filth, the kind Percy has is a basic messiness you find in most boy's rooms. This room is the chaos of inner turmoil. You go to... <hr>\ * [[The pictures.|Page 282A]] * [[The drawers.|Page 282B]] * [[The closet.|Page 282C]] * [[The vanity.|Page 282D]] </h3>

<h3><<set $docs to true>>\ You go to a random drawer under the vanity and when you pull it open you see a singular wooden box. Sitting down on the chair of the vanity, you lay it on your lap. Lifting up the lid you only see a series of papers. Documents. On the top there's your regular bills, receipts, you open your mother's passport. You come upon what looks like a letter from someone who wanted to purchase the manor. A stranger from Winchester and below that letter is another in your father's handwriting declining in no uncertain terms. That he would //'die before selling my familial home.'// Your parents' marriage certificate. Dated May 28th 1971. The witness for your mother was her sister and for your father it was.... Mayor Duran. You look up to see his son reading a book he picked up from God knows where. You go to the bottom on the box and pull out another letter addressed to your mother from her sister: //'Sweetheart, I know you're angry. I can never undo what I did. But I beg you to remember that we're sisters. No one will ever love you more than I do. I did a horrible thing but is it worth ruining everything? I'm worried for you. If you won't talk to me, at least talk to Yasmine. She's the only person in that town that seems to be awake. If you must be angry, please be angry for only a while. Two years. After that, write to me.'// The letter isn't dated but it looks old. You wonder what terrible thing your aunt did. Your mother never talked about her and she would fall into a rage unlike you ever saw when your father brought her up in passing. //But I beg you to remember that we're sisters.//<<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You always thought that the idea that sisters were close was a myth, but you wonder if you and your sister had said those words to each other, would it have changed anything?<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> You don't know if brothers and sisters have the same type of connection like two sisters but you wonder if you and your sister had said similar words to each other, would it have changed anything?<</if>> You search for any other letter but come up with nothing. You put the box away and think of what else to do while you have the chance. <hr>\ * ==The drawers.== <<if not $frames>>* [[The pictures.|Page 282A]]<<elseif $frames>>* ==The pictures.==<</if>> <<if not $closet>>* [[The closet.|Page 282C]]<<elseif $closet>>* ==The closet.==<</if>> <<if not $vanity>>* [[The vanity.|Page 282D]]<<elseif $vanity>>* ==The vanity.==<</if>> * [[Don't look at anything else.|Page 283]] </h3>

<h3>As you walk back to the bed, Imre snaps the book he was reading shut and looks up at you before turning to see Lorcan come through the door. “Did you go the pharmacy to get it?” Imre chastises. Lorcan throws him the first aid kit and replies, “that shit wasn't in the bathroom.” He scowls at you as if you moved it on purpose to fuck with him. Imre zips open the red pouch and lifts your mother's foot onto his lap. Lorcan's nose wrinkles as Imre cleans the cut with a cottonball soaked in alcohol. Your mother jerks her foot but Imre waits patiently as she calms down. “You really don't like blood?” you ask Lorcan in a monotone voice. With the disgusted face on he replies, “it smells weird, it gets everywhere and cuts are even worse. Feet are gross too.” You don't correct him. You two watch silently as Imre wraps the foot with a gauze and gently sets it down on the blood. He hands you the kit and you hold it with both hands, dangling near your pant zipper. Lorcan pulls out the blanket from under her and lays it over your mother. He adjusts the pillow for her. When he sees your faces he says embarrassed, “stop looking at me dickheads.” He comes back to stand next to you. All three of you stand in front of the bed, staring at your squirming mother, Imre with his hands in his pockets and Lorcan with his crossed. Imre hums. You look to see him squinting at your mother. “What?” Lorcan looks to Imre too. “Your mother has lived in this town for a good while, since before we were born. Perhaps she knows something,” he muses. “Look at her,” Lorcan motions to your mother, “she's fuckin' sloshed. She doesn't know what year it is.” “Drunk ramblings could have hints of truth,” Imre reckons. You venture, “or we could take a look in her nightstand. Anything important she probably has at hand since she's too 'medicated' to be able to reach it if it isn't a wine bottle.” Lorcan snorts. “I thought I had mommy issues.” “Shut up,” you say without much emotion and go to the nightstand. You bend down and open the top drawer but a movement at the edge of your vision makes you look up. “Orla?” your mother says. [[NEXT->Page 284]] </h3>

<h3>Your eyebrows lower so far down you're squinting and your mouth goes a bit ajar. Your mother reaches out and grabs your wrist. Her nails lightly pinch your skin. “Orla,” she says in a voice that's barely above a whisper. Her glassy eyes lazily look into your eyes. <<audio "stephanie" stop>> You look at the boys, Lorcan looks as baffled as you but Imre looks very interested in what's happening. “Orla, is it you honey?” your mother asks, swallowing to lubricate her vocal chords. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You don't want to look at the implications of you being Orla's sister and having your mother confuse you with her.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You never thought you looked more like Orla than Percy, who is the male version her. People thought you weren't even her brother.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Play along.|Page 285][$playalong to true]] * [[Tell her who you are.|Page 285][$noplay to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $playalong >>\ “Y-yes,” you stammer. “It's me.” Your mother smiles, wholly and truly. You don't think you've ever seen her smile like that. She pulls you towards the bed and you let her. Kneeling on the mattress, she leans you over and gently puts her arms around you. You freeze. You are very much aware that your bones reside inside your body. You feel equally too small and too big to fit within her embrace. Your eyes burn from how open you have them. You're not used to hugs on a good day. You can't even remember the — <<elseif $noplay >>\ You shake your head, “no, mother I'm not —“ “Yes, Mrs. Crown, it's Orla,” Imre interjects. You shoot him an incredulous look but he whispers urgently, “go along with it.” Your mother smiles, wholly and truly. You don't think you've ever seen her smile like that. She pulls you towards the bed and you reluctantly let her. Kneeling on the mattress, she leans you over and gently puts her arms around you. You freeze. You are very much aware that your bones reside inside your body. You feel equally too small and too big to fit within her embrace. Your eyes burn from how open you have them. You're not used to hugs on a good day. You can't even remember the — <</if>> Her perfume is everywhere, it makes you dizzy along with her odour. You feel... <<cycle '$hug' autoselect>><<option 'gross.'>><<option 'uncomfortable.'>><<option 'angry.'>><<option 'sad.'>><<option 'frightened?'>><<option 'fuck, you do not know.'>><</cycle>> “I'm sorry,” she sobs into your ear. “I'm so sorry.” You lift your hand trying to touch her back but you can't make yourself touch her. “Yeah, it's ok,” you say in a tone so unconvincing that Imre runs his hand through his hair. Lorcan has looked away, down to the floor as if there were something next to his boot. “I let you get hurt, I was supposed to protect you but I couldn't,” she says in between gasps of cries. “It's fine mother,” you try to console. Sobs wrack through her body, making your chest heave in time with her. “I should've said yes.” Your back hurts from bending and your tenseness doesn't help. “Said yes to what?” you probe. She sniffs and you can hear how clogged her nose is. She runs her hands down your back. Imre looks intently at the scene, his brows furrowed, his eyes unblinking. “To what mother, said yes to what?” you prod. “To Yasmine.” Who? You look at Imre who looks perplexed, he mouths to 'keep going.' You entreat your mother, “tell me who Yasmine is.” “She wanted to go, she said Nia would be taken from her and soon enough so would you but I didn't listen I should've listened,” she rambles. Lorcan voices what you all think, “ho-le-sh-it.” [[NEXT->RECAP]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan cups his eyes and peers into the house by way of the small window on the door. You're about to knock on the door when he says, “a guy's coming.” Lorcan backs up, behind you and Imre. An older man opens the door. His messy hair hangs from his face and spills off his shoulders. He wears a green flannel shirt overtop a white shirt and blue jeans. His feet are in brown scuffed boats. His eyes are deeply sunken and his cheeks are hollow. Calling him worse for wear is an understatement. He looks from Imre to you in a slow way, almost sleepily which wouldn't be that far off given the absolute tiredness seeping off of him. “If you brought flowers, just leave them on the porch with the others,” he says and points a finger to a pile a few feet away under the bay window. Imre, with his hands in trousers, holds a relaxed language with his body. “I am truly sorry for your loss and for disturbing you but we're actually here to possibly talk to either you or your wife?” he adds, “it won't be for long.” The man — Joshua Palmer — looks fatigued as Imre goes on. “Look kids, I don't want to be a dick but you should really get the fuck away from—“ he stops and tilts his head up, “Lorcan?” You and Imre move apart to uncover Lorcan. His expression is sheepish, his hands tucked into his armpits. “Hey Mr. Palmer.” Imre's eye furrow but when Joshua looks back at him the boy smiles. “We're here to accompany our classmate and nascent friend in this difficult time.” Lorcan stares angrily at Imre but Joshua isn't looking. “He heard the news and couldn't do anything today but talk about Sammy but he told us he needed support and that's why we're here,” Imre asserts. “You did?” Joshua asks Lorcan. “I—“ “Of course he did,” Imre interjects. “He just has issues expressing his feelings. It would do him good to talk to you,” Imre implores in a sorrowful voice. Lorcan grinds his teeth together, burning a whole at the back of Imre's neck. Joshua looks confused and he points from you to the others and back. “You guys are friends? Or what? I've never seen either of you with Lorcan before,” Joshua claims. Imre is already forming a response but maybe Joshua needs a demonstration. <hr>\ * [[Throw your arm around Lorcan's shoulder.|Sammy-3(6)][$hug3 to true]] * [[Mess Lorcan's hair up playfully.|Sammy-3(6)][$hair3 to true]] </h3>

<h3>The foyer is small, you step on a small carpet with a smiley face. A set of stairs wind up in front of you and to your left is a set of couches surroudning a small coffee table. The TV is on showing one of those dubbed cartoons. You follow Amanda through a short hall into the kitchen. Gray light shines of the table but even so the light's on. The kitchen is clean but cluttered, instant coffee, cereal boxes and slices of bread crowd the counters. Joshua leans on against the fridge, his arms crossed. He's looking at the woman who sits at the table, bent over a framed picture. The table is covered with multiple pictures all different but one with similarity. A boy with auburn smiles at the camera. The woman's silent tears run down her face as she grips a picture of Sammy Palmer dressed as a bee, holding a pumpkin trick-or-treat bag up. <<if $fakedating3 >>Imre holds out a chair for you and nudges Lorcan to hold out a chair for him which he does begrudgingly. You sit directly across from who you assume to be Christina Palmer.<<elseif $groupwork3 >>You and Imre sit at the table while Lorcan leans against the wall, closest to the exit. Your spot finds you directly across who you assume to be Christina.<</if>> <<if $rpsImre>>Imre clasps his hands atop the table, an unoffensive expression to his accompanies his eventual words. “Mrs. Palmer, we are very sorry to disturb you in a grief I imagine is unlike anything we could ever experience and you could ask us to leave but it would really do Lorcan good to talk to you.”<<elseif not $rpsImre>>You swallow, trying to find the words to say. This woman looks broken and you don't know how to comfort someone like that. “We're really sorry about Sammy, it's probably been hell all day and we're not here to be morbid or anything we came because of Lorcan.”<</if>> The aforementioned expels a long-suffering breath but makes no move to dispel the story. Amanda hugs herself, standing by the sink. She's looking at her mother witha worried expression. Perhaps her grief is hidden beneath the clear fear she has for her mother's mental state. Such an odd notion. “Mrs. Palmer?” Imre asks and lightly touches her hand. Christina slowly moves her eyes away from the picture to the boy's fingers. Then ever-so unhurriedly climbs up his chest to meet his eyes. She let's out a small gasp. Imre moves his hand away, a furrow in his eyesbrows. She suddenly sees Lorcan by the exit. “How old are you two?” she asks, her voice raspy. “Nineteen,” Imre responds. “Nineteen,” Christina whispers. <<if $rpsImre >>Imre looks taken aback by the question but he attempts to get her attention. “Our,” he motions to you and him, “friend and schoolmatw who knew Sammy in a way and he feels some of your grief. That is why we would like you ask some questions about Sammy, to get that closure.”<<elseif $rpsmc>>A bit taken aback by the question you give her a friendly smile and say, “Mrs. Palmer, Imre and I are here to support our classmate who feels he needs to get answers to be able to grief fully and for that we need to know a few things about why Sammy was out last night.”<</if>> Christina puts down the picture she's holding. Joshua sighsand says, “kids I know you're going through it but my wife isn't up for—“ “Sammy always said that when he grew up he'd be the most handsomest boy around,” Christina interrupts. She picks up another picture and stares at wistfully, “to him being grown up wasn't about being an adult it was about being a teenager.” You and Imre look at each other, both of you at a loss on how to push Christina's train of thought to the right direction. “Both of you kind of have things he had,” she says to the boys. “Like a mix. That's how my boy would've looked like!“ She stands up and you lean back as if she were to attack you. “Honey...?,” Joshua asks. Christina walks over to Lorcan who presses himself against the wall, a scared look on his face. Christina grabs his face and with a tear-stained lip smiles at him, “kind of like you,” she extends out a hand and cups Imre's cheek, “and you.” “My boy,” she says looking back and forth between them. “Mom...,” Amanda says softly and lays a hand on her shoulder. “These are my boys,” Christina repeats dazzly. Joshua comes over to her other side and gently moves her arms down. “Honey, you can't do this.” Christina looks dejected as her husband brings her back to reality. Suddenly she shoves him hard and screams, “WHY NOT? WHY THE FUCK CAN'T I HAVE SOME PEACE?!“ Amanda takes a step back and Lorcan shoots you a panicked look. “Why can't I just have some peace?” she asks, her voice resigned and low. Her knees buckle and her husband holds on to her. Christina leans her head against his chest. “She needs some sleep, please don't be down here when I come back,” Joshua tells Imre. She cries into his shirt as she's escorted out of the room. The four of you are silent as you hear their footsteps getting further as they climb the stairs. Only when a door closes somewhere on the second floor does the room seem to regain oxygen. Amanda lets out a breath and walks over to her mom's former seat, collapsing on it. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(8)*]] </h3>

<h3>“I'm so sorry guys,” Amanda says. Imre had a frsutrated look on his face as Christina had left the room but an easy smile appears on his face when he sees Amanda. “What for?” he asks. Amanda plays with the ring on her finger, “my mom. She's been either crying or just staring at pictures without moving all day.” <<if $rpsImre >>“It's to be expected, the last thing she wanted was three teenagers showing up at her door asking questions about her son,” Imre soothes. “Is your mom going to be ok?” you ask. Amanda shrugs, “I don't know. My dad keeps wanting to give her sleeping pills so maybe he got her to take them finally.” <<elseif $rpsmc >>“It's actually not that bad, most people would've told us to fuck off the minute they saw us. It's our fault,” you admit. “We're sorry if we made things harder for your family,” Imre adds. Amanda shakes her head, “you didn't do anything. She didn't even hear what you said.” <</if>> Amanda pours out some orange juice for herself and all of you. Imre politely sips, you just move the juice around the glass and Lorcan looks at his glass like it offended him. After taking a a few sips Amanda suddenly asks, “so is the friend thing real or not? Cause I thought you two hated each other.” That final part is directed at Lorcan and you. You and Imre quickly look at each other, his eyes telling you what he wants you to say. “Actually—“ you hear Lorcan begin and interrupt him by saying... <hr>\ * [[“It's very true.”|Sammy-3(9)*][$truth3 to true]] * [[“No it isn't.”|Sammy-3(9)*][$lie3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $truth3 >>\ “It's true.” “It's true.” “It's bullshit.” <<elseif $lie3 >>\ “It's not true.” “It's true.” “It's bullshit.” <</if>> All three of you exchange glances and Amanda laughs. “It's ok. It doesn't really matter if it's true or not. You guys need some answers right?” she asks. Imre grins, sliding his chair closer to Amanda's. You don't know he said it was true if he's going to try and flirt with her. You shake your head, no she's a kid he's not flirting he's just dazzling her. “Amanda it would also be good if you told no one we came and asked these questions,” Imre insists. Amanda averts her eyes, her face going crimson at having him stare so intensely at her. “Can you do that for me?” he asks. She nods. “Ask away.” “Do you know why your brother was out?” you inquire. “Kind of. He got kind of obsessed with the disappearances and the bodies, thought he could solve it,” she replies, softly smiling at the memory. “What about what the police has told your parents?” She thinks about this for a moment before answering Imre. “My dad was very mad and said that the police in this town were useless and that obviously it was satanists.” Lorcan snorts loudly at that. You look at him and he says, “the only demonic shit in this town is the mystery meat served in the cafeteria on Tuesdays.” He's right about that, you tried it once and you weren't at school for a two weeks. “Any reason as to why he would say that?” Imre continues. Amanda twists her ring, “not really. But the 'useless' part was because they wanted to say Sammy died by accident.” You bunch your eyebrows, “so soon? It hasn't even been a day.” Amanda nods. “Yeah.” <<if $sbtwo>>\ Imre leans back in his chair, his gaze faraway, thoughts running in his head you aren't privy too. Well you're thinking too and the topic of satanism gives you an idea. “Amanda, are you aware of any marks left on your brother's body? I mean something out place,” you ask. “You mean apart from the bites taken out of him?” she responds in annoyance. You ignore her tone, “yeah like maybe a symbol on his chest?” She shakes her had. <<elseif not $sbtwo>>\ Imre leans back in his chair, his gaze faraway, thoughts running in his head you aren't privy too. Meanwhile you've gone blank. <</if>> Amanda finishes up her juice, wipes her mouth and collects yours even though you didn't really drink any. Imre checks his watch, “we should probably get going, we've spent too much of your time.” “Finally,” Lorcan says all too audibly. Amanda places the glasses in the sink and replies, “I'll walk you guys out.” [[NEXT->Sammy-3(10)]] </h3>

<h3><<if $carhang && $Fanswer >>\ You wait in anticipation. The curiosity mingled with apprehension coming from you in waves. He leans closer, his lips inches from yours. “But now's neither the time or place,” he says softly and moves back. A gust of cold wind hits you fullforce in the face. You sit there stunned as Imre runs a hand through his hair and lowers the windows. “It's a bit stuffy in here, no?” he says. You let out a shaky breath and turn properly in your seat. You don't know if what you hear is a chuckle from Imre but when you look at him his face is blank and bored. You try to control your breathing while you wait for Lorcan. Eventually you see him climb up the Palmer's stairs. He lays the flower he has on near the others and quickly comes back. You look away from him, feeling like what just happened is written all over your face. He slams the door closed and says, “let's fucking go.” Imre, with a relaxed appearance has the car leave the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $carhang && $Aanswer >>\ ==No==. “Yes,” you say in between clenched teeth. Imre slips his hand out from between your warm thighs. You look ahead and blink several times. You don't know what you feel. You know there's some anger in there and humillation, it has you with images of punching him. What prevents you from that is the other feeling there. The still warm feeling of the imprint of his hand on your thigh. Shimmering in these feelings of high temperatures you command angrily, “turn down the fucking windows.” Imre does so without complaint. Actually telling from his face it looks like nothing happened which makes you angrier. How dare he? You bet he can feel your scowl on him but he doesn't look your way, merely closing his eyes and crossing his arms. You try to lower the wrathful pit in your chest while you curse Lorcan for not coming sooner. Eventually you do see him bound up the Palmer's stairs. He lays the flower he has on near the others and quickly comes back. You look away from him, feeling like what just happened is written all over your face. He slams the door closed and says, “let's fucking go.” Imre, with a sleepy appearance has the car leave the curb. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $lfa >>\ Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan ignores you as you try to get him to lighten up. “Look it just took me off ground, but if you think my collarbone looks good— “Just pick a fucking flower we can take,” he interrupts. You look around at the selection. “You don't want to pick? It was your idea.” Lorcan sighs, “I know shit about flowers ok? Whatever you pick is fine.” You grin, it might be your impression but this could be Lorcan's way of telling you he isn't mad. You look around at the selection. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> Lorcan looks at the flower in your hand and doesn't say anything just pays for it. The way back is quiet. But not an awkward quiet. Something calm, there's no need to say anything and there's not fighting. Which makes you want to smile wide. You eventually get to the Palmer's porch and Lorcan takes the flower from your hand. His fingers brush yours. You two stand by side and he says, “say something.” You ponder and then say out loud, “may you find some peace Sammy like you didn't find in life.” You stand there for a bit more until Lorcan says, “we should go or pretty boy will lose it.” You agree and you walk back to the car. Imre looks impatient as he waits for you two to put your seat belt — something Lorcan doesn't do — and immediately steps on the pedal. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <<elseif $flowersgo && $laa >>\ Mrs. Pepper has her flower shop right outside her house, it spills onto her front lawn. Her flowers are popular because they never wilt. Lorcan ignores you and you don't try to get his attention. You've barely looked at the selection of flowers when Lorcan yells at you, “hurry the fuck up!“ You smirk and deliberately take your time looking. Lorcan rants under his breath, his eyes following you intensely. <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>You know a fair bit about flowers since you make so many of them in paper form and the best for grief are lilies, tulips and pink carnations.<<elseif $hobby is not 'flowers'>>You don't know much about flowers but luckily the selections have little cards that tell you what they mean.<</if>> You pick... <<cycle '$flowers2go' autoselect>><<option 'lilies.'>><<option 'tulips.'>><<option 'pink carnations.'>><</cycle>> When you get to the checkout Mrs. Pepper tells you that it's already paid for. You turn to look at Lorcan but he's already walking away. You speed-walk to get close enough to be a few steps behind him. “I don't need you paying for my stuff,” you claim. “Just stop talking,” he orders. The assertiveness makes your stomach quake. You bite your tongue from provoking him. You eventually get to the Palmer's porch and Lorcan takes the flower from your hand. His fingers brush yours. You two stand by side and he says, “aren't you going to say something?” You huff, “why can't you?” “Because I don't know what to say so stop being an ass for a second and say something about this kid,” he replies. You ponder on your words and decide to say, “I hope wherever you are there isn't any pain.” From the corner of your eye you see Lorcan turn to you but any words you expect from him don't come. You stand there for a bit more until Lorcan says, “we should go or pretty boy will lose it.” You walk back to the car. Imre looks impatient as he waits for you two to put your seat belt — something Lorcan doesn't do — and immediately steps on the pedal. [[NEXT->Sammy-3(16)]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pondQ is 'I would have said we were lovers.'>> After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys fuck in that pond?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What the fuck?” He rolls his eyes, “aaaarreeee yyyyooouuuu ffffuuuuccckkkiiiinggggg?” You're eyes widen, “no! What's wrong with you?!“ Lorcan shrugs, “well you two are acting fucking strange so I had to ask.” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “you didn't have to ask anything! Why do you even care?” “I don't give a shit about who's having sex with who but I don't wanna be in the middle when you two get into heated argument,” he explains. You snort, “heated argument? Why did you get that out of? a soap opera?” Lorcan ignores you. “All I'm saying is keep it in your pants.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $pondQ is 'I would have said we were friends.'>>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys fight at the pond?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiiiiddddd yyyyyoooouuuuu ffffiiiigggghhhhttt?” You reply slowly, “uh no.” Lorcan bites his nail, “well you two are super quiet so I thought ya'll were fighting and I was about to get in there.” You turn in your seat and whisper to him, “if we were what could you possible have done?” “Probably taken your side because even though I hate you I don't like that that bastard always wins,” he admits. You snort, “wow, thanks for your support.” Lorcan replies with sarcasm, “you're welcome Crowny.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $funny && $fakedatingIS >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys make out or something so the Palmer's would believe you?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What the fuck are you saying?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiddddd yyyyoooouuuuu kissssss?” You're eyes widen, “no! What's wrong with you?!“ Lorcan shrugs, “well you two are acting fucking strange so I had to ask.” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “you didn't have to ask anything! Why do you even care?” “I don't give a shit about who's having sex with who but I don't wanna be in the middle when you two get play out the balcony scene,” he explains. You snort, “the balcony scene? Have you ever read a single word of Shakespeare?” Lorcan ignores you. “All I'm saying is keep it in your pants.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $truth && $fakedatingIS >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys make out or something so the Palmer's would believe you?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What the fuck are you saying?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiddddd yyyyoooouuuuu kissssss?” You're eyes widen, “no! What's wrong with you?!“ Lorcan shrugs, “well you two are acting fucking strange so I had to ask.” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “you didn't have to ask anything! Why do you even care?” “I don't give a shit about who's having sex with who but I don't wanna be in the middle when you two get play out the balcony scene,” he explains. You snort, “the balcony scene? Have you ever read a single word of Shakespeare?” Lorcan ignores you. “All I'm saying is keep it in your pants.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $friendsIS && $funny >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys fight at the Palmer's?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiiiiddddd yyyyyoooouuuuu ffffiiiigggghhhhttt?” You reply slowly, “uh no.” Lorcan bites his nail, “well you two are super quiet so I thought ya'll were fighting and I was about to get in there.” You turn in your seat and whisper to him, “if we were what could you possible have done?” “Probably taken your side because even though I hate you I don't like that that bastard always wins,” he admits. You snort, “wow, thanks for your support.” Lorcan replies with sarcasm, “you're welcome Crowny.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $friendsIS && $truth >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys fight at the Palmer's?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiiiiddddd yyyyyoooouuuuu ffffiiiigggghhhhttt?” You reply slowly, “uh no.” Lorcan bites his nail, “well you two are super quiet so I thought ya'll were fighting and I was about to get in there.” You turn in your seat and whisper to him, “if we were what could you possible have done?” “Probably taken your side because even though I hate you I don't like that that bastard always wins,” he admits. You snort, “wow, thanks for your support.” Lorcan replies with sarcasm, “you're welcome Crowny.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 279]] </h3>

<h3><<if $arcaderomance >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so did you two have a good time at the arcade?” You shift in your seat, “yeah.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and.... was Lorcan a perfect gentleman?” You bite your tongue. You can just imagine what Imre would think if he knew the way Lorcan touched you. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You reply nonchalantly, “you know him. He's always grumpy.” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $arcadeplatonic >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. He would look back and scowl, that would make you grin. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so did you two have a good time at the arcade?” You shift in your seat, “yeah.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and.... was Lorcan a perfect gentleman?” You roll your lips. He's prying. He wants you to give him something juicy. You reply nonchalantly, “he was just ok.” “Oh,” Imre says unethusiastically. He looks back at the road. <<elseif $kickedout >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so you stood up for Lorcan?” You bite your tongue. You can just imagine the stories Imre is creating in his head. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You reply nonchalantly, “yeah, I just mostly wanted to get out there.” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $defend2 >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so you stood up for Lorcan?” You bite your tongue. You can just imagine the stories Imre is creating in his head. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You reply nonchalantly, “yeah, I didn't want to fail the mission.” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $nodefend >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “so you just stood there while Lorcan was being attacked by Mrs. Palmer?” You bite your tongue. You can just imagine the stories Imre is creating in his head. You have enough with the case, you don't need Imre prying. You reply nonchalantly, “is that a problem?” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face, “the opposite actually, I like the drive.” You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 279]] </h3>

<h3><<if $JAIL >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “you two spent quite a bit of time in jail, how was it?” You shift in your seat, “it was jail.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and nothing of note happened?” You take a moment to think about your answer. Imre's mind must be conjuring up some gossip worthy scenarios. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You reply nonchalantly, “apart from watching dustmites nothing else happend.” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $boy1 >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “how was it at Alice's?” You shift in your seat, “it was a bar, nothing special.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “and did you and Lorcan at least manage to get along there?” You take a moment to think about your answer. Imre's mind must be conjuring up some gossip worthy scenarios. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You reply nonchalantly, “if by 'get along' you mean not get into a fight that would kick us out? Then yeah..” Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $oneoff >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys make out or something so the Palmer's would believe you?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What the fuck are you saying?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiddddd yyyyoooouuuuu kissssss?” You're eyes widen, “no! What's wrong with you?!“ Lorcan shrugs, “well you two are acting fucking strange so I had to ask.” You turn in your seat and whisper furiously to him, “you didn't have to ask anything! Why do you even care?” “I don't give a shit about who's having sex with who but I don't wanna be in the middle when he bumps and dumps you,” he explains. You snort, “oh that's so sweet, where do you get your poetry from? The stalls of a seedy bar?” Lorcan ignores you. “All I'm saying is keep it in your pants.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $fakedating3 >>\ After shoving Lorcan's bike in with in the back you set off in Imre's car to the manor. Occasionally you would look over your shoulder and see Lorcan looking out the window. You got the impression he knew you were looking at him. After another such moment you turn your head forward and notice Imre has a smirk on his face. You feel he's going to say something. “Are you going to spit it out or not?” Imre laughs, “was it fun having two boyfriends?” You shift in your seat, “it wasn't real.” Imre's smirk grows wider, “no but I had fun. If you had to choose between the two of us who was the better boyfriend?” You bite your tongue. You don't know what gratification Imre gets out of this but you can feel how excited he is. You have enough with the confusion in your head, you don't need Imre to pry. You ask nonchalantly, “can being single forever be an option?” “Oh you're no fun,” he says good-naturedly. Imre glances back at the road, the smirk still on his face but you don't think he believed you. You turn back to look at Lorcan once more and he's still staring out the window. <<elseif $groupwork3 >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys somehow get into a fight that I didn't hear?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiddddd yyyyoooouuuuu fffiiiigggghhhtttt?” You answer slowly, “no.” Lorcan shrugs, “well you're very fucking quiet.” You turn in your seat and whisper to him, “silence doesn't mean fighting, maybe you should try it.” “I'm just saying that we can't all three be fighting because we won't get shit done,” he explains. You sigh, “I don't know where this idea came from but it's not true.” Lorcan ignores you. “Just try not to kill him before we figure this all out.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <<elseif $boys2 >>\ After going back to the lodge and shoving Lorcan's bike in the trunk you set off to the manor. Sometimes you and Imre would cross gazes and he would smile but not try to start a conversation. Lorcan does frequently look between you and Imre, a weird look in his eyes. “Did you guys somehow get into a fight at the bar?” Lorcan's voice says by your ear. Startled you turn your head slightly to see his face peeking out from between the headrest and the window. He's gone to the other side so presumbly Imre can't hear him. “What?” He rolls his eyes, “ddddiiiddddd yyyyoooouuuuu fffiiiigggghhhtttt?” You answer slowly, “no.” Lorcan shrugs, “well you're very fucking quiet.” You turn in your seat and whisper to him, “do you want us to talk about how much we love spending time with each other and exchange friendship bracelets?” “Be a snarky asshole all you want but if we all fight we'll get fuck-all done,” he explains. You huff,, “you're giving me advice that I don't need. We're fine. Your paranoia of everyone but yourself is literally driving you crazy.” Lorcan ignores you. “Just try not to kill him before we figure this all out.” Before you can retort he sits back in his seat. You glance at Imre and he's still staring straight ahead. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 279]] </h3>

<h3><<set $frames to true>>\ Atop the dresser there's a series of framed pictures that from your recollection have never been changed or moved. You fold your arms on the surface and lay your chin down. You start at the first one on the left which is an old picture from the //Miss Holiday pageant '65//. Two young girls smile to the side as a camera angled to look up at them snaps the photo. They're dressed in identical white puffy gowns, each with a tiara, a sash and in their gloved hands carry a bouquet of roses. You've heard the story before. Your mother and her sister both entered and both won. You guess it because they were twins. The next picture is of your mother sitting in the sand, her arms around her father. They're both making silly faces. You don't know what year this picture is from but your mother doesn't look much older than she did in the pageant picture. You see a little bit of Sally in your grandfather's face. The one after that is a colored picture and it was taken on your parent's wedding day. Your mother wore a beautiful dress from the 70s. It's laced with pearl buttons, long flowy sleeves and ruffled tieres. Her smile is more subdued here, composed, you would say. She isn't showing yet. Her sister stands next to her in a blue silk dress, a blank stare. The last picture is of your sister. A photoshoot that was dOn one spring in the late 80s. She smiles brightly at the camera, her hair teased and fluffy. You look over your shoulder, Imre sits at the bed still. You make to grab your sister's picture but as you lift it you see another frame behind the others. Fallen, you pick it up and are stunned when you see yourself. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor girl's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor boy's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor boy's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor girl's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor girl's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>It's a pageant picture. You can't remember which one but you're wearing a sailor boy's outfit. Obviously you're not smiling, your gaze on whoever's taken the picture.<</if>> You shove the picture back in it's place, facedown. You move away from the pictures and look around, unsure of what to do with your hands. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You feel in your pockets for your packet of cigarettes. Bringing it out, Imre's eyes snap to you when you light up. He just stares at you as you suck on your cigarette. You don't know if there's judgement in his eyes, maybe it's your own guilt being reflected back at you but his eyes irritate you and you go to the window. Lifting it up and sit on the sill and blow the smoke out into the night. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ You feel in your pockets for your flask. Bringing it out, Imre's eyes snap to you when you take a swing. He just stares at you as you suck on your swallow. You don't know if there's judgement in his eyes, maybe it's your own guilt being reflected back at you but his eyes irritate you and you go to the window. Lifting it up and sit on the sill and drinking slowly. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ Your hand itches. You desperately look around for a hard surface and settle for the wall. You slam your hand against it. “Fuck!“ you groan. Imre's eyes snap to you, he's about to get up when you lift up a hand to stop him. “Don't!“ He sits back down, his face giving no indication of any emotion. You hiss and cradle your burning hand. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>> \ You feel in your pockets for your bottle of pills. Bringing it out, Imre's eyes snap to you when you take off the cap. He just stares at you as you shake out two white pills and shove them into your mouth. You don't know if there's judgement in his eyes, maybe it's your own guilt being reflected back at you but his eyes irritate you and you go the window. Lifting it up and sit on the sill and look out into the night. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ You feel like something wants to claw it's way out of you. You press your eyes closed and focus on your breathing. You feel the atmosphere around you. The feeling of your socks on your toes. The warmth of the heating. The smell of your mother's perfume. Your fingers feel your clothes. When you open your eyes you see Imre looking at you. <</if>> After you rub your forehead and think to... <hr>\ * ==The pictures.== <<if not $docs>>* [[The drawers.|Page 282B]]<<elseif $docs>>* ==The drawers.==<</if>> <<if not $closet>>* [[The closet.|Page 282C]]<<elseif $closet>>* ==The closet.==<</if>> <<if not $vanity>>* [[The vanity.|Page 282D]]<<elseif $vanity>>* ==The vanity.==<</if>> * [[Don't look at anything else.|Page 283]] </h3>

<h3><<set $closet to true>>\ The closet isn't really a closet. It's an armoire. The room had a closet but your mother thought that was tacky so she got rid of it and added this hulking hardwood cherry thing. You throw it open and the first thing your eyes catches on is a bright pink gown. You unhook it from its hanger and stretch it out to see it better. She wore this for Christmas, you want to say '88? It has feathers and shoulders and sequins. That all sounds like that it would be a disaster but it works. You bring it to your nose and inhale. It smells like her and she hasn't worn it since then. You put it back and go through the rest of the clothes. You don't notice it until you reach it because it's so thin and at the very end. You pull out a white silk nightgown. You move it to the light. What makes you stare at it is the dried blood around the middle. It's clearly been washed but the stain wouldn't come out. The blood is dull and trails from the middle all the way down to the bottom in thin unstraight lines. From what you can recall your mother never had a horrible accident when she was wearing a white nightgown. You put it back. Next you look at her shoes. All of them are heels, the kind that makes your own heels ache just by looking at them. When you accidentally open the drawer with her brasseries you quickly close it. The bloody nightgown intrigues you but your mother would never tell you. Is there anything else to look at? <hr>\ * ==The closet.== <<if not $frames>>* [[The pictures.|Page 282A]]<<elseif $frames>>* ==The pictures.==<</if>> <<if not $docs>>* [[The drawers.|Page 282B]]<<elseif $docs>>* ==The drawers.==<</if>> <<if not $vanity>>* [[The vanity.|Page 282D]]<<elseif $vanity>>* ==The vanity.==<</if>> * [[Don't look at anything else.|Page 283]] </h3>

<h3><<set $vanity to true>>\ Your eyes move along the various bottle and tubes on your mother's vanity. It's not lost on you that she was vain as could be and owned a vanity. You pick up a pink bottle and sniff. This is the perfume she habitually used. You always liked it, it smelled of vanilla, orchids and just warmth like sitting in a garden on a summer's day. Her favorite tube of lipstick. A vibrant pink creamy color from one of those companies that have hard to pronounce names. Her white nail polish which she did to paint the tips of her nails for her french manicures. She called the nail salon in town '//overpriced for people who do a shitty job.'// You open the little thin drawer right under the vanity. Her perfume's box is in there and when you stick your hand in you feel paper. You bring it out and find a card that merely says //'To Pru.'//<<if $docs >> Your mother's sister's writing.<<elseif not $docs>> You don't recognize the writing.<</if>> You pick up a ring. It's diamond shines brightly in the room's lighting. You don't think she's ever worn this before. Your mother only wears her wedding band and her engagement ring which has a much bigger diamond than this. You look on the inside of the band to see if it has any inscriptions. //'L'amour de ma vie.'// Your dad must've given it to her back when they were first married which is the only time they were on good terms. You... <<cycle '$ringC' autoselect>><<option 'pocket the ring.'>><<option 'leave the ring where it was.'>><</cycle>> Pushing the drawer in you get up and check your watch. <hr>\ * ==The vanity.== <<if not $frames>>* [[The pictures.|Page 282A]]<<elseif $frames>>* ==The pictures.==<</if>> <<if not $docs>>* [[The drawers.|Page 282B]]<<elseif $docs>>* ==The drawers.==<</if>> <<if not $closet>>* [[The closet.|Page 282C]]<<elseif $closet>>* ==The closet.==<</if>> * [[Don't look at anything else.|Page 283]] </h3>

<h3> __ ''//LAST TIME ON WE WRETCHED CREATURES...//''__ °°°° //“Mother,” you whisper. Percy lowers the wineglass, his mouth hanging open. Sally looks like he's seen a ghost. He gets up and says, “Mother, it's such a welcome surprise that you would join us.”// °°°° //“Early this morning the body of seven year old Sammy Palmer was found half dressed by the edge of the woods near Camelot in the Meadows horrifically mutilated. His parents were not aware he was out of bed. If anyone has any info...,”// °°°° //“Why now though? If we go with the theory that this thing or guy or girl or person has been doing this for decades, why change course now?” you ask. Imre gives you a resigned look and Lorcan just stares at Sammy's school picture. “Maybe they know we're onto them?” Lorcan ventures.// °°°° //Imre finishes his cup and begins stacking the papers in a stack, “I suggest we interview Stephanie's boyfriend, Candace's mother or Sammy's parents.”// °°°° //“To Yasmine.” Who? You look at Imre who looks perplexed, he mouths to 'keep going.' You entreat your mother, “tell me who Yasmine is.” “She wanted to go, she said Nia would be taken from her and soon enough so would you but I didn't listen I should've listened,” she rambles.// //[[THIS EPISODE'S SPONSOR->Episode 5 Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3>//Hey. How are you? How was your day? Was the wind nice today? It felt nice. The softness of the bed in which I sleep is a gift I am eternally grateful for. Did you ask for me? It matters not. I am here. I hold on as hard streams of water pour down from heaven. I am still as the hard plastic tries to catch me. My brothers and sisters scream as the poison takes them. My body burns. Do you hear the thousand screams of death? Do you care? When the ordeal is over I remain. It is with great sadness that I look over the cemetery you have left in your wake. Why are you so cruel? Are we not allowed to live? To feed? To grow and bear offspring? Who dictates what organisms deserve that right over others? I do not know the purpose to my life. Can my kind believe in God? As you go about your day, occasionally remembering of my and my kin's existence by the presence of your fingernail, do you know why you were born so tall and mighty and I so small? This is futile. You cannot hear me. The only way I can get your attention is by eating and birthing my sons and daughters to be then taken so viciously from my side. Alas, that is our lot. See you next time you take a shower. This message was brought to you by Croun Public Service Health Association. Make sure to check your children for head lice and inform the school. If the lice grows to a ginormous size we kindly ask you to incinerate your child. For ginormous models, please look at school buses, whales or the ego of recently deflowered high school boys.// [[NEXT->Episode 5: Ain't No Use in Praying]] </h3>

<h2> S1 EPISODE 5: Ain't No Use In Praying</h2> <h3> //Late 1985// You're walking on the grass. <<audio "wind" loop play>> You've been walking for a while, you suppose. Your feet hurt, they must be dirty as the earth leaves the ground with the soles of your feet every time you lift them. You should wear socks to bed, your sleepwalking self would appreciate it when you wake up mid-stride. Of course if it rained — as it has when you've left the manor in the darkest and earliest points of the day — you'd get wet socks. That would be bad. Something about a disease that could kill you if a doctor doesn't cut it off. Wet socks meant death, your grandpa Cassius once told you. You slow down, look around you. You're on a dirt path behind some houses. You're standing on a few clumps of dead grass. The tall fences shield your eyes. Your short stature doesn't help. You rub your arms, your soft skin exposed to the chilly autumn air.<<if '$MC' is 'cis female.'>> You're wearing your PJs. Soft purple fluffy pants with a matching string-spaghetti top. A cartoon cow sits in the middle.<<elseif '$MC' is 'trans female.'>> You're wearing your PJs. Soft purple fluffy pants with a matching string-spaghetti top. A cartoon cow sits in the middle. You're mother doesn't know you put this on after taking off that boring dinosaur set.<<elseif '$MC' is 'cis male.'>> You're wearing your PJs. Green long-Johns with tiny dinosaurs on them and a plain white t-shirt.<<elseif '$MC' is 'trans male.'>> You're wearing your PJs. Green long-Johns with tiny dinosaurs on them and a plain white t-shirt. You make sure to put this on after making your mother see that you wore the purple girly PJs.<<elseif '$MC' is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> You're wearing your PJs. A gray thin shirt, and regular blue pajama bottoms. Your mother hates how boring it is, she says a 'girl'should 'show she's a girl.'<<elseif '$MC' is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> You're wearing your PJs. A gray thin shirt, and regular blue pajama bottoms. Your mother likes the dinosaurs ones and says that you dress boring, but that's typical for a 'boy.'<</if>> You look up at the trees. You always think that one day a pair of eyes will be looking down at you. Things move in the trees, the kids in your class say. They say it's not the wind. It's so silent here. It's like this everywhere in town when you're alone. The quiet feels like someone is holding their breath, to what purpose? Beats you. You'll have to walk home, that is if Mother and Father haven't already noticed you're gone and have come out to look for you. Your ear already hurts imagining the twist your mother will give you. You take a step backwards, thinking it's best to retrace your steps when something interrupts the heavy silence. [[NEXT->Page 286]] </h3>

<h3>You stop and listen closely. At first it seems you imagined it. The only sound audible to you is your heartbeat. You take another step and hear it again. You look slowly to your right. Could it be coming from there? The noise stops... no it actually doesn't. There's another noise. It's lower. It sounds like grass. The healthy kind. It's the same sound you made when you walked on the grass on this side. You get an odd idea. You want to see, something that's unusual for you. You never want to see anything. The fence is tall. You'll have to pull yourself up. Or you could call out. Finally you could just leave, Mother doesn't trust the darkness, she says you'll get lost like a sylph. A laugh cuts through the night. A woman's laugh. <hr>\ * [[Look over the fence.|Page 287][$fencelooker to true]] * [[Ask who's there?|Page 287][$strangenoise to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 287][$seeya to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $fencelooker>>\ Getting on your tiptoes, you barely reach the top of the fence with your fingers. When you do, you put your foot on the fence and then the other. The sheer weight of yourself makes your fingers start to slide off the fence. But you dig your nails in and stifle the moans of pain threatening to rip from your lips. You slide up one foot and it takes all the strength in your weak body to slide up the other. You bite your tongue as you make the trek up. You feel the sweat slip down your back, the curls your fingers have been subjected to ache to the point where they feel like they might break. Even so, your curiosity is stronger than your lack of fitness. You push yourself up until your shoulders pass the top of the fence. For a moment you catch your breath. You blink several times, your eyes passing over the square backyard of a home you've never seen before. You don't see anything at first. Anything of note at least. Some lawn chairs, a pit with burned wood on it. You're about to slide down when you spot a black mass on the grass by the deck. Unlike the other things in the yard, this one is moving. Back and forth. Kind of like the playing you see kids do at school. One time you played like that with Percy, it wasn't that fun, he won and you got a mouthful of dirt. You squinted but you couldn't make out the shapes. You know by what your father told you, that kids don't play outside at night so you wonder if they're big kids playing. There are moments in our lives that are pivotal, that we don't understand how much until it's too late. We can miss them so easily. But sometimes the universe conspires to make us see. And in that moment, as the moon peeked out from the trees you saw two adults playing. The woman was wearing a dress but it was pulled down, showing you something you knew your mother had. The bottom of her dress was pulled up. The man had a few buttons off but was clothed, except for a small part in his pants. The woman leaned her head back, her eyes closed shut and her mouth open as she was pushed forward and backward. You had seen this woman before, but you don't know where. The man, seemed familiar too but less so. [[NEXT->Page 288]] <<elseif $strangenoise>>\ You say, “hello?” Or at least you try but your throat lets it slip out like a sad echo from far away. You clear your throat and try again, “hello? Who's there?” The low noise stops at once. Then rustling, hurried movements and voices, low voices that say words that you hear your mother and father say when they're angry. They don't answer you so you think they didn't hear you that good. “Hello? Um... do you need help?” your meek voice asks. More of those bad words, something falls and someone yelps in pain. You're about to ask once more if whoever is there needs assistance but loud whispers shut you up. “Real great idea Clover,” a man's voice says. You hear a sigh of annoyance, “where the fuck else are we supposed to go Cian? You won't waste your money on a hotel!“ “Just shut up and hurry,” the man replies. There are moments in our lives that are pivotal, that we don't understand how much until it's too late. We can miss them so easily. And when they reappear you wonder, what are the odds? The other, the woman's voice sounds familiar to you. You just don't know from where. The man's even less so but you think you've heard it too but rougher. You hear more rustling, then footsteps and a door slams. [[NEXT->Page 288]] <<elseif $seeya>>\ It's far too late for you to be outside and the yelling and earpulling your father will give you will be worse if you delay. You step away and turn around, walking back the path you must've taken to get here. The path stops at some bushes and you're forced to turn right, passing by the side of a house, you end up on a street. Cars line the edge of the curb, the lights are off in all the houses but you can hear a dog bark somewhere. Just as you're looking for a direction to go in a door opens and your head snaps to a house halfway down the street. A woman comes out onto the sidewalk, pulling on her jacket. She looks back and a man follows behind her. He's tightening his belt. The woman leans against a car that looks like it's seen better days. She cups the man's face and kisses him. You look away in disgust at two old people doing stuff your parents don't even do. The woman pulls away, walks to the other side of the car and gets in, not before throwing a smile to the man. He watches her pull away, a small smile on his face. He stands there for a few seconds after she turns a corner. The man walks back inside. There are moments in our lives that are pivotal, that we don't understand how much until it's too late. We can miss them so easily. But sometimes the universe conspires to make us see. You've seen that woman before. Somewhere not so long ago but you don't remember who she is exactly. The man looks familiar but somehow different. [[NEXT->Page 288]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fencelooker >>\ Your arms give out and you fall to the ground. The impact knocking the wind out of you. You can't even gasp. You lay there like a dying fish. Your torso, stiff. You lay there for a few minutes, your body unwilling to move. When your breathing regulates you push yourself up and let out a moan at the sucker punch to your chest. Rubbing your throbbing head you slowly stand up. Your vision tilts and you lay your shoulder against the fence for a few seconds. Forgetting all about what you saw for a moment, you slowly walk back the way you came while asleep. Your body aches as you turn the corner from behind the houses and walk up a little dirt path towards the pavement of the street. As you stop on the sidewalk you see the taillights of a car disappear as it turns a corner. A man quickly disappears inside his house. You look around the quiet neighborhood. It doesn't look familiar. Well, it does. All neighborhoods in Croun look the same and that's why you don't know where you are. You think back to that man, the house isn't far. You could knock on his door and ask him if he could call your parents? <hr>\ * [[Knock on his door.->Page 289]] * [[Keep walking.->Page 289*]] <<elseif $strangenoise >>\ O....k. It seems that no one needs help. Shooting the fence a strange look you decide to walk back the way it seems you came. You pass many backyards, some with lower fences made of steel. Eventually you do find a dirt path that leads to the sidewalk of a residential neighborhood. You hear the sound of tires in the distance. Looking around, you realize this neighborhood looks like every neighborhood in the town. Nothing distinct, to make you know exactly where you are. Well there's not much choice. <hr>\ * [[Keep walking.->Page 289*]] <<elseif $seeya >>\ You look around and realize that you have little clue as to where you are. The problem with the neighborhoods in town is that they all look the same. You could be near the manor or on the other side of town. Maybe... you could ask that man for help? No one else seems to be awake. Although you have heard of how dangerous strangers are, Sally tells you this all the time. You could just keep walking until you found a street you recognize and arrive home very late to a good scolding if Mother and Father have been looking for you. <hr>\ * [[Knock on the man's door.->Page 289]] * [[Keep walking.->Page 289*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You walk on the sidewalk towards the house you saw him go into. Stopping in front of it you notice how nice it is, albeit small. A porch swing, swings lightly, a yellow lamp atop the front door looks inviting. It's a home for a family. You walk up the steps, they creak under you. You try to peer within the window on your tippy-toes but you barely see above the bottom. You press the doorbell. Almost immediately you hear footsteps. The door unlocks and swings open to reveal the man. He looks from side to side at the street, his face elated. “Clover?” the man asks. “Um, my name is $name and I need to go home,” you say in a small voice. The man's eyes lower and he sees you standing with your arms hugging yourself. His elation vanishes and looks entirely disappointed to see you. Sighing, he says, “what did you say your name was kid?” “$name. $name Crown and can you call my parents?” The man rubs his eyes and says tiredly, “oh it's you. Yeah, just.... stay out here I'll call them.” You see his silhouette stop by a nearby table and pull out a phone book. You watch as he dials the number and waits. After a few moments he says, “is this Croun Manor? Yeah I got your youngest....” And you tune everything else out. [[NEXT->Page 290]] </h3>

<h3>Hugging your shivering body your dirty feet guide you to the end of the street and you turn a random corner. After several random turns to streets that look all identical you end up seeing the stoplights of Main Street. It's deserted and eerily quiet. You sit down on a bench, rubbing your dirty feet against the other. Your parents will be mad if you walk along the woods, they always tell you and your siblings to never go in there at night. But the manor is so far still and your feet hurt. Your big toe touches a spot on the sole of your other foot and you wince. You lift up your foot to examine it. A near invisible shard of glass reflects the street lamp. Sucking your lip you grab it between your fingernails and pull it out. A small trickle of blood runs down your darkened sole. “$name!“ You look up to see your father's face from the driver's car that slowly moves in front of you. [[NEXT->Page 290*]] </h3>

<h3>The man waits with you on the porch. You, sitting down, your feet on the first step. Him, standing next you, leaning on the railing. He made no effort to talk to you since he hung up the phone. It's not like you're much in the mood to talk anyway. “You shouldn't be walking around alone at night, kid,” the man says awkwardly. You don't react. He coughs out of discomfort. And that's the end of that. Soon enough you see headlights and you stand to see Arthur's car stop in front of the house. It's your father who gets out of the car. His clothes thrown on haphazardly, his hair in every which way. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Sleepy eyes land on you and flicker over to the man. Your father smiles, “Cian, thank you for calling. My daughter does this a lot. inconveniencing poor souls.” He grabs your arm and pulls you to him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Sleepy eyes land on you and flicker over to the man. Your father smiles, “Cian, thank you for calling. My son does this a lot. inconveniencing poor souls.” He grabs your arm and pulls you to him.<</if>> The man, //Cian//, returns your father's smile and extends his hand. Your father grasps it, “no problem Victor, I don't have kids but my nephew is acting up too.” “This generation,” he sneers. Oh, you do recognize Cian now. Your father says goodbye to him and roughly pulls you along. Berating you as he waits for you to get in the car, as he drives all the way home, as he throws open the manor doors and as he climbs the stairs with heavy feet and leaves you in the foyer. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Your daughter's home, if you care, darling,” your father yells out to your mother. He waits for a second, and when he receives no response he slams the door to his room.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Your son's home, if you care, darling,” your father yells out to your mother. He waits for a second, and when he receives no response he slams the door to his room.<</if>> After that, the rest of the night finds you asleep. By the morning you forget all about Cian and whoever Clover is. [[NEXT->Page 291]] </h3>

<h3>Getting out of the car, he doesn't even bother closing the door. His clothes thrown on haphazardly, his hair in every which way. He roughly grabs your arm and pulls you off the bench. Breathing heavily from his nose, he spits, “stupid child. Do you want to get killed?” “I didn't mean—“ “I don't want to hear it. We'll talk about this in the morning,” he interjects and tugs you to the car. Your foot hurts. He begins his berating session as soon as you get in. He continues it all the way home, and is still on it as he climbs up the stairs with his heavy footsteps. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Your daughter's home, if you care, darling,” your father yells out to your mother. He waits for a second, and when he receives no response he slams the door to his room.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Your son's home, if you care, darling,” your father yells out to your mother. He waits for a second, and when he receives no response he slams the door to his room.<</if>> After that, the rest of the night finds you asleep. By the morning you forget all about your night. [[NEXT->Page 291]] </h3>

<h3>//Early October//<<audio "wind" stop>> You sniff your fingers. They still have that hint of rotten egg underneath the nail. You scrubbed your hands raw but things have a habit of lingering. Not to mention the incessant calls the manor has been receiving. The poor maid quit after hearing a particularly harrowing call from someone saying all the ways they would kill her. You've been far too busy to take one of those calls anyway. Much too busy for anything really, you haven't even had time to take note of all those other calls from people around town asking you for help to get rid of fairies and floating toasters. In the moments when you're not going through the boxes in the attic with Imre and Lorcan, you've found time enough to... <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R][$resume to true]] * [[Check out universities.|Page 292-U][$university to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] </h3>

<h3>Imre leant you a book on ghosts and witchcraft.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> "Hours with Ghosts," you read the faded words and shrug before flipping the pages. It's a lot of old language. It gives you a mild headache but you do get insight into different supernatural species. You also hand-copied Imre's notes and photo-copied the missing persons' posters. You cut out of the newspaper clippings of recent deaths. You try to connect what you're reading to the clues left behind but ghosts aren't known for their appetites nor are witches. The closest information you get is that some witch rituals ask for a blood sacrifice. Still, it feels nice to understand and perhaps catch up to Imre's extensive knowledge. It could one day save you. [[NEXT|Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>Ms. De Luca assigned your class an essay taking a stance on whether it was necessary for the Bolsheviks to kill the entire Romanov family. On one side, it is argued that leaving any member of the family alive could prompt a resistance to form and possibly bring them back into power. It was essential to the future Socialist Russia.<<set $HWH to true>> On the other side, it is argued that it was overkill and inhumane to not spare the Czar's children. Maybe that's why there's so many people who still think Anastasia Romanov, the youngest daughter of Nicholas II, survived the firing squad. You rip off a piece of lined paper from your notebook and click on your pen. You look up at your tree, moving its branches in front of your window. It feels so strange to do something so normal. Given... everything. Your watch shows it's 4 o'clock on the dot. Sighing you begin your thesis. <hr>\ * [[The Bolsheviks were right.|Page 293*]] * [[Unjustified murder.|Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>Mr. Carlton likes to give pages of exercise questions every night. He's not that beloved for it. Lorcan has him but at a different period of the day than you and he got detention for writing 'CARLTON CAN SUCK MY BLOND HAIRED NUTS' on the pages every time he handed them in.<<set $HWM to true>> He has you doing geometry. You're not bad at math, but you're not one of those kids who excels at it either. You've never really tried to. You don't even know how money really works. Ok, you know in theory. How does figuring out the angles of triangles help you in anything? Who knows but you don't want to go to summer school. You look up at your tree, moving its branches in front of your window. It feels so strange to do something so normal. Given... everything. Your watch shows it's 4 o'clock on the dot. You sigh and start reading the first question. After about ten minutes you figure out that... <hr>\ * [[You like math.|Page 293*]] * [[You hate this shit.|Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>By the grace of God, your class has managed to reach the third circle of Hell, gluttony. Mrs. Paulson has given you a piece of text from that section and asked you to analyze it and say what it means to you. When she gets the usual moans and grumbles she says that it helps with media literacy. Whatever that means. <<set $HWE to true>>\ //“Return unto thy science, Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is, The more it feels of pleasure and of pain. Albeit that this people maledict To true perfection never can attain, Hereafter more than now they look to be.”// You know of pain, of pleasure a bit less. Perfection, another thing you don't know much about but your sister did, you wonder if she ever felt she achieved it. You look up at your tree, moving its branches in front of your window. It feels so strange to do something so normal. Given... everything. Your watch shows it's 4 o'clock on the dot. You sigh and begin writing. <hr>\ * [[You say that the stanza is about unattainability.|Page 293*]] * [[You say that the stanza is about envy.|Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>You smooth the groove in the middle of the book, laying it open and flat on the passenger seat. You've been reading this student driver's manual since last night. It made for good sleep-induced material. You sit in the <<cycle '$cars' autoselect>><<option 'white corvette.'>><<option 'black Aston Martin.'>><<option 'red Thunderbird.'>><<option ' yellow Mercedes.'>><<option ' blue cadillac.'>><<option 'green Bel Air.'>><</cycle>> It's one of the oldest cars your family has. It was your grandfather's from what you know. You lean down and peek out from under the roof at the front door. You waited until you were sure that no one of consequence would catch you. You adjust your front mirror, no one directly behind you. You twist in your seat and look as far down the dirt path as you can, no one coming. You take a deep breath. “Ok.”<<set $drive to true>> Following the manual you press down on the brake and turn the key. The car's engine shakes the interior. The next step is to check all your mirrors, which you do. And then... the hard part. Your pulse quickens as you shift the car into reverse. You exaggeratedly look over your shoulder and tentatively let your foot off the brake. Your heart thuds as the car moves beneath you. You quickly scan the space around you, you can't believe it. You hit the brake and clench the wheel. You look down at the manual again. Now to turn in reverse. <hr>\ * [[Turn left.]] * [[Turn right.]] </h3>

<h3>“If you crash this car I hope we both die because the old man will beat my ass not yours Crazypants,” Percy warns. The seat belt clicks in place and you put your hands on the wheel. “You're a cheery teacher. Thanks for the support.” <<set $PercyBond += 1>> Percy puts on his old football helmet. “You don't know how to do anything $name, and you have shit luck so yeah I think we're dying today.” You roll your eyes and wait for him to put on his seat belt. You're in the old <<cycle '$cars' autoselect>><<option 'white corvette.'>><<option 'black Aston Martin.'>><<option 'red Thunderbird.'>><<option ' yellow Mercedes.'>><<option ' blue cadillac.'>><<option 'green Bel Air.'>><</cycle>> It was your grandfather's car he got in the 50s, it's been sitting idle since your dad was a teenager. You tap your fingers against the wheel as your brother's seat belt clicks. He gives you a expectant look and says, “wellllllll? Turn the damn thing on.” You take the keys out of your pockets. “When you turn the key, press down on the brake at the same time or it won't turn on,” he instructs. You do just so and the engine painfully roars to life. You and Percy wince as you hear the ugly noise that vaguely sounds like farting that comes from it. “First you gotta get used to the thing, so we aren't doing reversing today or driving on the roads. You're just going to drive at a slow enough speed down the dirt path and when you get to the road you're gonna brake and put it in park,” he tells you. Percy had backed up for you so you put your foot on the brake and move the stick shift down to 'D.' Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you feel the car move beneath you and all around you. Percy rolls the window down as the scenery slowly passes by, you're not yet ready to press down hard on the gas and he doesn't demand that you do. He does complain though. “By the time we get to the road Sally will have put out a missing person's ad for you. And all your pictures look shitty.” “Your pictures look like you smelled something bad,” you retort. “Does not.” <<set $driveP to true>> “Does too.” “Does not.” “Does too.” “Does n— STOP!“ You quickly look away from him and towards the road. In a panic you hit the gas and you're thrown back into the seat. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—“ You drive across the road and onto an oncoming car. Which is when you suddenly remember where the brake is. The driver slams their fist down on the horn and Percy screams at you to move but you've forgotten how to. The blaring of the other driver's horn is so loud you can't think and Percy suddenly shoves your head down and covers you with his body. You press your eyes closed and wait for the impact. Which takes longer than you expect. So long that you're finally aware that the horn has stopped. Percy moves off of you and you lift your head to see the driver sticking out his middle finger at you as he drives away. You let out a sigh of relief and say, “oh my g— OW!“ Percy twists your ear and brings it close to his mouth so he can yell into it. “FUCKING IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING DO YOU WANT TO DIE?! DON'T YOU KNOW WHERE THE FUCKING BRAKE PEDAL IS YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKING CRAZY IDIOT imbecile MENTALLY CHALLENGED—“and he goes on and on for the next five minutes it takes you to get the car back to the house. You lock the car and he roughly takes the keys from you. Watching him walk up the front steps you're surprised when he says, “the next time we do this you're driving in a field, bitch.” “Thank you!“ you yell as the front doors slam shut. [[NEXT->Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>You've always heard those jokes that people put the most random shit on their resume because you need to fill the page with stuff. Well... the advantage that comes with being an outcast is that no one really knows you. You could say anything. <<set $RL to true>> And so slowly and cautiously typing with your forefingers on the keys you write your full name, the manor phone number and that you're in high school. After that you say that you've worked part-time at the family office under Sally. You get the feeling if he's called as a reference he won't be happy to know you're getting a job but he'll lie for you. Then you say you mowed lawns, you delivered newspapers, and sold lemonade. You make sure to add to your fake jobs that they were done on supernatural turf so that if you ever do get a job in town, the human employers won't call. If you use this resume to get a job outside of town, the calls won't reach the town so they won't know you're lying. You manage to fill a page and you find it fun to make up new jobs you've never had. Just by face-value, you're a rather accomplished individual. //Congrats, $name//, you sarcastically think. Printing it off is a whole other matter that you ask the librarian to once again help with. You flinch when the hunk of metal whirs out your thin resume. You don't think you'll ever be into technology like this. Freshly warm in your hand, you put it into a manila folder and shove it in your $holder. Well, that's enough productivity until tomorrow. <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292][$drive to true]] * [[Check out universities.|Page 292-U][$university to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>You have worked. That's not a lie. Yes, your jobs aren't legal. Yes, it could very well send you to jail or a direct meeting with the mayor which is probably worse than going to jail. You don't think your alliance with Imre would help much. But it's not fair that you risk your ass every week to help people and not being able to use that for real experience. You're not sure what sort of legitimate jobs you could get with the experience you have but one thing you know about resumes is that it's bad if it looks empty. So maybe you do say some of the things you did but... play around with them a bit. You just really need references anyway. <<if $S31 >>So, for Mr. Ewekes you... cleaned? You nod to yourself. Yes, you cleaned his house. And exterminated a plethora of rats. Normal rats.<<elseif $S32 >>Tina's shop was suffering from... you ponder. No, not suffering, you merely helped her create some art due to an uptake in demand.<<elseif $S33 >>You type without thinking with Asia's case. Matchmaker seems too juvenile, so you say that you helped them clean the lake a bit for trash thrown in by teenagers.<</if>> <<if $S41 >>You pinch your lip as you think of what to say about Phoenix. You were a... a food deliverer? Eh, it's better than nothing. Delivery to a sickly child, yeah that sounds noble.<<elseif $S42 >>You pause when thinking about Charley who skipped town. There goes that reference. You simply type, //Religious teen counselor for odd youths.//<<elseif $S43 >>Your blood still boils as you think of Stanley. That asshole better give a glowing reference and you know what? You leave up the lie to him.<</if>> You manage to fill a page and your cases look generic enough to look boring. Huh, you're a rather accomplished individual, and generous too. Look at you, giving back to the community. <<set $RS to true>> //Congrats, $name//, you sarcastically think. Printing it off is a whole other matter that you ask the librarian to once again help with. You flinch when the hunk of metal whirs out your thin resume. You don't think you'll ever be into technology like this. Freshly warm in your hand, you put it into a manila folder and shove it in your $holder. Well, that's enough productivity until tomorrow. <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292][$drive to true]] * [[Check out universities.|Page 292-U][$university to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>You open the pamphlet for the New York school and you're immediately greeted with those two identical buildings that are apparently famous for having a restaurant on top of one but you don't remember which one. You've actually never thought of New York as a place people go to. Worst, a place you could go to. It's huge and very noisy. Seems too cosmopolitan for someone like you, but maybe that's what you need. A new place. A huge place where you're just one of a million. No stares, no whispers, no one. Talk about weight of carrying all of that in this town. <<set $UNY to true>> You wouldn't even need to know how to drive there. It's not yet set in stone anyway, you might not even be accepted but one can dream. You decide to pick up an application form from the guidance office as soon as you can. Is there anything else you have time to squeeze in? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R][$resume to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>You'd still be somewhere that looks and feels like home. You would have the trees still, the weather. It wouldn't be that much of a cultural shock. Whatever issues you have with your town isn't due to the land nor climate. The other universities are so vastly different from your home that it could be a problem, but this is like a nice soft landing into a bigger world. Could someone like you survive in such a big place? You've never been much for friends or talking to others, although that's changing now but it could be very lonely. However, you've been lonely all your whole life. It might be better to be lonely watching the strait. Talk about weight. <<set $UBC to true>> You wouldn't even need to know how to drive there. It's not yet set in stone anyway, you might not even be accepted but one can dream. You decide to pick up an application form from the guidance office as soon as you can. Is there anything else you have time to squeeze in? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R][$resume to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>California is hot. You've never stepped foot in a place that makes you sweat. You don't even have what would be considered 'summer' clothes. People who live there are a certain type that's far removed from what you are. People go to Cali to be someone, to be known, they show their bodies as if it were nothing. They're gorgeous. It seems so exposed. There are creepy things though, places where you would fit right in such as those abandoned ghost houses of old stars. But, for all the cons of California, you could easily turn it into a positive. If people go there to reinvent themselves, perhaps you could too? Wouldn't it be so much easier to let go of yourself as you've always been to take on something else? Quicker than trying to muck through who you are. Talk about weight. <<set $UC to true>> You could go everywhere on a bike or rollerblades. It's not yet set in stone anyway, you might not even be accepted but one can dream. You decide to pick up an application form from the guidance office as soon as you can. Is there anything else you have time to squeeze in? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R][$resume to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>So many people confuse Toronto for the nation's capital because it's like the only city people can really name from the country. All that you know about that city is that it has that building that looks like the one in Seattle. A very long elevator ride. That and the subway. It's like New York which is why so many American shows are filmed there. You don't know if you see yourself going to school there. You're not much of a social butterfly and you've never been to a city that big, how could you find your footing? But that's what leaving home is for right? Seems too cosmopolitan for someone like you, but maybe that's what you need. A new place. A huge place where you're just one of a million. No stares, no whispers, no one. Talk about weight of carrying all of that in this town. <<set $UT to true>> You wouldn't even need to know how to drive there. That's what the subway and buses are for. It's not yet set in stone anyway, you might not even be accepted but one can dream. You decide to pick up an application form from the guidance office as soon as you can. Is there anything else you have time to squeeze in? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R][$resume to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>The main character of this game doesn't know who they are. They've never tried to figure it out. When the story begins they refer to themself as the gender they were assigned to. But an important piece of their arc is finding out what they want and who they are. In the spirit of that, the MC and therefore you who play them will have the chance to come out as your true gender in Episode 5 along with the pronouns aligned with that gender. If you're MC is non-binary than this is the same, with gender neutral options. So it is suggested that for this journey to make sense, please choose the pronouns your character was assigned to at birth. That way the coding won't go wonky. This approach feels much more organic with MC's journey. Thank you. //[[EPISODE SPONSOR->Episode Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3>Phoenix licks their top lip and contemplates you for a moment. “I kind of always knew, deep down. I was born a girl but I didn't like when people called me that and I didn't like being a called a boy either. I'm just me.” You nod, her words sounding awfully familiar to things you've said, never out loud but you've felt those words there. Waiting... “And... 'they'... people really use it like they use 'she' or 'he'?” They nod slowly, “kind of. But really the whole point is not being tied to any gender, it's something to call us but it's not a rigid, tiny box. It's like a...,” they pause and then smile, “it's like being on a grassy field in the middle of summer.” You feel a smile spread on your face. <hr>\ * [[“Doesn't the light bother you?”]] * [[“How does it taste like?”]] * [[“So, what does your mom feed you?”]] * [[“How did you get like this?”]] </h3>

<h3>Anyway, that's that. You focus on the present and right now you're currently a box from a pile by the wall that is identical to the other piles against all walls of the attic. There's no real rhyme or reason to the amount of historical crap from all decades of the Crown/Croun family. It's all been allowed to collect dust up here. Withering away like the great name and prestige that the people these — clothes, knicknacks, pictures, shoes, accesories, jewelry — belonged to. You step over Lorcan, who's sprawled on the floor, with a bunch of things from a box he's looking through on his lap. His method is just dumping things instead of looking carefully through the box. The first time Lorcan did that, Imre 'accidentally' hit him with a box. Speaking of the devil, he sits cross-legged on a rickety rocking-chair by the dusty window. It took him a bit of effort to open the window to relieve the stuffiness of the room. He methodically goes through every item in all the boxes he grabs. Holding everything from a coat to a pair of earrings with delicate hands. You grunt as you lay the cardboard box on the ground, dusting your hands off. Sinking to your knees you open the flaps and peer inside. “More clothes,” you inform the room. “How long have we been doing this shit?” Lorcan asks. Imre looks up from a snowglobe he's holding and replies, “today makes five days.” Lorcan looks around the room as you take out a thick linen skirt. “Is it me or have we barely looked at anything like I feel like we still have the same amount of stuff to go through,” he says. “That's not true at all. I'd estimate we have ninety or so boxes, give or take. In the better part of a week we've at least opened thirty percent of them,” Imre muses. “Oh you estimate,” Lorcan mocks with an affected voice. You brace yourself for another spat but Imre just goes back to looking at the snowglobe. Instead of pestering and needling, Lorcan kicks the empty box away from him and goes to grab another. You don't know when this started but lately they've been fighting less and less. You wouldn't say they liked each other but they don't entirely irk each other anymore. You pull out a man's shirt and sneeze as the dust tickles your nose. “Gesundheit,” Imre says. You rub your nose. “Thanks.” “You better not get sick, you can't do shit if you're sick,” Lorcan warns. “That almost sounds like you wish the best for me,” you remark. Lorcan rolls his eyes and throws a sock at you. You look to see Imre shake his head in disapproval but there's a hint of a smile on his face. Somehow, your little group of discount teen detectives is getting along. But what about you, your personal feelings? <hr>\ * [[You like spending time with the boys->Page 294][$scoob to true]] * [[This is just because you have to (Truth)->Page 294][$scoob2 to true]] * [[This is just because you have to (Lie)->Page 294][$scoob3 to true]] </h3>

<h3>You turn the wheel until you can't anymore and let your foot off the brake. The car slowly backs up and you pray you don't hit the trees behind you. Keeping your foot slightly touching the brake for safety you watch as the car slowly aligns with the dirt path. You hit the brake when you're facing forward. You let out a sigh of relief. You didn't ding it. The way you backed up made it so that you're not facing the way that leads to the road but rather to more patchy space, free of the trees around the house. You shift to drive and without adding any gas you slowly drive around the property. Making sure to stay close to the house. You still stop completely before taking a turn and you're not yet ready to add more gas but you're driving. Parking the car back in its original spot isn't your forte, and the car ends up leaning more to the side but that's only if you're looking for it. Smiling to yourself you practically skip up the steps and return the keys on it's hanger with the others. [[NEXT->Page 293*]] </h3>

<h3>You turn the wheel until you can't anymore and let your foot off the brake. The car slowly backs up and you pray you don't hit the trees behind you. You're too busy watching the trees that you don't notice the big tree next to the car. You feel the car jerk to the right and then the sound of metal. Eyes wide you look to see your door slide against the tree. Pressing your foot on the brake you cover your mouth with your hand. Shit. Shit. Shit. You shift the car into drive and roll the wheel to the other side. It screeches against the trunk again but you righten yourself. You slowly drive the car back to its original spot and turn it off. Getting out of the car you look at the outside of the door and wince. A thick line, scraped of color now adorns the door. You look around and think. What to do? <hr>\ * [[Lie.->LIEC]] * [[Cover it up.]] </h3>

<h3>You shrug and lock the car. Running up the steps of the front door you go inside and hang up the keys along with the others. That night when Sally gets home and angrily inquires to Percy, as to who scratched the car? You look down at your plate and pretend nothing is wrong. You do witness a huge fight which, ends with Percy throwing his plate on the ground and storming out of the house. Sally spends the rest of the meal eating, his irritation showing in how his fork scrapes against the plate. You make a mental note to wait at least a week before trying to drive again. Do you have time for anything else? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292][$grades to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292][$resume to true]] * [[Check out universities.|Page 292-U][$university to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>You go rummaging in the linen closet. You find old dusty white sheets at the back and throw them over all the idle cars. Running up the steps of the front door you go inside and hang up the keys along with the others. That night at dinner, when Sally asks why the cars arw covered up? You respond, “it's to keep them clean. They're already rusting and bunch of crap always falls on them.” Sally thinks about this for a moment and nods, “you're absolutely right.” Percy shoots you a knowing look and you take a bite into you slurp your soup. You make a mental note to wait at least a week before trying to drive again. Do you have time for anything else? <hr>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292][$grades to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292][$resume to true]] * [[Check out universities.|Page 292-U][$university to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] </h3>

<h3><<if $scoob>>\ Better yet, you look forward to it. All the other times you've ran into them or met them individually, and together you wouldn't say you enjoyed their company or sought it. But now, even though you're not hanging out for recreation, it's still almost fun. You've never had much companionship, it's always been you in this big house alone and now everyday at different hours these two come over and you silently work together. There's still random remarks sometimes, jokes, sarcasm and insults. It feels so normal. You've come to consider this the best part of your day. It's strange how feelings of closeness are born. And it's even stranger who with. You like the way Imre shows so much care for older things. You like the way Lorcan is the complete opposite, he isn't awed by all this history and glamour. You would feel a bit stupid if you started randomly smiling so you throw the clothes back into the box and go fetch another. [[NEXT->Page 295]] <<elseif $scoob2>>\ You threw caution to the wind and decided to put your nose in someone else's business. It would be Candace's, Stephanie's, Sammy's and all the countless other people who died's business. And when you're throwing caution to the wind, you need to do shit you don't want to to keep being allowed to throw away caution. And this is the prime example. You never wanted to spend less time with two people than these two. They're violent, selfish, think they know better than you. Not content with disturbing you with their presence in town, they've invaded your home too. All you can do is count your days, hope for a new breakthrough so you can finally have your days to yourself and never speak to anyone from your school again. With a huff, you throw the clothes back into the box and go fetch another. [[NEXT->Page 295]] <<elseif $scoob3>>\ You threw caution to the wind and decided to put your nose in someone else's business. It would be Candace's, Stephanie's, Sammy's and all the countless other people who died's business. And when you're throwing caution to the wind, you need to do shit you don't want to to keep being allowed to throw away caution. And this is the prime example. You never wanted to spend less time with two people than these two. They're violent, selfish, think they know better than you. Not content with disturbing you with their presence in town, they've invaded your home too. Ugh, like why are humans social creatures? You hate how the hours fly by when you're with them. You despise how Imre spouts out historical facts like a goddamn textbook and you loathe when Lorcan hums tunes from songs on the radio. And the audacity, the true audacity, the utter audacity to be as nice as they can to you within your own home? Ass-kissers! Both of them! Before you really lose it and kick them out, you throw the clothes back into the box and go fetch another. [[NEXT->Page 295]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Standing in the middle of all this clutter you look around. None of the boxes are marked, and even if they were you're not exactly sure what you're looking for. The original plan was to find something that could tell you about any of the other victims before your sister, but then that whole scene with your mother happened. You had asked Imre if he knew anything about Nia's mother, he said that he barely remembers what she looked like and then he asked you the same question and you gave the same answer. Lorcan only said that all he knows about 'that lady was that she was crazy.' So now your focus has shifted to finding anything you can on Yasmine Mir. Imre theorized that if your group can find out more about her it could potentially lead to what she was so frightened of that made her fear for Nia's life; In turn made your mother believe that Orla was killed for not listening to her. The easiest thing would be asking Nia herself, but... that's proved difficult. She's been dodging Imre and avoiding both of your calls. She's been hanging out with her other friends, the ones she hates which, means she's really committed to not speaking to any of you. <<if $hateN>>\ Typically of her, she's there being a bitch when you don't need her around and then when you do, she gets the hint that you don't like her. <<elseif $angryN>>\ Wow, so shocking that she's so selfish. If she left you to wallow alone in the worst period of your life, why would she give a shit about her own mother? <<elseif $shrugN>>\ You're not sure if you should take her distance as personal. You're torn between being relieved she's away from you and wanting her here with you. <<elseif $careN>>\ You had hoped she would come around. If not to fix her relationship with you, at least so you could have the excuse to hang out with her like old times. <</if>>\ You $habit as you survey the next box you'll look through. <hr>\ * [[Grab the one near the window.->Page 296][$windowb to true]] * [[Grab one near the overflowing wall.->Page 296][$wallb to true]] * [[Grab the nearest at hand.->Page 296][$nearb to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $windowb >>\ You walk to the other side of the room and bend down to a very dusty light-bleached box. The moment you pick it up your eyes widen at the heaviness. Quickly stepping over Lorcan's legs you sink to the floor and let the box slip from your arms. The first thing you see when you open the box, is a letter. You take it in your hands and the paper feels old, brittle and it's yellowing at the corners. You bring it close to your face and squint at the fading black inked words. It's dated to March 21st, 1926. //Dear Adameus, I cannot tolerate our separation much longer. Every day from morning till night, I'm in agony from your departure. The world has become a dull, colorless place and the things that once gave me joy, no longer interest me. Is this hell? Do you feel the same? Mother warned me that men do not feel as we do. That we as women hold them in our hearts, whereas they find another to occupy their thoughts and bed. But you're not like that. You have shown me. Please, my love, return to me as soon as you can so that we might finally be free of our parents and this dreadful town. Yours forever, Adelina.// You think of where you've heard these names before. Your father, when he was deeply drunk on holidays would start telling stories about your family by the fireplace and you and your siblings would sit on the carpet and listen. Ah, now you know. Adelina and Adameus were twins who were... very close. A memorable scene your father recounted was about Adelina's engagement to a local boy from a family who had newly arrived in town. According to legend, Adameus started drinking and publicly challenged the boy to a duel. The siblings did run away but quickly returned when Adelina got 'sick.' She went to a doctor and didn't survive the procedure. Amadeus threw himself into the lake. Because of these two, the rumours of constant incest in your family has never died down and have incited the insults launched at you and Sally. So a big 'fuck you' to the twins. You put the letter back and rummage through the rest of the box, which only contains Adelina's things and two locks of hair intertwined in a locket shaped like a heart. “Yo, I think I found somethin’,” Lorcan guesses. [[NEXT->Page 297]] <<elseif $wallb>>\ You randomly select a box peeking out from behind the others and drag it out from the darkness it's laid in for some years. It feels heavy so you don't even attempt to lift it, dragging it along with your foot. Nudging Lorcan's legs away you move it to your usual spot and sit down. When you open the box you see something glinting. You stick your hand in and feel cool metal, something with weight, pulling it out your eyebrows raise at the rusty gun in your hand. “Hey I think— what the fuck is that?” Lorcan asks. You hold the gun in your hands and Imre responds, “I’m surprised we haven't found more weapons.” Lorcan scoots closer and takes the gun from you. Peering at the engraving he reads, “M...misses Steel...throw...er.” “That was your great-great-great grand-uncle's gun, Demetrius Croun,” Imre states, walking up to you. “How do you know?” Imre holds out his hand and Lorcan gives it to him. “In eighth grade I did a project on notable people, both good and bad, and I spent ten minutes talking about your uncle. He was one of those trigger-happy gangsters who resolved all business and personal issues through murder. His own family wasn't safe. From my research he had deep psychological issues.” Imre throws the gun back into the box, “he was hanged.” “And the name of the gun?” you ask. “It’s pretty self-explanatory,” he replies with a shrug. He looks to Lorcan, “you were going to say something?” Lorcan looks up surprised and says, “yeah. I think I found something.” [[NEXT->Page 297]] <<elseif $nearb>>\ Reaching out you drag a beaten up stained box towards you. You rub the dust on your pants and open the box. You take out a black velvet shirt and throw it aside. They’re more things like keychains, buttons, laces, earrings without the other pair, tubes of lipstick without their cap, pens, and a red nail polish. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You examine the polish and immediately know this box has your mother's things. You dig deeper, past heels and pearls until you touch something that sounds like glass and pull it out. In an oxidized green frame there’ a group picture in black and white. You swipe your hand over the glass and rub that on your pants too. Looking back at you, they're three rows of people, some sitting, others standing. You see the reflection of your eyes slowly move along the faces. You count 16 in all. None of them are smiling, rather they look intensely into the camera, almost angry. Some wear pins but you can’t make out the image. Your $eyecolor eyes darken as you see the younger version of your father standing in the middle of the second row. His hard eyes mirror yours. His hands grasp the chair in front him on that which sits your mother. Her hands are folded in her lap, she looks put-together and within her expression is that same intensity as the others but the emotion doesn't seem to be anger or whatever feeling you think you see but rather irritation. There’s no plaque, no indication of what this picture is for. And you're almost about to discard it as another useless relic from your family's storied history when you see someone you hadn't noticed before. She stands to the very side, you would say almost apart from the others. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she’s dressed primly, her tight curls in a bun. Her brown skin a shade you recognize. Even the look she's giving the camera is different, perhaps there's some sadness there or nerves? “Guys, I think I found Yasmine,” you declare. [[NEXT->Page 297]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $windowb>>\ You and Imre crouch on either side of the Lorcan and peer over his shoulders at the picture frame he holds up. It's a black and white group picture. You count 16 in all. None of them are smiling, rather they look intensely into the camera, almost angry. Your $eyecolor eyes darken as you see the younger version of your father standing in the middle of the second row. His hard eyes mirror yours. His hands grasp the chair in front him on that which sits your mother. Her hands are folded on her lap, she looks put-together and within her expression is that same intensity as the others but the emotion doesn't seem to be anger or whatever feeling you think you see but rather irritation. There's no plaque, no indication of what this picture is for. And you're almost about to discard it as another useless relic useless from your family's storied history, when you see someone you hadn't noticed before. She stands to the very side, you would say almost apart from the others. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she's dressed primly, her tight curls in a bun. Her brown skin a shade you recognize. Even the look she's giving the camera is different, perhaps there's some sadness there or nerves? “She must be Yasmine,” you point at the woman. “Thanks Einstein, that's why I said I found something,” Lorcan retorts without much bite. “And there's my //papá//,” Imre's fingernail circles around the face of a man near your father. You're surprised by the spitting image Imre is to his father. It's not like you've never seen the mayor but it was when you were a child. The only marked difference is Mayor Duran's gray hair, crow's feet and moustache. There's that same glint though. You all stare at the picture silently. [[NEXT->Page 298]] <<elseif $wallb>>\ You and Imre crouch on either side of the Lorcan and peer over his shoulders at the picture frame he holds up. It's a black and white group picture. You count 16 in all. None of them are smiling, rather they look intensely into the camera, almost angry. Your $eyecolor eyes darken as you see the younger version of your father standing in the middle of the second row. His hard eyes mirror yours. His hands grasp the chair in front him on that which sits your mother. Her hands are folded on her lap, she looks put-together and within her expression is that same intensity as the others but the emotion doesn't seem to be anger or whatever feeling you think you see but rather irritation. There's no plaque, no indication of what this picture is for. And you're almost about to discard it as another useless relic useless from your family's storied history when you see someone you hadn't noticed before. She stands to the very side, you would say almost apart from the others. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she's dressed primly, her tight curls in a bun. Her brown skin a shade you recognize. Even the look she's giving the camera is different, perhaps there's some sadness there or nerves? “She must be Yasmine,” you point at the woman. “Thanks Einstein, that's why I said I found something,” Lorcan retorts without much bite. “And there's my //papá//,” Imre's fingernail circles around the face of a man near your father. You're surprised by the spitting image Imre is to his father. It's not like you've never seen the mayor but it was when you were a child. The only marked difference is Mayor Duran's gray hair, crow's feet and moustache. There's that same glint though. You all stare at the picture silently. [[NEXT->Page 298]] <<elseif $nearb>>\ Lorcan and Imre crouch to either side of you and peer over your shoulders at the picture. “Literally looks like Nia, that's totally her mom,” Lorcan points at the woman. “Thanks lieutenant obvious,” you snark good-humouredly. Lorcan raises his eyebrow at you and looks back at the picture. “And there's my //papá//,” Imre's fingernail circles around the face of a man near your father. You're surprised by the spitting image Imre is to his father. It's not like you've never seen the mayor but it was when you were a child. The only marked difference is Mayor Duran's gray hair, crow's feet and moustache. There's that same glint though. You all stare at the picture silently. [[NEXT->Page 298]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“Any ideas dear captain?” Lorcan asks Imre in a half-serious tone. Imre throws him a look that seems to you as if he believes himself to be so. “I have to try Nia once more, maybe if I show her this picture she might be interested in telling us anything she knows about Yasmine or at least letting us look through her mother’s things,” he formulates. “Or it could make her never want to speak to any of us again,” you counter. “Yes, that’s just as likely,” he accepts, “but none of this is easy. Perhaps, I could try to broach the subject slowly, with compassion.” You’re surprised Imre would risk his friendship with Nia. He feels your stare and mirrors it. His face blank. “And what do we do while you’re being the snake charmer?” Lorcan inquires. Imre runs his hand through his hair and stands up. “I have no clue. Go to school, do your work, keep up appearances,” Imre instructs and rolls down his sleeves as he walks to the attic door. He bends down and lifts the door. He looks over his shoulder, saying, “and please. Do try and stay out of trouble.” [[NEXT->Page 299]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan scoffs as Imre decends. You two begin putting everything back. Well, you do. Lorcan just throws things haphazardly into boxes and kicks them across the room. With some effort you stack a heavy box ontop a pile that you fear might topple in the middle of the night. You wipe your forehead and turn to see Lorcan looking at a polaroid in his hands. Before you can do anything he says, “wasn’t this like in '89?” You come up next to him and see a photo taken of your fourteenth birthday. The exposure makes the table, the cake, the candles and you and your sister look almost non-human; in the darkness of the background you can make out your mother and your brothers. <hr>\ * [[“Huh, I hadn’t thought about that for years.”|Page 300][$convoyes to true]] * [[“You aren’t gonna steal that are you?”|Page 300][$convoish to true]] * [[“Leave my house.”|Page 300][$convono to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $convoyes>>\ “But yes, it was. That was the year there was a very bad snowstorm,” you reply. “Duh, I know I was there,” he attests. You snort, “bullshit. Mother wouldn't of let you step foot in the house.” Lorcan smirks, “yeah yeah yeah your bitch mom didn’t want me there but Orla forced her.” You look at that cake. It was three tiers. It was //Orla's// cake, it had all she asked for, and none of what you had. Her only caprice that wasn't fulfilled was blowing out the candles by herself. “We never got to eat that cake,” you muse. “That was like half the reason I came to this fucking house,” Lorcan admits. “Maybe your girlfriend should’ve thought of you before she did what she did,” you claim. Lorcan makes a face and looks up from the picture, “what the hell are you talking about?” You give him an equally puzzled face, “she threw that cake in my face.” Lorcan blinks once at you, his face still confused. Then he laughs. [[NEXT->Page 301]] <<elseif $convoish>>\ Lorcan narrows his eyes, “why would I steal an old picture?” You cross your arms, “because you’re obsessed with her. Didn’t you lose it when I couldn’t give you her necklace?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “you’re such a drama queen, I asked if you had it is all.” You scoff and say, “Lorcan you were about to kill yourself because you didn't have one little thing that belonged to her to remember her by.” Lorcan shakes his head, “nope. You,” he points an accusing finger, “just think the worst of me but I’m fine.” You give him a disbelieving look, “so you don’t cry yourself to sleep every night thinking that you’ll never see your one true love again?” “You know maybe you’re the one who’s obsessed with her,” Lorcan retorts. You open your mouth to respond in kind but he says, “no one ever even got to eat this stupid cake.” You close your mouth and peer down at the picture again. It was three tiers. It was //Orla’s// cake, it had all she asked for, and none of what you had. Her only caprice that wasn't fulfilled was blowing out the candles by herself. “Maybe if the dead girl you weren’t so crazy about hadn’t thrown it in my face we could’ve,” you taunt. Lorcan blinks once at you, his face still confused. Then he laughs. [[NEXT->Page 301]] <<elseif $convono >>\ Lorcan throws you an annoyed look, “and this is why I always treat you like shit. You’re fucking unlikable.” You rip the picture out of his hands and push him to the door. “OK, OK! I get it!“ he claims as you shove him to the open hole. He turns around, bends down and steps onto the ladder. He looks up at you, “can I have—“ “Go,” you demand. He clamps his mouth shut and climbs down. You follow suit. He waits by the ladder and watches as you slide the ladder up and push the hatch closed. You look at each other and right as he seems to be about to say something Percy jogs up the final steps of the stairs and walks into the hall. He’s looking down at a cassette and almost bumps into you. “What the—“ He looks up at you with surprise and mild annoyance, then he looks behind you and his eyes widen. “Making it through the whole family, Lorcan?” A slow smile spreads on his face. [[NEXT->Page 303]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You take a step back as he throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. He laughs so hard he has to grab his stomach. You cross your arms even tighter and tap your foot as you wait for his fit to calm down. Wiping his eyes he sticks the picture in front of your face and you swat his hand away which restarts the laughing fest. You think momentarily of pushing him down the open hole that is the door of the attic. “Uf,” he breathes. He tries to smooth out the now crumpled picture and with lingering amusement he asks, “you really just believe what you want to believe don't you?” Your nose scrunches up, “what's that supposed to mean?” “Like anything that could make you look shitty you fuck with it in your head to be the victim,” he continues, huffing out a laugh. “I will kick you down the hatch Lorcan Stark,” you threaten. He looks you up and down. “Orla threw that cake in your face after you threw it in hers,” he snickers. Your teeth clench. <hr>\ * [[“You're lying.”->Page 302][$rod1 to true]] * [[“I don't remember that.”(Truth)->Page 302][$rod2 to true]] * [[“That's not how I remember it.”(Lie)->Page 302][$rod3 to true]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan's mouth falls open. Your face is aghast as you stare at your brother. “I'm... w-wha...,” Lorcan stammers. Percy smiles devilishly and goads, “are you trying to make your way through the whole family?” “Percy,” you scowl. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You fucked one sister, now you wanna try the other, old sport?” he continues with a sneer.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You fucked my sister, now you wanna try my brother, old sport?” he continues with a sneer.<</if>> Lorcan looks sick as your brother finishes his sentence and shoots you a quick look, his eyes pleading. “Percy, shut your stupid ass up and go ruin someone else's day. Preferably yours,” you suggest, your voice betraying your irritation. Percy smiles widely at you and replies, “and you... I didn't think you had it in you. You have serious issues. Like really fucking bad.” Your eyes harden as he keeps talking. “But,” he lifts a finger, “I'm impressed by how fucking batshit crazy the jealousy you have for Orla is like not only do you hate her STILL but you also want to be her.” “Bravo $name,” he finishes, and claps. Lorcan, impossibly, looks even paler than his normal tone. You have no doubt he wants to never come back to this house again. Percy's eyes drip with that malice so characteristic of your family, you've seen it in the reflection of your eyes in the window of a sunny day. “And I thought you were a virgin.” <hr>\ * [[You stomp on Percy's foot.|Page 304][$stomp to true]] * [[You shove past him.|Page 304][$shove to true]] * [[You play along.|Page 304][$playal to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $rod1 >>\ “She threw that cake in my face because she didn't want me to blow out the candles with her,” you attest. “You're calling me a liar? //You//?” he asks sarcastically. You nod. He stares at you for a few more seconds and then just shakes his head. “Whatever Crowny, it was years ago anyway.” He lets the picture fall to the ground and stretches. You hear the sound of tires and go to the window. You catch the edge of Percy's green Mustang and you swear. “You have to go. Now.” Lorcan yawns, “I wasn't gonna sleep in this creepy house.” He walks to the hatch, turns around, bends down and steps onto the ladder. Climbing down before you, he waits and watches as you slide the ladder up and push the hatch closed. You look at each other and right as he seems to be about to say something, Percy jogs up the final steps of the stairs and walks into the hall. He's looking down at a cassette and almost bumps into you. “What the—“ He looks up at you with surprise and mild annoyance, then he looks behind you and his eyes widen. “Making it through the whole family, Lorcan?” A slow smile spreads on his face. [[NEXT->Page 303]] <<elseif $rod2>>\ “I'm pretty sure that when I was bending down to blow the candles out, she dunked my face into the icing out of nowhere,” you hesitate, “that's what I remembered.” Lorcan looks unimpressed and replies, “maybe it's Alzheimer's.” In the past when Lorcan has said something of this nature it was with a cruel tone, something meant to belittle you. But his face holds no hint of malice. “Maybe,” you cede. “You should get that checked,” he adds. He stares at you for a few more seconds and then just shakes his head. “It was years ago anyway, it doesn't matter.” He lets the picture fall to the ground and stretches. You hear the sound of tires and go to the window. You catch the edge of Percy's green Mustang and you swear. “You have to go. Now.” Lorcan yawns, “I wasn't gonna sleep in this creepy house.” He walks to the hatch, turns around, bends down and steps onto the ladder. Climbing down before you, he waits and watches as you slide the ladder up and push the hatch closed. You look at each other and right as he seems to be about to say something, Percy jogs up the final steps of the stairs and walks into the hall. He's looking down at a cassette and almost bumps into you. “What the—“ He looks up at you with surprise and mild annoyance, then he looks behind you and his eyes widen. “Making it through the whole family, Lorcan?” A slow smile spreads on his face. [[NEXT->Page 303]] <<elseif $rod3 >>\ “She grabbed the cake with her gross dirty hands and dropped it over my head, lit candles included,” you maintain. Lorcan looks at you with a mixture of disbelief and awe, “you're so good at believing your own bullshit so much that if I didn't hate you I'd say it's sick.” “Who's the bullshitter? The one who saw her for what she truly was or the lovesick discount Romeo that waited on her hand and foot?” you ask facetiously. Instead of getting angry as he does when you ridicule his devotion to your sister, he just looks at you as if he can't believe the audacity. He looks up at the ceiling and just shakes his head. Eventually he sighs and says, “ok, Crowny. Whatever. Be crazy and think what you want.” “I will because it happened,” you affirm, the words tinged with lies slipping so forcefully and confidently out of your mouth. Lorcan just shakes his head, an haughty smile on his face. He lets the picture fall to the ground and stretches. You hear the sound of tires and go to the window. You catch the edge of Percy's green Mustang and you swear. “You have to go. Now.” Lorcan yawns, “I wasn't gonna sleep in this creepy house.” He walks to the hatch, turns around, bends down and steps onto the ladder. Climbing down before you, he waits and watches as you slide the ladder up and push the hatch closed. You look at each other and right as he seems to be about to say something, Percy jogs up the final steps of the stairs and walks into the hall. He's looking down at a cassette and almost bumps into you. “What the—“ He looks up at you with surprise and mild annoyance, then he looks behind you and his eyes widen. “Making it through the whole family, Lorcan?” A slow smile spreads on his face. [[NEXT->Page 303]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $stomp>>\ You bring your shoe down hard on your brother's foot and his smile quickly vanishes, he stumbles back against the wall, a yelp on his lips. Sliding down the wall, he grabs his foot and you usher Lorcan down the hall towards the stairs. “I WAS ONLY JOKING FOR FUCK'S SAKE,” Percy yells behind you. Lorcan practically runs down the stairs and you try to keep up with him. He throws open the door and runs down the front steps. “$name! I WASN'T BEING SERIOUS OH MY GODDDD.” You barely have time to poke your head out the front door before you see Lorcan dash down the dirt path, the trees hiding him. You yell, “call me if you hear anything!“ “$name I THINK YOU BROKE MY FUCKING FOOT!“ You close the door, sighing as you head upstairs. “IF I HAVE TO STAY IN THIS HOUSE ON A BED YOU'RE GOING TO SUFFER WITH ME!“ Percy complains, his voice petulant and whiny. The next few hours show you how much Percy can fuss. [[NEXT->Page 305]] <<elseif $shove>>\ You growl and shove him aside, grabbing Lorcan's arm and ushering him to the stairs. Your brother's laugh follows you two down the stairs. “$name I was kidding, come on!“ Percy assures from upstairs. Lorcan jerks his arm out of your hand and practically runs to the door, flinging it open and skipping nearly all the front steps in his desire to be gone as quickly as possible. “You can't even making a fucking joke nowadays without crybabies.” You barely have time to poke your head out the front door before you see Lorcan dash down the dirt path, the trees hiding him. You yell, “call me if you hear anything!“ “I'm not going to say sorry because it was funny,” he pauses, “TO ME.” You close the door, sighing as you head upstairs. “No one ever appreciates my humor! But the day I die, you'll miss me!“ Percy insists. And he continues this until dinner. [[NEXT->Page 305]] <<elseif $playal >>\ You relax your features. Sensing the change in you, your brother's cruel expression fades. You give him a sly smile and say, “nothing gets past you bro.” Lorcan starts choking on air. Percy looks at you for a moment and then chuckles incredulously, “so it's fucking true?” His eyes flicker from you to Lorcan and back. “You two are fucking?” You refrain from adding a giggle to your performance, “oh yeahhhh. You know the attic? We've been going at it like nasty rabbits all week.” Lorcan makes a noise that sounds like he might cry. Percy's smile falters and his posture suddenly doesn't seem so assured. You grin as you stand taller. “Um... are you being for real?” You give him your most award-winning smile and reply with a friendly tone, “no!“ You don't give him time to recover before moving past him. You have to guide Lorcan to the stairs, his arm rigid under your fingers. It's like trying to walk with a manneqin. You have to force him down the stairs and to the door. He stands at the threshold and you roll your eyes before pushing him through. You manually turn him around to face you. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Touché little sister!“ your brother's voice yields from upstairs.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Touché little brother!“ your brother's voice yields from upstairs.<</if>> You grab Lorcan by the shoulders and instruct slowly, “if you hear anything, call me.” You await a response. Lorcan swallows once before nodding. “Bye,” you reply and close the door in his face. [[NEXT->Page 305]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><center>❖</center> Believe it or not the hallways are even rowdier at the end of the school day than they are before first bell or lunch. Boys walk side by side, blocking the flow and creating a traffic jam. Girls like bees, migrate locker to locker to pick up more for their colony. Then there are those like you with no friends who try to get in and out as fast as possible. That's usually you, but if you can't you wait in the bathrooms until it's cleared up. But in biology, Imre passed you a note — this raised some eyebrows — which said to wait by your locker. He signed it. <<audio "rock" loop play>> The cold metal of your locker, cools your head, your back and your legs. Your $holder lays by your feet and your arms are crossed over your chest. You observe the activity around you like a detective. Which, is technically what you now are. You notice little things like how Madison Scott didn't have a hickey at lunch but now a purple bruise peeks out from under a poorly arranged scarf. How Tyler Watts is trying his hardest to walk normally but he winces when he tries to catch up with his friends. How Jessica Holms stays in Mr. Carter's classroom after final bell with the door closed, someone should report that. And you come to the conclusion that... <hr>\ * [[People are transparent.|Page 306][$transp to true]] * [[You look like a creep.|Page 306][$creepy to true]] * [[The school needs a bigger budget.|Page 306][$budget to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $transp>>\ They're not usually more than what they appear. That's not to say everyone is like that. But that normal people have no need or reason to be more than they are. You wonder this about yourself. Are you just skin-deep? It's no secret that you're kind of fucked up but does that make for depth in a person? You close your eyes and try to block out the noise of the hall. Which is harder to do when you get shoulder checked. <<elseif $creepy>>\ What you must look like to other people. Always standing around, staring with those dead fish eyes, not talking? What came first, your attitude or your reputation? A reputation in high school is limiting. You become nothing more than your stereotype until you graduate. But really, without it, who would you be? You close your eyes and try to block out the noise of the hall. Which is harder to do when you get shoulder checked. <<elseif $budget>>\ Apart from the numerous abandoned bathrooms, the mystery meat that moves off your plate only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the smell of decay in classrooms exclusively on the second floor, you also have the lack of available lockers. More and more people are sharing. It's fortunate no one has been forced to share with you, you're guessing people have begged not to be. You like your space anyway. Being terrifying has its advantages, does it not? If that's an award you'd win it. //$name Crown, Terrifying.// Ok... but what else? You close your eyes and try to block out the noise of the hall. Which is harder to do when you get shoulder checked. <</if>> “Get the fuck out of my way, freak.” James Hewitt throws a look of contempt your way as he walks down the hall with his buddies. With everything going on you had almost forgotten about him, obviously he still holds some animosity. He's even put pins on your seat for History class. From the whispers you've heard in class, James blames you for the polaroid of his junk. Which makes no sense since you're noticed everywhere you go so someone would've seen you but no one will believe that. You bite your tongue and think about kicking him to stop yourself from going after him and inevitably losing. You're so distracted by your thoughts on revenge that you don't notice Nia walk past you until she's ahead. All you can see is her hair raised up in a hair clip among the shoulders and heads of other students. “Nia!“ you try to yell over the noise. You try to push through the bodies but no one budges, some even elbow you back. “Nia!“ you try once more, you see the back of her head walk through the double doors and disappear as she walks down the steps. Your hands ball in annoyance and you go back to your locker. Imre stands by it, your $holder dangling from his hand. You stop in front of him and he hands you your things. The students part like the Red Sea with him there. No one grazes him, no one dares shove him aside. He gets smiles and he returns them. <<if $nickname>>“$nickname, thanks for waiting,” he says pleasantly. Your nickname feels strange rolling off his tongue. You hardly noticed when he started using it.<<elseif not $nickname>>“$name, thanks for waiting,” he says pleasantly. Your name feels strange rolling off his tongue. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 307]] </h3>

<h3>“Did you talk to Nia?” His smile slightly lessens, “you see—“ “Imre, my man!“ A guy throws finger guns at Imre as he passes you two. He sees you and gives you an awkward look. “Damian, saw that pass you made in football practice today, congrats,” Imre replies with a friendly voice. Imre's eyes flicker back to you and he says, “I haven't been able to catch her alone. She's either with her friends or she avoids the places she's usually at.” You rub your chin and think before suggesting, “we're going to have to corner her at her house then.” “Go to your—“ “Heyyyy, Imre,” a redheaded cheerleader waves flirtatiously at him. She notices you there and grimaces. Imre gives her a charming smile and winks, “I'll see you later, Ceci.” <<if $callfriendlyimre >>\ You feel your mood going down. //What did you expect? He's like this with everyone, you're not special.// He looks after her for a brief moment and then returns his attention to you. “Are you alright, $name?” he asks, looking down at you with concern. You swallow and try your best to offer a convincing smile, “yep. Perfectly ok.” He eyes you, the look of concern morphing into a smirk that's an odd with the fondness in his eyes. <<elseif $calltantagimre >>\ You feel your face heat. //Did you really think you weren't another of the flock? You're as stupid as the rest of them.// “Shut up,” you say under your breath. “Did you say something?” Imre inquires. His eyes finally leaving the redhead. You quirk your eyebrow and ask, “are you here to tell me something or flirt with all that moves in a miniskirt?” Imre's eyebrows pinch together and a flash of irritation passes his eyes before they slightly widen and he leans his head back, taking a really good look at you. His lips tremble for a moment, giving him the appearance of wanting to laugh but instead he responds, “you're right, I'm sorry.” <<elseif $callplatonicimre >>\ You roll your eyes and give him a look of mock disbelief. He looks after her for a few moments and when he looks back and sees you he asks while smiling innocently, “what?” “God was cursing the women of this Earth when he created you,” you respond. Imre laughs and runs a hand through his curls. “I'm just being friendly.” “Sure,” you say unconvinved which makes him grin. <<elseif $callnaurimre >>\ You sigh and wait with boredom while Imre's eyes follow the redhead until she supposedly leaves. “Are you done?” you intone. Imre smiles, “very much so.” <</if>> “As I was saying—” “IMRE!” <hr>\ * [[Drag him out of here.|Page 308][$drag to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 308][$bye to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $drag>>\ “Ok,” you say exasperated and grab Imre by the arm, pulling him along, accompanied by choruses of his name. You push open the doors and step out onto the pavement. Ahead of you one or two students are running on the field. You let go of Imre's arm and turn to face him. “You didn't let me say goodbye to my adoring fans,” Imre says teasingly. You huff, “very funny. We couldn't even hear each other that well in there anyway. So what were we saying... go to Nia's house.” He nods, his expression serious now. “We go tomorrow and make sure you bring that picture we found in the attic.” You assent, “we should tell Lorcan.” “Tell me what?” Lorcan emerges from behind the corner of the exit, a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Tell you that we're going to talk to Nia, all three of us,” Imre answers. Lorcan takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side, “you really think we're gonna get her to agree to tell us anything if we go annoy the shit outta her at her house?” “Do you have a better idea?” you counter. “Nope,” he replies quickly, popping the 'P.' Imre's eyebrow rises, a subtle smile on his lips. “Now that that's clarified, I also wanted to tell you,” he looks at Lorcan, “to tell both of you that you shouldn't go home everyday after school by yourselves.” Lorcan flicks ash off his cigarette, a perplexed and slightly disgusted expression on his face, “you wanna do the buddy system?” “Precisely.” [[NEXT->Page 309]] <<elseif $bye>>\ You scoff and turn around, intending to leave him to his fans. He reaches out pulls you back to him. “What are you do—“ He pulls you along, easily gliding throughout the halls. People's eyes follow you, ranging from stunned to mildly jealous but Imre pays them no mind. He doesn't let go of you until you're in the library. Then he greets Ms. Frida and turns to you. “We can talk better here,” he explains. Rubbing the spot where he grasped you, you reply, “you said we should go to Nia's house.” He nods, his expression serious now. “We go tomorrow and make sure you bring that picture we found in the attic.” You assent, “we should tell Lorcan.” “If you can reach him,” he says snidely. Pausing, he looks to the gray skies. “Speaking of constant communication, I've been thinking that it would smart for you and him to not go off home alone after school.” You give him a questioning look, “you want me and him to walk home together?” “No, I want you to find someone to take you home every day.” “And him I guess,” he says like an afterthought. [[NEXT->Page 309]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $drag>>\ “What for?” Lorcan questions. “The woods aren't safe, you and I live further from the school than he does and someone might've caught whiff of what we're doing,” you answer. Imre nods, “exactly. I'm not saying you two have to walk home together but you should endeavour to walk home with another person.” The clouds are darkening. Lorcan looks from Imre to you and merely shrugs. “Yea, fine, whatever.” “Glad we got your approval,” Imre snarks. Turning to you, he says, “since no one but you seems capable of answering your telephone it's safe to say you have no one to take you home but us.” You tilt your head a bit, “I could... no I couldn't... you're right.” Imre closes his eyes for a moment as if saying 'as always.' “Either I can drive you home, or you can walk with Lorcan and have the driver take him home,” Imre suggests. “Why can't you take me home?” “Because I think the exercise will do you good,” Imre quickly answers, patting him on the arm. Lorcan glowers. <hr>\ * [[Imre.|Page 310][$walki to true]] * [[Lorcan.|Page 310][$walkl to true]] <<elseif $bye>>\ He's right. The woods aren't safe, you live far from the school and someone could've already found out you guys are sticking your noses into this. “I could call to have Arthur pick me up every day,” you state. “Does anyone but you ever answer the telephone at the manor?” he counters. You shake your head. “Either I can drive you home, or you can walk with Lorcan and have the driver take him home,” Imre suggests. “Lorcan isn't even here,” you say. “Yes, so if you do want to walk with him you better run to catch him,” he replies. Ms. Frida passes you by pushing along a cart of books. “Why can't you take both of us home?” Imre looks at his watch. “Because I don't like him,” he says simply. Droplets of rain begin running down from the top of the windows. <hr>\ * [[Imre.|Page 310][$walki2 to true]] * [[Lorcan.|Page 310][$walkl2 to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $walki>>\ “I don't want to get wet, I think it's going to rain,” you say to Imre. “And so you're gonna let my ass get wet?” Lorcan complains.<<set $homei to true>> Imre smiles at him, saying, “at least you'll get a free bath.” Lorcan throws his cigarette near Imre's foot, who puts it out. “Come, the car's just here,” he says and you hoist your $holder up and follow. “If I get sick I'm coughing on you both!“ Lorcan warns as you run to keep up. Imre always parks his car in the same place, behind the bleachers where the buses usually park. You've never ridden in one. Your father would hear nothing of his children ever taking the bus, and even then the drivers refuse to go as far as the manor. Imre unlocks the car just as the first raindrop hits your cheek. [[NEXT->Page 311]] <<elseif $walkl>>\ “We should head out, I think rain's coming,” you say to Lorcan.<<set $homel to true>> His eyes widen as you speak to him, Imre throws you a similar look. Feeling too observed under the identical stares you ask sheepishly, “what?” “You,” Lorcan points to you, “want to willingly walk home with me?” he points to himself “Yes...?” Lorcan drops his hand and throws his cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with his shoe. “You'll be caught in the rain if you go with him, you do know that?” Imre emphasizes. You nod. “I'm not the wicked witch of the west.” Imre looks even more confused but he just fishes his keys out of his trousers and says, “I'll see you two tomorrow then.” You both stay there and watch him retreat to where he habitually parks his car. Lorcan sticks his hands under his armpits and begins walking away. You guess that's your cue. [[NEXT->Page 311]] <<elseif $walki2>>\ “I don't want to get wet, I think it's going to rain,” you reply.<<set $homei to true>> Imre grins and says, “come, my car's parked behind the bleachers.” “If Lorcan makes it home in one piece I'll call his house and update him,” Imre announces as he opens the library door for you. He opens all the doors for you as exit the school. Behind the bleachers, is not only where Imre keeps his car but where the buses park. You've never ridden in one. Your father would hear nothing of his children ever taking the bus, and even then the drivers refuse to go as far as the manor. Imre unlocks the car just as the first raindrop hits your cheek. [[NEXT->Page 311]] <<elseif $walkl2>>\ You check your watch, “if I want to catch up to Lorcan I have to go now.” Imre's smile loses some lustre and he asks, “you actually want to walk home with him? With Lorcan? Do you not see the skies? It's going to rain.” You shrug, “I'm not made of sugar.”<<set $homel to true>> Imre looks entirely confused but shrugs a shoulder, “do as you will. But you better run.” You say a quick goodbye and open the door. Running down the halls that are now mostly empty, you push open the double doors of the front of the school, and almost run into the blond. “Jesus fuck,” he says, putting a hand out to prevent you from colliding into him. He holds an almost consumed cigarette in his hands. His jacket is flecked with small rain droplets. You take the cigarette out of his hand and stomp on it. “Hey! I was smoking that!“ he protests. “Tomorrow we're going to Nia's house and Imre thinks you and I should walk home every day,” you interject. He scoffs, “is that an order? He knows we hate each other, he really wants us to be alone?” You nod, “power in numbers and all that.” Lorcan just looks at you, a blank expression on his face before shoving his hands in his armpits. “Let's fucking go, then.” [[NEXT->Page 311]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<audio "rock" loop play>>\ <<if $homei>>\ The rain hits hard against the clear windows. It sounds like little flicks against the glass. All the world outside has this distorted quality to it, you see splashes of color here and there from those unfortunate to be caught out in the rain. Rain in Croun is always cold, you were surprised by how much warmer the rain was when there would be a storm at the hospital. <<audio "rainycar" loop play>> There have been bodies of homeless people found who simply caught hypothermia and died, as when it rains like this it usually lasts non-stop for weeks. The worst year was in 1991 when it rained for the whole year with added winds that were so strong people were blown away and never seen again. When it rains and you're in a car it has the effect of feeling as if the world is only as big as the car. It feels isolated, compact and humid. Imre has the heater at full blast, and you warm your fingers by the vents. You tend to run cold most of the time. Since driving conditions are shit in this climate, everyone drives slower and the stoplights seem to take ages to change so right now you're waiting at the intersection, many cars ahead of you. Imre couldn't find good reception to his usual classic radio station so now you're listening to top 40 hits. Collective Soul's //Shine// is the soundtrack to the torment of heaven currently raining down on you. Imre taps his fingers impatiently on the wheel. There are moments where his hand hovers over the center of the wheel but he doesn't beep the horn. Running his hand through his hair he feels your eyes on him and slowly looks at you. Mainly your clothes, and given that his expression betrays nothing, you don't know if he's judging your style. Today you opted to wear <<cycle '$clothes' autoselect>><<option 'a skirt.'>><<option 'shorts.'>><<option 'jeans.'>><</cycle>> Not wanting to be scrutinized you... <hr>\ * [[♥️ Ask if he likes your clothes.|Page 312][$niceC to true]] * [[♡ Ask if he has a staring problem.|Page 312][$bitchC to true]] * [[⟡ Ask if he's about to give you fashion tips.|Page 312][$clothesC to true]] * [[Ask him to stop staring.|Page 312][$naurC to true]] <<elseif $homel>>\ No matter how hard you hug yourself or pull your jacket tighter against your body you still shiver against the relentless onslaught of the rain. All the world outside has this distorted quality to it, you see splashes of color here and there from those unfortunate to be caught out in the rain like you. Rain in Croun is always cold, you were surprised by how much warmer the rain was when there would be a storm at the hospital. <<audio "rainywalk" loop play>> There have been bodies of homeless people found who simply caught hypothermia and died, as when it rains like this it usually lasts non-stop for weeks. The worse year was in 1991 when it rained for the whole year with added winds that were so strong people were blown away and never seen again. You wipe rain from your eyes, which only makes more drip down your forehead. Your fingers are stiff from the cold and it takes everything out of you for your teeth not to chatter. You're the type of person who runs rather cold by nature so it's suffice to say that you'll need an extremely hot bath. Lorcan is not doing much better. His nose is red from the cold, pale strands of hair cling to his face and his chin trembles. Occasionally he swears under his breath. He looks kind of like a wet cat, which is a thought better kept to yourself unless you want to be pushed into a puddle. A car speeds past and it throws a splash of dirty water on you two. Lorcan lets his hands fall from his armpits and screams, “motherfucker!“ He stops in front of you and yells out, “you think you're so badass? Come out here and and prove it I'll kick your ass!“ <hr>\ * [[♥️ You smile at his outburst.|Page 312*][$niceO to true]] * [[♡ You flick water at him.|Page 312*][$bitchO to true]] * [[⟡ You wait for him.|Page 312*][$rainO to true]] * [[You continue walking.|Page 312*][$naurO to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $homei and $niceC>>\ “How do I look? Am I giving lunatic chic?” you joke. <<if $clothes == 'jeans.'>>\ He grins. “Something like that.” His eyes remain on your legs. He seems lost in thought, then abruptly professes, your legs are lovely, if you weren't aware. They're covered up but the shape is nice.” <<else>>\ He grins. “Something like that.” His eyes remain on your legs. He seems lost in thought, then abruptly professes, your legs are lovely, if you weren't aware.” <</if>>\ Your eyes widen and you sputter, “what?” <<set $ImreRF += 1>> The lights turn green. Imre focuses on the road. You can't wipe away your shocked expression. “Do you remember the day we met?” Your mouth opens, unsure what to say. He glances at you. “What?” “The day we met. Do you recall?” You lick your lips. “Uh yeah... it was first day of kindergarten.” Imre smiles wistfully. “I saw you and I just...” “You just what?” you ask. “I thought you were the most hypnotic person I had ever seen in my life, and that was before I even knew what hypnotic meant.” Imre Duran, ''the'' Imre Duran, thinks you're hypnotic? You look away toward the rain. His gaze stays on you, making goosebumps rise. Do your eyes cause his body to shiver? [[NEXT->Page 313]] <<elseif $homei and $bitchC>>\ “Do you have a staring problem? Do I have a monkey on my face?” you sneer. His smile sharpens. “Yes to the first one, sometimes for the second one.” You slap his arm. “You're such an asshole.” He crinkles his eyes in laughter. You admit, quietly, that he looks cute. <<if $clothes == 'jeans.'>>\ “Back to the first question: I tend to stare more when you're around,” he says, eyes trailing to your legs, your body, specifically your legs, are very distracting. Even if they are covered up.” <<else>>\ “Back to the first question: I tend to stare more when you're around,” he says, eyes trailing to your legs, your body, specifically your legs, are very distracting.” <</if>>\ He's crazy. Definitely. The light turns green and the car moves. You remain stunned. “Do you remember the day we met?” <<set $ImreRA += 1>> Your mouth opens in confusion. “I... I guess. Kindergarten.” Imre grins. You can’t stop giving him weird looks. “Even at five years old I knew you were the most enthralling person I had ever met and would ever meet.” You mask your face, raise an eyebrow. “Fishing for a compliment? You were just one of many to me.” He slams his hand on the wheel. “Do you always have to be so goddamn difficult?!” [[NEXT->Page 313*]] <<elseif $homei and $clothesC>>\ “Are you about to stop at a clothing store and have me try on pieces like a movie montage?” Imre laughs. “I was the best dressed lunatic in my hospital. I'd have won that award.” You gape. “Runner up for 'Funniest Patient' too?” He jokes back. “I once saw a kid propose at school after five public rejections.” “Hard to beat,” you sigh. “I guess I need to fall in love to be crazier.” “I wouldn’t want that,” he says. “Why?” “Everyone who dates forgets their friends. I like hogging your time.” You both smile. “Noted,” you reply. “We'll be spinsters together,” he says. “Or married at 35 if we're still single?” “Like roommates. Prenup?” “Nobody thinks they’ll divorce, but I want a little somethin'.” You keep joking about your imaginary marriage. [[NEXT->Page 313**]] <<elseif $homei and $naurC>>\ “I don't like being stared at, ok? Could you stop?” He lifts his eyes. “I was trying to start a conversation. But it seems you don't want that.” “I just want to go home,” you say. “I didn't choose this.” “Clearly.” You look out the window, hoping he stops trying to know you. You're still trying to figure yourself out. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You've realized you have no idea who you are. Your parents and brother didn’t give you the chance. But lately, you've started to find yourself and you won't let that go. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation = 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation = 'daughter'>><</nobr>> [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You've realized you're a girl. Always have been. A penis doesn’t make a man. You hid it to please others. No more. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> Will you have a name change? <hr> * <<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME7]] * [[No need.|T-NAUR5]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You've realized you have no idea who you are. Your parents and brother didn’t give you the chance. But lately, you've started to find yourself and you won't let that go. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You're a boy. Always have been. A vagina doesn’t make a woman. You hid it to please others. No more. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> Will you have a name change? <hr> * <<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME7]] * [[No need.|T-NAUR5]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You're not a girl or a boy. You're just you. A vagina doesn't say who you are. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Will you have a name change? <hr> * <<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME7]] * [[No need.|T-NAUR5]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You're not a girl or a boy. You're just you. A penis doesn't say who you are. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Will you have a name change? <hr> * <<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME7]] * [[No need.|T-NAUR5]] <</if>> <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $homei>>\ The car still slowly wheels along the slippery streets, cars honk behind Imre as if by honking faster the traffic will evaporate along with the rain. “A lot has happened since then, our lives have taken vastly different courses,” Imre recounts with a voice that sounds almost sleepy. Where is he going with this? “Yeah, out of the two of us, you've been luckier,” you reply in a whisper. He looks at you from out of the corner of his eye, “is that what you see when you look at me?” Your chest feels constricted, the air unable to reach your lungs. He hardly blinks. You have the urge to look away, to collect your thoughts, you feel to hot right now. The humidity in the car doesn't help and the back of your neck is moist. You don't want to answer him. You don't want him to know about these feelings that are alien to you, that due to their newness make you feel like you're falling from a cliff. You're not sure he's the type to be there to catch you. Your own doubts, your own avoidance of such things freezes the words in your mouth. //Don't you see Imre? Isn't it so obvious?// “Right now, what do you see when you look at me?” you ask, voice barely audible over the pounding of the rain. His face is unreadable, unnerving in its stillness. His eyes seem to penetrate into you. It seems like an eternity before he speaks again. “I see someone who doesn't know who they are.” The thick tension in the car freezes your expression as well, a look of trepidation and maybe even fear. <hr>\ * [[You do know who you are.|Page 314][$Ido to true]] * [[He's right.|Page 314-I][$Idont to true]] <<elseif $homel>>\ “Hey,” you say to steady him. He looks down at where you're touching each other. His nose is red, rain drips down his face from his hair and even though you know you shouldn't think things like this about him, but he looks beautiful. “Look at me,” you command him. He slowly drags his eyes up your chest, to your wet and shivering lips to your earnest eyes. His arms shake under youe fingers and you're not sure if it's the cold. “I don't make fun of you—“ the words leave your lips and you know that's a lie, Lorcan's grimace tells you he knows it too. “Ok, I //do//. But not because I think you're an idiot or because I believe Imre is better than you. It's just...,” you sigh and close your eyes. Lorcan's hands squeeze your arms and you reply without looking, “this is what we do.” He doesn't answer. He doesn't push you off of him either. You feel the rain on your eyelids and slowly open them. He's staring at you. His gray eyes have a look of fear in them. “This is what we do,” he echoes softly. His eyes look down and he lightly shakes his head. He seems confused, and scared. This is the moment you become acutely ware of the position you're both in. A deep icy stab of nerves hits your chest. Oh god, what are you doing? This is Orla's boyfriend. The Orla who hated you, the Orla he loved above all else. “This isn't like what it felt like with...,” he trails off. His mouth falls open as he then too sees how he's holding you. Taking his hands off of you as if you were contaminated he stumbles back, almost slipping in the mud. Your arms are still outstretched. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. That singular decisive word condemning what you've been unknowingly letting flourish ricochets in your head. Lorcan looks humillated. He blinks rapidly, looking like he wants to cry. Your arms fall. “I don—“ “What a—“ You both speak simoltaneously. Lorcan practically gasps out, “I'm fucking freezing.” “Yeah me too,” you feel like you say from far away. He nods vigorously and turns away. You're made to follow but your legs don't. Your thoughts whirling around your head. Thoughts of you sister, of you, of who you are with Lorcan, of who you two are without her here. When Lorcan sees you haven't moved, his eyebrows rise and he takes a few steps toward you but refuses to get within reaching distance. “Are you... ok?” he looks uncomfortable saying that to you. <hr>\ * [[“Lorcan I don't know who I am.”|Page 314-L][$Lido to true]] * [[“I'm my own person.”|Page 314-L*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $homei>>\ “Who are you calling difficult?” you ask with narrowed eyes. Scowling at you, Imre says coldly, “I try to be kind, to be respectful but talking to you is the most onerous, herculean task I've ever had the displeasure of doing.” You scoff, “displeasure? Well for someone who's oh-so-suffering, why do you take every chance you get to be near me?” “Don't flatter yourself,” he retorts. “What I do with you I could easily do with anyone.” For some reason that insinuation makes you so angry you want to hit him. Mockingly you mimic him, //“oh $name, let me push you against a wall, oh $name let me try to obviously make to kiss you but pretend I'm not. Oh $name let me make up a new excuse to be at your house// ALL THE TIME.” Imre's eyes spark with ire, “your mimicking skills are abhorrent.” “You know what's abhorrent? The way you think you can play me like you play everyone else! Don't you fucking see? I'm not like your groupies! I'm not your fan! You can't make me drool by throwing one of your obviously rehearsed lines! I don't want you that way!“ you lash out. Imre laughs with the habitual malice of his. Slowing the car down he bickers, “you say you despise me because of my lies? You're not so far behind. You lie about everything. But your greatest lie pertains to me because you act as if I so disgust but when we're alone you aggresively flirt with me every chance you get.” “I do not-“ “You lie to your brother about who you are and what you're doing,” he condemns. Your hands fall into fists, “you don't know shit.” Cackling he says, “for God's sake, the former might not even be a lie because I can't believe you've ever known yourself.” You unbuckle your seatbelt, pull the handle and jump out of the car, which isn't a hard thing to do since Imre is driving so slowly. “$name!“ he screams your name but you keep walking, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. The rain hitting your face and soaking through your clothes only further ignites your anger. You're twisted back and Imre's blazing eyes glare into yours. You try to pry his hand off your wrist, “LET GO OF ME.” The rain pours down to match your mood. The more you struggle to pull away the harder he squeezes your arm. His curls fall down the sides of his face, his dark blue eyes shine with their fury in between his eyelashes with small droplets sprinkled throughout. Nostrils flaring you explode. “I do know who I am! Do you think only one allowed to be smart around here? You want me to tell you?!“ You don't wait for him to reply before barging on, spitting out words faster than your mind can catch up with them, “my parents hate me, my brother sees me like a broken toy no matter what I do, everyone loved my dead fucking sister more than me, my whole fucking life can be charted by doctor's notes, choosing to help you on this suicide mission is the first real choice I've ever made in my whole life and I don't even know if I'm doing it for the right reasons, when people look at me they either see a monster or a poor excuse of a person who has no right to the surname I have!“ <<nobr>><<if $pronouns is 'she'>><</nobr>> “Nena—“ <<nobr>><<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>><</nobr>> “Nene—“ <<nobr>><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I've spent eighteen years forcing myself to be a girl because that's what my mother allowed me to be! But I know I'm not and I never thought to ever say it! I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I've spent eighteen years forcing myself to be a boy because that's what my mother allowed me to be! But I know I'm not and I never thought to ever say it! I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I've spent eighteen years forcing myself to be a girl because that's what my mother allowed me to be! But I know I'm not and I never thought to ever say it! I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You rant. Your throat sore from the amount of wrathful rambling you're doing, “I've spent eighteen years forcing myself to be a boy because that's what my mother allowed me to be! But I know I'm not and I never thought to ever say it! I don't know anything about the world but I do know that if I disappear tomorrow no one will miss me. And instead of of doing something about that here am I, wet and cold with a boy who makes me more angrier and terrified than anyone or anything I have ever known!“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <</if>> Imre blinks, his mouth slightly ajar, his face inquisitive. It makes you want to shake him. In a hoarse voice you snark, “is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?” You breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling. Imre looks from one of your eyes to the other, the raindrops roll down his cutting features and he looks so pretty it aches. That makes you even more pissed because you probably look like a drowned rat. His eyes slowly drift to your lips, your cold, chapped and wet lips. His mouth opens more, his face leans closer and his eyes move up to yours. <hr>\ * [[Kiss him.|Page 314*][$kissy to true]] * [[Let him kiss you.|Page 314*][$kissyi to true]] <<elseif $homel>>\ Lorcan grunts as you firmly plant yourself ass down on his pelvis and dig your nails into his wrists. Now that you have the upper hand you lean down until your noses are nearly touching, the small follicles on the tips of your noses brush against each other. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book, how typical dear Lorcan,” you purr. He tries to push you off but you dig your knee into his stomach and grin as he whimpers. He mumbles something that you don't hear due to the violence of the rain and the beating of your heart. “What was that? Did you say something or were you crying?” you ask with a sneer. Lorcan grits his teeth responding, “I said that your breath stinks.” You pause and then throw your head back to cackle. “Fuck me you say the stupidest shit, this is why you deserve some good corporal punishment.” You lean back down licking your lips. He just looks so... defenceless like this. //At your mercy//, your stomach twitches at that thought. “I hope that fucking murderer kills you, I hope it chomps down and rips you apart, I hope it fucking hurts, I hope it lasts hours!“ he yells into your face. He struggles to get out from under you but you hold him down with all the strength you have. You snort, “yadda yadda yadda, that's all I hear when you talk. You know for the town bad boy you really are easy to keep down. Or maybe you like it? You'd totally be someone's bitch in prison.” “You let everyone bully you motherfucker, you're already everyone's bitch! You'd last five minutes before getting railed,” he snaps. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young girl like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young boy like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young boy like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure? Fairly new development, like right now new, but I think imma a boy, actually I'm completely sure so they'd put me in a woman's prison where since I'm the closest they have to a man I'd be the hottest commodity.” “You're as fucking annoying as a guy as you were a girl, congrats,” he fumes. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young girl like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure? Fairly new development, like right now new, but I think imma a girl, actually I'm completely sure so they'd put me in a man's prison where since I'm the closest they have to a woman I'd be the hottest commodity.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> “You're as fucking annoying as a girl as you were a guy, congrats,” he fumes. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young person like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure? Fairly new development, like right now new, but I think I'm not a girl or a guy, actually I'm completely sure so they'd put me in a woman's prison where since I'm the the some variety I'd be the hottest commodity.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> “You're as fucking annoying as a not-a-girl as you were a girl, congrats,” he fumes. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You smile, biting your bottom lip. “You'd like to see that wouldn't you? A young person like me getting fucked six ways to Sunday for your sick pleasure? Fairly new development, like right now new, but I think I'm not a guy or a girl, actually I'm completely sure so they'd put me in a man's prison where since I'm the the some variety I'd be the hottest commodity.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> “You're as fucking annoying as a not-a-guy as you were a guy, congrats,” he fumes. <</if>> You lean down and brush the tip of your nose along his, moving it. His breath catches and his mouth opens involuntarily. You feel his breath enter your mouth, you can taste the inside of his mouth. He closes his eyes and you think you won. You beat him at a game that's been going on for— He spits in your face. Jerking back, your hold loosens on his wrists and he slaps your hands away. He sits up and tries to push you off his lap. He looks up at you, the rain pelting his face, the drops from your chin fall onto his mouth. You feel something move against the apex of your legs. <hr>\ * [[Spit in his face.|Page 314*-1][$spit to true]] * [[Let him throw you off.|Page 314*-1-2][$throwl to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $homei>>\ “...we're not getting more than two pets, Imre Duran.” He blows into his coffee. You're parked on the muddy shoulder of the road leading to the manor. The heat is on full blast and after Imre went into a coffee shop on Main Street to get you two something warm to drink you two decided there was no rush to drop you off. Taking a small sip he replies, “since we're not having kids why not fill up the house with noise?” <<if $milkshake >>You actually hadn't ordered something warm. You suck on your straw, the milkshake pleasantly caressing your tastebuds. “And that's why I think we'd divorce because I like the quiet you like to party.”<<elseif $rootbeer >>You actually hadn't ordered something warm, sucking on your straw, the taste of rootbeer on your tongue. “And that's why I think we'd divorce because I like the quiet you like to party.”<<elseif $coke >>You actually hadn't ordered something warm, sucking on your straw, the taste of coke on your tongue. “And that's why I think we'd divorce because I like the quiet you like to party.”<<elseif $sundae >>You actually hadn't ordered something warm. You scoop up another spoonful of ice cream. “And that's why I think we'd divorce because I like the quiet you like to party.”<<elseif $coffee >>The hot coffee burns your tongue but it warms your insides as it goes down your throat. “And that's why I think we'd divorce because I like the quiet you like to party.”<</if>> Imre lifts up a finger, “have you not heard that old adage? Opposites attract.” “Well I am sitting in a car with you voluntarily when a month ago I had never spoken more than three words to you so I guess we can say its about 75% true,” you admit with a small smile. Imre lowers the music, “and what's the extra twenty-five percent?” //Nia.// That's a topic you two haven't really discussed, she was your friend, she's currently his friend although the recent evasion might permanently alter that. You eye him, your face bent over your free treat. <hr>\ * [[“Nia.”|Page 314**][$niai to true]] * [[“Lorcan.”|Page 314**][$lorcani to true]] <<elseif $homel>>\ Lorcan finishes the tale off with the same expression he had on when you began. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “ok, what is it?” “Why didn't the girl use hairspray if she wanted her hair to stay? Is she stupid?” he complains. You sigh, “you had the same issue with the guy licking the other guys fingers.” “BECAUSE IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE! WHY WOULD HE JUST BREAK INTO HIS HOUSE TO KILL HIS DOG AND LICK HIS FINGERS?” Lorcan argues. Another heavy gust of wind hits your face with rain. Lorcan grumbles, looking away from the assault, squeezing his eyes closed. Your arms press against each other. You don't know when it happened but neither of you moved away, better to huddle for warmth. “The whole point...,” you lick your lips, chapped with rainwater, “is that urban legends are supposed to be stupid stories for kids to scare them. They're not meant to be logical.” Lorcan pushes his hair away from his face and then quickly goes back to shoving his hands in his armpits, “well you're right that they're stupid.” You give him a dry laugh, your face too cold to emote properly. “Do you think there's urban legends about this place?” Lorcan asks. You consider it. This town would be prime for it. Of course, the residents aren't that scared of our other non-human neighbors. “It would have to come for outside but like who can find this town anyway?” Lorcan nods. “Y'know? The outsiders are luckier.” You turn to him and he glances at you before explaining, “they don't have to deal with the shit we do. They have like normal problems.” You hum in response. “We have normal issues here too.” Lorcan chuckles which sounds more like a coughing fit, his eyes straining against the elements. “You talking about the assholes? Yeah sons of bitches are everywhere Crowny.” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. You... <hr>\ * [[Try to commeserate with him.|Page 314**][$simp to true]] * [[Change the subject.|Page 314**][$changes to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. You... <hr>\ * [[Try to commeserate with him.|Page 314**][$simp to true]] * [[Change the subject.|Page 314**][$changes to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. And you get an idea. It's split second. It's kind of crazy but Lorcan out of everyone is the least judgmental of people who are different... ok not to you but that's for other reasons circumstances. <hr>\ * [[You tell him you're trans.|Page 314-T][$yept to true]] * [[You keep it to yourself.|Page 314-T*][$nopee to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. And you get an idea. It's split second. It's kind of crazy but Lorcan out of everyone is the least judgmental of people who are different... ok not to you but that's for other reasons circumstances. <hr>\ * [[You tell him you're trans.|Page 314-T][$yept to true]] * [[You keep it to yourself.|Page 314-T*][$nopee to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. And you get an idea. It's split second. It's kind of crazy but Lorcan out of everyone is the least judgmental of people who are different... ok not to you but that's for other reasons circumstances. <hr>\ * [[You tell him you're non-binary.|Page 314-T][$yept to true]] * [[You keep it to yourself.|Page 314-T*][$nopee to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You look at him. Really take him in. He looks miserable in the rain but he's also miserable most of the time, like you. He's the second most bullied person in school after you. And you get an idea. It's split second. It's kind of crazy but Lorcan out of everyone is the least judgmental of people who are different... ok not to you but that's for other reasons circumstances. <hr>\ * [[You tell him your're non-binary.|Page 314-T][$yept to true]] * [[You keep it to yourself.|Page 314-T*][$nopee to true]] <</if>> <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Imre turns onto the path and you make to unbuckle your seatbelt but he keeps driving. “You're going to take me all the way to the front door?” “That is usually the intention behind driving someone home, and this path is far too long for my liking,” he responds.<<set $pathi to true>> <<if $kissy >>You don't fight with him on this. What happened between you two makes you want to get as far away from him as you can. You want to swipe at your lips.<<elseif $kissyi >>You don't fight with him on this. What happened between you two makes you want to get as far away from him as you can. You want to swipe at your lips.<<elseif $handl >>You let go off his hand, he looks down as your hand withdraws to your lap.<<elseif $handnol >>Now that he's dropping you off, maybe you should've have taken the chance and held his hand.<<elseif $niai >>You assent, it's still raining heavily anyway.<<elseif $lorcani >>You assent, it's still raining heavily anyway.<</if>> Imre drives slowly down the path, deep puddles making him jerk to the sides. The mud under the tires makes for a slow journey. You eye the woods, the gaps between the trees showing an inside that is nearly invisible in darkness. Eventually, you see the towering manor in between the much more sparse trees on Imre's side. The car stops when at the front of the house. You're perpendicular to the front doors and to Arthur who's sitting on the front steps, hiding under the cover of the porch. He puts out his cigarette discreetly — or what he deems discreetly — and lifts up his arm to wave at you. He shouts something but you can't hear him through the windows or the rain. Imre rolls down his window and greets the driver, “hello Arthur, it's nice to see you.” [[NEXT->Page 317]] </h3>

<h3>“You're wrong,” you reply. He blinks, then asks in a tone conveying his disbelief, “tell me then, who are you?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I'm the youngest daughter of my parents. My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve your credit and gratitude?” You nod exaggertedly, “OF course. What will I do without you?” “Hopefully you'll never have to know,” he says geniunely. He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I'm the youngest son of my parents. My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve your credit and gratitude?” You nod exaggertedly, “OF course. What will I do without you?” “Hopefully you'll never have to know,” he says geniunely. He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I was made to believe I was the youngest daughter of my parents but no, that's never been true. I'm their youngest son. A development that I don't they would ever approve of or respect.” My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve the credit and gratitude for your transgender discover?” You want to banter with him but a trickle of worry blooms in your throat. “I hope, that's ok with you. That I'm not a girl.” The expression of utter kindness on Imre's face is so foreign as to seem unnatural and it stuns you. The amusement leaves his lips and shifts to a friendliness so open it looks sweet. “I like you much better as a boy.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I was made to believe I was the youngest son of my parents but no, that's never been true. I'm their youngest daughter. A development that I don't they would ever approve of or respect.” My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve the credit and gratitude for your transgender discover?” You want to banter with him but a trickle of worry blooms in your throat. “I hope, that's ok with you. That I'm not a boy.” The expression of utter kindness on Imre's face is so foreign as to seem unnatural and it stuns you. The amusement leaves his lips and shifts to a friendliness so open it looks sweet. “I like you much better as a girl.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I was made to believe I was the youngest daughter of my parents but no, that's never been true. I'm their youngest child. A development that I don't they would ever approve of or respect or even understand.” My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve the credit and gratitude for your transgender discover?” You want to banter with him but a trickle of worry blooms in your throat. “I hope, that's ok with you. That I'm not a girl.” The expression of utter kindness on Imre's face is so foreign as to seem unnatural and it stuns you. The amusement leaves his lips and shifts to a friendliness so open it looks sweet. “I like you like much better as you are now.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You begin to smile. “I'm $name Crown. I was made to believe I was the youngest son of my parents but no, that's never been true. I'm their youngest child. A development that I don't they would ever approve of or respect or even understand.” My family is completely broken. I've been shuttled from doctor appointment to doctor appointment since I could remember. My older brother loves me but can't really see me and I've always accepted that. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Imre starts smiling as you go on. “I'm strange. I'm violent at times. I'm a fuck up too. All my life choices have been made for me. I think my mother has always unfavorably compared to my sister and always found me lacking, I'm bad spare.” “I'm all those things,” you affirm. A laugh escapes your lips, “but I'm more too. And since I started this investigation with you I've been able to finally start seeing myself.” Imre playfully smiles and then mockingly asks, “so what you're saying is that it's all because of me and I deserve the credit and gratitude for your transgender discover?” You want to banter with him but a trickle of worry blooms in your throat. “I hope, that's ok with you. That I'm not a boy.” The expression of utter kindness on Imre's face is so foreign as to seem unnatural and it stuns you. The amusement leaves his lips and shifts to a friendliness so open it looks sweet. “I like you like much better as you are now.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $handl >>\ You gently touch the tips of your fingers with his and then curl them, feeling his knuckles, pressing them lightly. His thumb brushes yours and neither of you say anything. You feel like you're buzzing when you're with him, always at the edge of something. You don't know what this means, it's best to just enjoy this moment. Even if your doubts about certain things speak like a faint echo in the back of your mind. <<if $imreliar >>\ //You know he lies, who's to say this is real? Don't trust him. You push those thoughts from your mind.// <<elseif $imretrust >>\ //No, you said you wanted to trust him. So... trust him... try your hardest.// <<elseif $imreunsure >>\ //You just can't seem to figure out what to make of him. One moment it seems easy to believe him but the next you feel as if you're being enamored.//<</if>> You hold his hand tighter. The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $handnol >>\ You smile and pretend you don't see his hand. You see his face turn towards you from the corner of your eye but you just cheekily look ahead. You hear Imre snort but he says nothing more. You feel like you're buzzing when you're with him, always at the edge of something. You don't know what this means, it's best to just enjoy this moment. Even if your doubts about certain things speak like a faint echo in the back of your mind. <<if $imreliar >>\ //You know he lies, who's to say this is real? Don't trust him. You push those thoughts from your mind.// <<elseif $imretrust >>\ //No, you said you wanted to trust him. So... trust him... try your hardest.// <<elseif $imreunsure >>\ //You just can't seem to figure out what to make of him. One moment it seems easy to believe him but the next you feel as if you're being enamored.//<</if>> The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $closery >>\ You find yourself drifting towards him, your jackets rubbing off against each other. The trembling off his body goes through him to you and there's something so... delicious about feeling his body like that. You'll allow yourself this, this and no more. You're just lonely. And he's there. Imre is a bit too superficial to feel real but Lorcan feels real. Yeah, that's why you gravitate towards him. You just spiralled for a second but you're clearheaded now. He's Lorcan, the boy you'll never be anything more with then allies. The muscles in his thighs move against your thigh. Allies. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> and your nippes are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $closern >>\ You occasionally bump arms but you two quickly move away. The tension between you two is noticeable and makes everything so awkward that every time you cross eyes one of you looks away fast. You're just lonely. And he's there. Imre is a bit too superficial to feel real but Lorcan feels real. Yeah, that's why you gravitate towards him. You just spiralled for a second but you're clearheaded now. He's Lorcan, the boy you'll never be anything more with then allies. The muscles in his thighs move against your thigh. Allies. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> and your nippes are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $handl >>\ You gently touch the tips of your fingers with his and then curl them, feeling his knuckles, pressing them lightly. His thumb brushes yours and neither of you say anything. You feel like you're buzzing when you're with him, always at the edge of something. You don't know what this means, it's best to just enjoy this moment. Even if your doubts about certain things speak like a faint echo in the back of your mind. <<if $imreliar >>\ //You know he lies, who's to say this is real? Don't trust him. You push those thoughts from your mind.// <<elseif $imretrust >>\ //No, you said you wanted to trust him. So... trust him... try your hardest.// <<elseif $imreunsure >>\ //You just can't seem to figure out what to make of him. One moment it seems easy to believe him but the next you feel as if you're being enamored.//<</if>> You hold his hand tighter. Your force your mind to drift to yourself. Now that you've accepted who are you, what about your name? Will you stay with the one you were born with or choose something new for yourself, that represents //your// life? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME]] * [[Your name is fine.|Page 316]] <<elseif $handnol >>\ You smile and pretend you don't see his hand. You see his face turn towards you from the corner of your eye but you just cheekily look ahead. You hear Imre snort but he says nothing more. You feel like you're buzzing when you're with him, always at the edge of something. You don't know what this means, it's best to just enjoy this moment. Even if your doubts about certain things speak like a faint echo in the back of your mind. <<if $imreliar >>\ //You know he lies, who's to say this is real? Don't trust him. You push those thoughts from your mind.// <<elseif $imretrust >>\ //No, you said you wanted to trust him. So... trust him... try your hardest.//<<elseif $imreunsure >>\ //You just can't seem to figure out what to make of him. One moment it seems easy to believe him but the next you feel as if you're being enamored.//<</if>> Your force your mind to drift to yourself. Now that you've accepted who are you, what about your name? Will you stay with the one you were born with or choose something new for yourself, that represents //your// life? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME]] * [[Your name is fine.|Page 316]] <<elseif $closery>>\ You find yourself drifting towards him, your jackets rubbing off against each other. The trembling off his body goes through him to you and there's something so... delicious about feeling his body like that. You'll allow yourself this, this and no more. You're just lonely. And he's there. Imre is a bit too superficial to feel real but Lorcan feels real. Yeah, that's why you gravitate towards him. You just spiralled for a second but you're clearheaded now. He's Lorcan, the boy you'll never be anything more with then allies. The muscles in his thighs move against your thigh. Allies. This is too much, you focus on something else. Now that you've accepted who are you, what about your name? Will you stay with the one you were born with or choose something new for yourself, that represents //your// life? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME1]] * [[Your name is fine.|Page 316*]] <<elseif $closern>>\ You occasionally bump arms but you two quickly move away. The tension between you two is noticeable and makes everything so awkward that every time you cross eyes one of you looks away fast. You're just lonely. And he's there. Imre is a bit too superficial to feel real but Lorcan feels real. Yeah, that's why you gravitate towards him. You just spiralled for a second but you're clearheaded now. He's Lorcan, the boy you'll never be anything more with then allies. Allies. This is too much, you focus on something else. Now that you've accepted who are you, what about your name? Will you stay with the one you were born with or choose something new for yourself, that represents //your// life? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME1]] * [[Your name is fine.|Page 316*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“Call me $tname now,” you tell Imre. He responds by squeezing his hand. Do you want a nickname as well? <hr> * [[Yes.|T-NICK]] * [[No.|Page 316-I-T-C*]] </h3>

<h3>“I think my name is gonna be $tname now,” you inform Lorcan. He looks at you a moment and then looks away, shrugging, “cool.” The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> By the way, do you have a nickname for your new name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NICK*]] * [[No.|Page 316-L-T-C]] </h3>

<h3><<if $kissy >>\ You grab hold of his face and force him forward, smashing your lips together. You're practically attacking him, refusing to move, pressing your lips together so hard your teeth get in the way. It's by no means a romantic kiss. Your noses are squished against each other, you're barely able to breathe, your lips are cold and rain coats fills both of your mouths. Then Imre slightly moves his head and your lips slot into place. He doesn't attempt to move his lips as you've seen other kissers do. Your lips ache from being mashed so hard and painfully against his and he grabs your face too, your cheeks trapped under his hands. It's a kiss meant to hurt. It's a way for you to pour all the need to hit each other into one single act. It's not sweet, it's not for pleasure but grasping to harm each other like this is the most passionate thing you've ever felt. The vice grip Imre has on your head will leave you sore, you dig your nails into his scalp, his soft damp curls envelope your fingers. He grunts when you yank his hair, pulling him down to overwhelm him but as he keeps one hand firmly on your face, the other slides down and grips your throat. He squeezes. You make a nose in your throat, pulling on his hair as hard as you can, enough to rip it out. His strong, thick fingers press into your throat and you start coughing as the air is robbed from your lungs. Your hands are frantically roaming over his face, you want to tear his skin off, open him up and press yourself into him. <<set $kiss5 to true>> You don't know how long you two stay like that. In the cold rain, gripping, groaning and grunting for each other. But it's like a the figurative bucket of cold water falls on your head and your eyes shoot open. //What have you done?// Fluttering eyelids over frightened eyes. You glide your hands down his face and press your palms to his chest. Mustering all your will you shove him away. Or at least you try to. He's much bigger and stronger than you. He's hardly pushed back but he does stop kissing you. Pulling back enough to meet you with eyes set aflame in contrast to the cold. <hr>\ * [[Slap him.|Page 315*][$slapi to true]] * [[Walk back to the car.|Page 315*][$slapino to true]] <<elseif $kissyi >>\ You grip his shirt with both hands and look from his eyes to his soft wet lips. You look deeply into his eyes and he doesn't need more incentive to grab your face roughly and press your cold lips against his. He's practically attempting to squeeze you against him, he overwhelms you, his taste, his skin, his smell, his saliva. It's by no means a romantic kiss. But oh, you could almost moan with how good he does it. He doesn't attempt to move his lips as you've seen other kissers do. Your lips ache from being mashed so hard and painfully against his. <<set $kiss5 to true>> It's a kiss meant to hurt. It's a way for you to pour all the need to hit each other into one single act. It's not sweet, it's not for pleasure but grasping to harm each other like this is the most passionate thing you've ever felt. His shirt is bundled up in your hands, you're grabbing him so hard it feels like you'll rip his shirt off. The vice grip Imre has on your head will leave you sore, you dig your nails into his chest, his soft skin makes you gasp into his mouth, he moans as he takes in your breath. He keeps one hand firmly on your face, the other slides down and grips your throat. He squeezes. You make a nose in your throat, pulling on his skin as hard as you can, enough to leave angry red marks. His strong, thick fingers press into your throat and you start coughing as the air is robbed from your lungs. Your hands to frantically roaming over his collarbone, you want to pull his skin off, open him up and press yourself into him. You don't know how long you two last like that. In the cold rain, gripping, groaning and grunting for each other. But like the figurative bucket of cold water falls on your head and your eyes shoot open. //What have you done?// Fluttering eyelids over frightened eyes. You let go of his skin, pressing your palms against his chest. Mustering all your will you shove him away. Or at least you try to. He's much bigger and stronger than you. He's hardly pushed back but he does stop kissing you. Pulling back enough to meet you with eyes set aflame in contrast to the cold. <hr>\ * [[Slap him.|Page 315*][$slapi to true]] * [[Walk back to the car.|Page 315*][$slapino to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $slapi>>\ You bring your hand up and slap him across the face. The impact stings your hand and you only glimpse Imre lightly touch his cheek with his fingertips before marching past him and going back into the car. You slam the door shut and clench that tingling hand. Imre slowly walks back to the car, his posture unfrazzled, his face composed. He shuts the door, buckles his seat belt and shifts the car to drive. You keep your eyes stubbornly on the window, your hand throbbing and open palm up on your lap. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about getting home. The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about getting home. The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a girl, you always were and now you can finally start living as one. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a boy, you always were and now you can finally start living as one. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a not a girl, all you are is you now you can finally start living as just you with girl or boy. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a not a boy, all you are is you now you can finally start living as just you with boy or girl. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <</if>> <<elseif $slapino>>\ Your fist clenches and Imre notes that, he doesn't move but his face twitches. But you're not going to give him that satisfaction as much as it would feel good to wipe that growing arrogance off his face. Your hand relaxes and instead you opt to shoulder-check him as you walk towards the car. You slam the door shut and stonily stare ahead, your jaw flexing. Imre slowly walks back to the car, his posture unfrazzled, his face composed. He shuts the door, buckles his seat belt and shifts the car to drive. You keep your eyes stubbornly on the road, your eyes refusing to fall into the temptation of looking at him. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about getting home. The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about getting home. The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a girl, you always were and now you can finally start living as one. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a boy, you always were and now you can finally start living as one. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a not a girl, all you are is you now you can finally start living as just you with girl or boy. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You refuse to think of what just happened, not now, later. So as is your habit you force the memory somewhere dark and you instead just think about that insane ramble you you had. You said many things and even though you would've preferred a better place to say it and a better person to say it to, you still had the balls to admit it. You're a not a boy, all you are is you now you can finally start living as just you with boy or girl. Although with that change comes others things such as your name. Will you change it? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME4]] * [[No.|T-NAUR2]] <</if>> <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Yeah, that does feel right. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> By the way, do you have a nickname for your new name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NICK*]] * [[No.|Page 316-L-T-C]] </h3>

<h3>It's a good name, you parents did one thing right with you.<<set $nochange to true>>\ The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] </h3>

<h3>You immediately get that feeling that it's right for you. Do you want a nickname as well? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NICK]] * [[No.|Page 316-I-T-C*]] </h3>

<h3>You like your name, it works with who you are.<<set $nochange to true>> The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niai>>\ You move around your food before answering. “Well a big chunk like that should be reserved for the best friend who left me when I most needed her.” You can feel his eyes on you but you don't want to see his eyes yet. You know how he cares for Nia. “Yes I can see from your point of view how her actions might seem callous,” he says slowly. You snort, “that's a very diplomatic way of saying. Are you trying not to take sides?” He chuckles, “it's none of my business $name. I don't want to come in, and mediate what is clearly a sensitive issue.” You look at him, raising a critical eyebrow, “since when does Imre not want to butt into things like an old chismosa aunt?” He grins, “nice. In most cases I would but this is a bit more difficult so I leave it to the discretion of you both.” You suddenly feel the need to say something to him. Tell him something, a strange feeling from you and dangerous given who you're talking to but you feel good, elated. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Thanks for hanging out with me.” He smiles affectionately, a touch of confusion to his eyes. “I'm not doing charity work, I enjoy it myself.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> “I get that but,” you shrug, “I just wanted to tell you.” The conversation moves on to others things, and after an hour or so Imre turns on the car and drives you home. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Thanks for hanging out with me.” He smiles affectionately, a touch of confusion to his eyes. “I'm not doing charity work, I enjoy it myself.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> “I get that but,” you shrug, “I just wanted to tell you.” The conversation moves on to others things, and after an hour or so Imre turns on the car and drives you home. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “I think I'm a boy.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “I think I'm a girl.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “I think I'm don't want to be seen as a girl anymore.” He doesn't respond, so you continue, “not a boy either, I just... I guess I want to be me.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “I think I'm don't want to be seen as a boy anymore.” He doesn't respond, so you continue, “not a girl either, I just... I guess I want to be me.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<<nobr>><set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <</if>> <<elseif $lorcani>>\ You shrug, “Lorcan hates my guts.” Imre takes a silent sip of his coffee, looking over the rim at the rain-splattered windshield. “Lorcan hates everyone, I wouldn't take it personally,” he advises. You lean back in your seat and look at him from the corner of your eye, “c'mon, we both know that his hate towards me is //very// personal.” Imre returns your gaze, “while that might be true, it frankly doesn't matter what he thinks. He's a nothing person.” You're taken aback by the derision in his voice. Imre rarely speaks about someone the way he speaks about Lorcan. “It sounds like the hate you have for him is personal,” you venture. Imre shakes his head, “it's not hatred, it's just that I have trouble not finding everything he does irritating. Although things have gotten better lately between all three of us.” You consider that, he is right. There hasn't been that much infighting. You suddenly feel the need to say something to him. Tell him something, a strange feeling from you and dangerous given who you're talking to but you feel good, elated. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Thanks for hanging out with me.” He smiles affectionately, a touch of confusion to his eyes. “I'm not doing charity work, I enjoy it myself.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> “I get that but,” you shrug, “I just wanted to tell you.” The conversation moves on to others things, and after an hour or so Imre turns on the car and drives you home. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Thanks for hanging out with me.” He smiles affectionately, a touch of confusion to his eyes. “I'm not doing charity work, I enjoy it myself.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> “I get that but,” you shrug, “I just wanted to tell you.” The conversation moves on to others things, and after an hour or so Imre turns on the car and drives you home. [[NEXT->Page 316]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “I think I'm a boy.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “I think I'm a girl.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “I think I'm don't want to be seen as a girl anymore.” He doesn't respond, so you continue, “not a boy either, I just... I guess I want to be me.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “I think I'm don't want to be seen as a boy anymore.” He doesn't respond, so you continue, “not a girl either, I just... I guess I want to be me.” He gazes at you, not visibly reacting to what you thought would be shocking news. “Is that so?” he asks in a emotionless tone. “Yeah,” you confirm, a feeling of relief spreads throughout your head to the rest of your body. He looks towards the rain and inquires, “are you going to change your name?” <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> You hadn't thought of that but it would make sense of those like you who either have a name too gendered to the gender they aren't or to start a new life. <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME5]] * [[“No.”|T-NAUR3]] <</if>> <<elseif $simp>>\ “We really have been this town's punching bag, huh?” He shivers before responding, “we could go beat everyone up or like blow up the school.” You laugh, “you really do love violence.” “It's the only shit that ever works anyway,” he shrugs. You think about all the times people have been violent to you and you have been violent to others. It didn't really change anything, made things worse for you nine times out of ten. “We would have to skip town, which given that the both of us don't have a ten dollars between us would leave us begging on the streets,” you joke. Lorcan's teeth chatter, “we don't even have a damn car, or else we wouldn't be walking in this shit weather.” You stare at him and he gives you a side glance before looking ahead. You observe his face, not exactly sure of what you're seeing. After a solid minute he snaps, “what the fuck are you looking at?” You smile, “from what I remember, every moment with me is agony to you so it would be torture to run away with me after our mass murder.” He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I'm too cold for this shit.” You look away, smiling to yourself. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> and your nippes are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $changes>>\ “Ok I told my scary stories now it's your turn,” you state. Lorcan throws you a look of disgust, “I hate that crap.” You grin, shaking your head in disbelief, “you go around getting into fights all the time but your scared of scary movies and scary stories.” Lorcan looks at you like you're an idiot, “that's not the same Crowny. It's like saying getting a shot is the same like getting a tat. I can fight people with my fists but I can't beat the shit outta a ghost or a monster.” “I'm just saying your reputation makes you out to be a big badass future habitual prison habitant,” you claim. Lorcan grimaces and shivers as a new gust of wind pelts raindrops onto his face, “you have a reputation too, are you sayin' that's true?” “According to you it's true,” you remind him. “I'm talking about you, do you think your reputation is true?” he asks. “Depends.” “On what?” “On how my mood is on most days,” you reply. “That's a shit answer,” he snarks. “Eat me.” “I'll get a stomach bug if I do,” he smirks. You punch his arm and he laughs, his teeth showing. You try to keep your face serious and mad but his face makes it hard and you just end up shaking your head goodnaturedly. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> and your nippes are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You don't know what comes over you. This is something you've never even spoken aloud to yourself and you want to tell the guy who wishes your death regularly? They say that saying things to those the furthest away from you is easier than you're closest. <<if $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You blurt out, “I'M A GUY.” Lorcan gives you a confused look and says, “where the hell did that come from? You're so fucking weird. Interrupting ass.” You blink several times. “Did you... did you hear what I said?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duh. I ain't blind. What do you want me to do about that?” “So you're fine with it?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> Lorcan sighs, “Crowny, I don't a fuck. Be a guy for all I care. You know what I care about? Getting side I'm going to catch tuberculosis out here.” You look away, your mouth ajar. You expected a bigger reaction. When you take a glance at Lorcan he's just shivering. Do you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You blurt out, “I'M A GIRL.” Lorcan gives you a confused look and says, “where the hell did that come from? You're so fucking weird. Interrupting ass.” You blink several times. “Did you... did you hear what I said?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duh. I ain't blind. What do you want me to do about that?” “So you're fine with it?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> Lorcan sighs, “Crowny, I don't a fuck. Be a girl for all I care. You know what I care about? Getting side I'm going to catch tuberculosis out here.” You look away, your mouth ajar. You expected a bigger reaction. When you take a glance at Lorcan he's just shivering. Do you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You blurt out, “I'M A NOT A GIRL.” Lorcan gives you a confused look and says, “where the hell did that come from? You're so fucking weird. Interrupting ass.” You blink several times. “Did you... did you hear what I said?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duh. I ain't blind. What do you want me to do about that?” “So you're fine with it?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Lorcan sighs, “Crowny, I don't a fuck. Be not a girl for all I care. You know what I care about? Getting side I'm going to catch tuberculosis out here.” You look away, your mouth ajar. You expected a bigger reaction. When you take a glance at Lorcan he's just shivering. Do you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You blurt out, “I'M A NOT A BOY.” Lorcan gives you a confused look and says, “where the hell did that come from? You're so fucking weird. Interrupting ass.” You blink several times. “Did you... did you hear what I said?” Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duh. I ain't blind. What do you want me to do about that?” “So you're fine with it?” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Lorcan sighs, “Crowny, I don't a fuck. Be not a boy for all I care. You know what I care about? Getting side I'm going to catch tuberculosis out here.” You look away, your mouth ajar. You expected a bigger reaction. When you take a glance at Lorcan he's just shivering. Do you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“Yeah I am. I want you to call me $tname now.” Imre nods, a friendly smile on his face. “It's much better suiting than the other one.” You smile wide, “thank you.” Do you want a nickname as well? <hr> * [[Yes.|T-NICK]] * [[No.|Page 316-I-T-C*]] </h3>

<h3>You think for a moment and reply, “I like my birth name, it feels fitting.” “Great minds think alike my friend,” Imre assures.<<set $nochange to true>> The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] </h3>

<h3><<if $L>>\ You smile internally. $tname. It's perfect. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif not $L>>\ “Call me $tname, now.” Lorcan waves you off, “yeah yeah ok. As $tname you're still annoying and yap too much.” You nudge him with your arm and the corners of his lips turn up subtly. The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> <</if>> By the way, do you have a nickname for your new name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NICK*]] * [[No.|Page 316-L-T-C]] </h3>

<h3>No need to. Your name has always been the only thing about you that you felt was right.<<set $nochange to true>> The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] </h3>

<h3>$tname. It tastes nice in your mouth. A perfect piece to the puzzle. Do you want a nickname as well? <hr> * [[Yes.|T-NICK]] * [[No.|Page 316-I-T-C*]] </h3>

<h3>There are few things your parents did well with you and that's your name, you look like $name.<<set $nochange to true>> The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. [[NEXT->Page 316]] </h3>

<h3><<if $homel && $niceO>>\ A grin appears on your face as he continues yelling obscenties at the car that is long gone. His mouth in a pout, his hands into fists. He looks adorable. He exhales and jerks his head in your direction, “why are you smiling like that?” Still smiling you ask, “smiling like what?” He gestures to your face, “like that. It's giving me the heebee jeebies.” Your eyebrows pinch together before you laugh, “out of all the words you could've said you chose those? What are you, a time traveller from the 50s?” He rolls his eyes and turns on his heels, “there you go again.” You start walking too. Yelling over the rain you ask, “with what?” He's walking quickly away from you and you have to start lightly jogging to keep up. He says something but it's muted from the rain. You speed up and yell louder, “WHAT?” He turns around without warning and you run into him. He holds out his arms to steady you, his foot slightly sliding in the wet mud. His hands grip your forearms, and although your skin is cold you can feel his hands. Glaring at you he replies, “you're always fucking teasing me.” That answer surprises you. Your smile drops and you attempt to reply but he interrupts, “you make me feel like such a fucking clown, an idiot that says the wrong shit all the time.” “Lorcan—“ “I'm not Imre! I don't know what animals poop or don't poop!“ Your lip quivers and he sighs, and tries to turn away but you grab onto his forearms. [[NEXT->Page 313]] <<elseif $homel && $bitchO>>\ While Lorcan rants non-stop over a car that's long gone you crouch and splash dirty mud water from a deep puddle onto his pants. He doesn't notice because his face is getting red for all the cursing so you aim for his face and succeed. He splutters, spitting out the water from his mouth. You smile wickedly as you stand up and see how he aggressively wipes his mouth and eyes. “Blagh! What the fuck did you do that for?” he rages. “Oh please! You already live in a trailer park, this isn't the grossiest you've been and look genius! It's raining you'll be—“ He tackles you to the ground. Your head smacks against the cold soggy earth, The rain pelts your eyes and you can't see as Lorcan pins your hands down by your sides. “SAY THAT SHIT ABOUT ME AGAIN! I DARE YOU!“ he booms in your ears. You squirm under him, for a skinny boy he's stronger than he looks. You kick uselessly against his legs. Blinking furiously you open your eyes to see his face hovering over yours. Baring your teeth you say, “what are you gonna do? Huh? Pummel my face?” He spits out more dirty water, up close you see the flecks of dirt on his cheeks. “I've wanted to asshole. Sometimes when I'm having a shit day I think about punching that nice looking face of yours until you look not-so-nice anymore.” You try to free your hands but his fingers dig into your wrists. Your stomach is crushed by his, you can feel all the bones in his ribcage and it makes that very stomach of yours shiver. You have to get out from under here. Like a lightbulb an idea comes to you. You say the words without really thinking about what it means, “is this the position you imagine us in when you fuck me in your dreams?” Lorcan is rendered speechless. His mouth presses closed into a tight line and his hands stop squeezing you. Eyes as wide as circles he stammers, “w-why w-would you th-think... w-who t-told y-you t—“ You slap his hands away, hook your legs around his and roll on top. [[NEXT->Page 313*]] <<elseif $homel && $rainO>>\ It's freezing cold. You can't feel your fingers, your jeans are sticking to your skin, you shirt is clinging to your cold stomach. Your body is begging for warmth but you remain where you are, observing Lorcan's angry rant at a car that's long gone. You think you'll have to wait for a thirty seconds but you clearly don't know how long Lorcan can insult nor how creative he gets with it. You swear some of the curses he uses are in different languages. He finally finishes after three solid minutes, his chest huffing in and out. He looks to you, finally remembering you're there although his expression is one of surprise. “What are you doing here?” “What do you mean? I've been walking with you since we left school.... don't tell me you raged so hard you got amnesia,” you say. Lorcan scoffs, “one, I was asking because I thought your ass had left me here and two, how the hell does that work? Getting so pissed you lose your memory? The fuck?” “Can I answer all these great questions while we're on the move?” you ask and then start walking and he does too, both of you side by side. You wipe the rain from your face and answer, “one, I'm not leaving you here alone and two, I'm pretty sure that's like possible.” Lorcan shivers, hugging himself. “One, why do you care if I live or die? And two, that sounds like one of those stories like that one about the person who gets into your car while you're at a gas station and like kills you when you go on the freeway.” You make a noise that sounds almost of pain as the cold becomes even more unbearable as the wind picks up. “One, I know you won't believe me but I don't want you to die, I like having you around to annoy me. Two, you mean an urban legend? Could be. Did you hear about the one where the guy is home alone, his dog dies and the person who breaks into his house, licks his fingers to make him think the dog is still alive?” Lorcan stammers out a laugh between chattering teeth, “I do believe you're that much of a freak, yeah. Two, wait, why the fuck did the other guy lick that guys fingers? Is it a sex thing? Why did the dog die?” Sighing, you begin explaining the story. [[NEXT->Page 313**]] <<elseif $homel && $naurO>>\ Irritated from the rain and from having to walk all the way home with Lorcan, you leave him to his rants. If he gets eaten, that's on him. Your priority at this moment is not catching hypothermia. You take heavy but quick steps and as the rain comes down on you like the wrath of God you're left to your thoughts and for some reason you begin to think of you. Lorcan probably didn't notice you left, you're like a ghost. An apt description. You have much in common with a ghost. Both invisible, only made visible through acts of fear. Both dead. A ghost is actually dead, while your death is metaphorical. Although... can you really be dead if you've never lived? And what is living? Is it interactions with the external world? Relationships with others? Where do you even start? You guess by knowing what you want. But to do that you have to know who you are. Who are you? <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You don't know. You know what others have said about you. But no more of that. You're not going to spend your life being there and letting others fill in the blanks. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You're a girl. That statement comes at full force and you know it to be true. It's always been true. You've heard it in whispers in your head for years but it was never loud enough. It finally is. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You don't know. You know what others have said about you. But no more of that. You're not going to spend your life being there and letting others fill in the blanks. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You're a boy. That statement comes at full force and you know it to be true. It's always been true. You've heard it in whispers in your head for years but it was never loud enough. It finally is. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You're you. You don't know exactly what that means. But you're slowly figuring it out. One thing you have figured out, or more accurately — realized, is that you're not a girl. You're not a boy. You're $name and that's enough. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You're you. You don't know exactly what that means. But you're slowly figuring it out. One thing you have figured out, or more accurately — realized, is that you're not a boy. You're not a girl. You're $name and that's enough. <<nobr>><<set $transtruth to true>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <</if>> The rest of the way home doesn't let up on the rain. You're soaked through, the inside of your $holder is likely the same, your socks squelch in your shoes<<if $MC is 'trans female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard, thank god you're not a girl.<<elseif $MC is 'cis female.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> and your nipples are cold and hard. This day sucks.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I... I have no fucking clue about anything,” you admit, your voice high and annoying and embarrassing you. The discomfort on Lorcan's face grows even deeper. “What does that mean?” You sigh, “that means that if you think you're the clown I promise you that I'm even worse. You wake up every morning at least recognizing and sure of who's in the mirror. I can't.” Lorcan rubs the back of his neck, his eyes evading yours. But you don't care, it's out. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm a girl, great I just get a health dose of sexism thrown at me. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm a boy, great some expectations I'll never live up to. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm not even a fucking girl, I'm a boy and the first person I ever said it to hates me. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special. You're a boy? Who cares! Be a boy.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm not even a fucking boy, I'm a girl and the first person I ever said it to hates me. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special. You're a girl? Who cares! Be a girl.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm not even a fucking girl, I'm just me, nothing else and the first person I ever said it to hates me. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special. You're a not a girl? Who cares! Don't be a girl.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “All I can say about myself are things I didn't even fucking chose! My name? Something parents gave me. My family? I didn't choose it. My gender? I'm not even a fucking boy, I'm just me, nothing else and the first person I ever said it to hates me. Everyone thinks I killed my sister and you probably do to! So that's what I am,” you cackle absurdly, throwing out your arms. Lorcan's eyes snap up and his eyes widen, “Crowny I don't—“ “I'm not her,” you state, “so if that's why you've been sucking it up and hanging around me I'll tell you right—“ He comes up to you and for a split second you think he's going to hit you. You take a step back at the empty look in his eyes but he stops mere inches from you. He looks into your eyes, then examining every inch of your face. He shakes his head slowly, “no... you're not.” Suddenly he flicks you on the forehead. You blink, stunned and see a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Also don't tell me what I think Crowny. You're not cool enough to be a killer.” You rub your forehead and give him the finger. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> He spreads his arms out, “anyway who gives a shit? We're in high school we got until like we're thirty to figure out our shit. You're not special. You're a not a boy? Who cares! Don't be a boy.” You don't know how much his intention is to comfort you but it kind of works. Maybe what you feel is what everyone your age feels. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I'm not what other people have said I am,” you declare. Lorcan's discomfort morphs into confusion, “what are you even saying?” You clear your throat and reply, “I'm saying that whatever I do, it's me that's doing that. Not because I'm acting in accordance to what other people think I am, or because of who I'm related to.” Lorcan looks to the side a for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. He looks back at you and asks, “uhhhh. That means what?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “everyone knows how weak girls are anyway.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “for a boy you kind of hit like a little bitch anyway.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. That those very people were the ones who made think it wasn't right to be a boy when I felt it in my bones. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “if you're a boy now then lift some weights cause you hit like bitch.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. That those very people were the ones who made think it wasn't right to be a girl when I felt it in my bones. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “you being a girl makes sense, no wonder you're punches are weak.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. That those very people were the ones who made think I couldn't be anything but a girl when I felt it in my bones that I'm not one or a boy for that matter, I'm just me. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “you not being a girl anymore doesn't mean you don't fucking hit like one.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You sigh and throw your hands up. “It means that I'm $name, that my last name doesn't say anything about me. That those very people were the ones who made think I couldn't be anything but a boy when I felt it in my bones that I'm not one or a girl for that matter, I'm just me. I don't have to be like any of them, I'm not in their shadow, especially Orla's. And if you think I killed her and that I was threatened by her and that I'm a substitute for her—“ “Woah woah woah,” Lorcan raises his hands. “First of all yeah I know who you are.” You narrow your eyes. He nods, “you're a pain in my ass.” You roll your lips from smiling. He takes a step closer, “and second of all you're not badass enough to kill Orla.” <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> You try to punch him in the arm but he dodges it with a smirk, “it's good you're not a boy anymore cause you hit like a bitch.” The next punch hits in the shoulder but it's one that's more playful than anything. Lorcan swings out his arm theatrically to gesture to you to start walking. And you do, with Lorcan walking beside you. <hr>\ * [[Move closer.|Page 315-T][$closery to true]] * [[Keep your distance.|Page 315-T][$closern to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>The surprise and worry in your face dissipates as you take in his words and realize that he's right. You don't even see it. Not wanting to, perhaps. “Oh shit,” you laugh without mirth, “it's true. I have no idea who I am.” Imre's face shows nothing as you come to this revelation. The voice that comes out of his mouth is at odds with his blase expression, “say something about yourself that you know to be completely true.” You give him a questioning look but he just stares at you, waiting. Your eyes flutter and you try blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “I'm $name Crown and my whole life has been chosen for me by everyone else.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “no one is ever going to decide my fate for me again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “I'm $name Crown and my whole life has been chosen for me by everyone else.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'son'>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “no one is ever going to decide my fate for me again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “My parents called me $name Crown, and even though everyone has told me I'm a girl I know that's not true.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'son'>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'he'>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “I will never let anyone tell what I'm not ever again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexes his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “My parents called me $name Crown, and even though everyone has told me I'm a boy I know that's not true.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'she'>><</nobr>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “I will never let anyone tell what I'm not ever again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexs his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “My parents called me $name Crown, and even though everyone has told me I'm a girl I know that's not true. I'm not a boy either.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “I will never let anyone tell what I'm not ever again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexs his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “My parents called me $name Crown, and even though everyone has told me I'm a boy I know that's not true. I'm not a girl either.” That statement like a weight hangs over your head. You've always known this, but it's the first time you ever said to yourself, ever said it out loud and to someone else. A chasm as such you've never know has swallowed you up whole. <<nobr>><<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $parentrelation to 'child'>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<set $pronouns to 'they'>><</nobr>> Imre looks to the road and asks softly, “and what are you planning to do about that?” You look down, your mouth slighly ajar. Then you say resolutely, with more confidence you've ever known yourself to have, “I will never let anyone tell what I'm not ever again.” At that Imre grins, “good. I think you're starting to know who you are.” He lays his hand palm up in between the seats and flexs his fingers, beckoning you. <hr>\ * [[Take his hand.|Page 315-T][$handl to true]] * [[You teasingly leave him hanging.|Page 315-T][$handnol to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pathi>>\ While still looking at Arthur, Imre asks you, “how long has Arthur worked for your family?” You hesitate before replying, “I think a little over ten years, maybe fifteen.” “Hmm,” he replies, his eyes trained on him. “Why?” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face, “your mother said that Yasmine tried to convince her to leave town with her. That seems to me like a close relationship and based on that I wouldn't be surprised if she frequented your house. Perhaps Arthur can tell us something about her.” “Or maybe he would drive my mother to her house, either way we get something,” you conclude. “Exactly,” he says, rolling up his window and turning off the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and Imre asks, “shall I do the honors or you?” <hr>\ * [[“I'll be lead detective.”|Page 318][$lead1 to true]] * [[“You're better at it.”|Page 318][$lead2 to true]] <<elseif $pathl>>\ You start walking towards him when Lorcan grabs your sleeve. You raise your eyebrows and he swiftly lets go. <<if $S34>>\ “Imre is an idiot and so are you,” he accuses. Your eyebrows lower, “you couldn't stop yourself from making one last insult. Are you like a fairy that lives off bitchery?” He gets annoyed and flicks your nose. “The help is always there and no one sees them cause all you rich assholes think they're second class citizens. I bet if you ask your driver there if he knew Nia's mom he'll say yes.” <<elseif not $S34>>\ “Do you remember what I said to you the first day of school?” he asks. You look down and think. Your memory is hardly first-rate. “Something about how our employees see things,” you recite. He nods and then flicks your nose. “Ow, what was that for?” you rub your nose. He shrugs, “just cause. But yeah if anyone knows anything about Nia's mom, it's that dude.” He jerks his thumb to Arthur. <</if>> It's not a bad idea. Looking at Arthur you ask, “so is it going to—“ “You do it.” “Ugh.” <hr>\ * [[Do it.|Page 318*][$lead3 to true]] * [[Call it off.|Page 318*][$lead4 to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Hugging yourself tightly you begin to speedwalk down the dirt path. “Hey speed racer! Wait,” Lorcan shouts. You look over your shoulder to see him lightly running to catch up to you.<<set $pathl to true>> When he reaches your side he explains, “I need you to get someone to drive me home Crowny.” <<if $spit >>You have a series of insults on your tongue but you don't release them. After your spitting //thing// you don't want to invite any more fights.<<elseif $throwl >>You have a series of insults on your tongue but you don't release them. Your little fight in the mud makes you not want to prolong time with him.<<elseif $closery >>You let your arm brush against his, he either doesn't notice it or doesn't mind.<<elseif $closern >>Even though the rain is horrible, walking with him warms your chest.<<elseif $simp >>Two losers ending the day with a cherry on top.<<elseif $changes >>Two losers ending the day with a cherry on top.<<elseif $naurO >>You don't bother to respond.<</if>> You constantly dodge huge puddles, some so big that you try to jump over them, Lorcan is better at doing that than you. Your socks are submerged in muddy water. Because of this weather the walk takes longer than it should. You can't help but try and see in between the gaps of the trees, into the darkness of the woods. Eventually, you see the towering manor in between the much more sparse trees on Lorcan's side. Finally you step out of the path and onto the elevated front lawn that's mostly dirt and dead grass. Directly in front of you is Arthur, sitting on the front steps under the shelter of the porch. He puts out his cigarette discreetly — or what he deems discreetly — and lifts up his arm to wave at you. He shouts something but you can't hear him through the windows or the rain. Lorcan wipes his hair off his forehead, looking at you. You cup your mouth and respond loudly, “hey Arthur!“ [[NEXT->Page 317]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "rainycar" stop>><<audio "rainywalk" loop play>>\ <<if $lead1 >>\ Imre raises his eyebrow. You ask, “what? I'm really liking this.”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> He raises his hands, “I'm not judging you for it. I'm just surprised.” You shrug and get out of the car. You and Imre have to speed walk towards the porch. Arthur gets up as you both step onto the porch, your hair already damp and your clothes slick. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. <<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Miss from now on, as well as any other female terms. Miss $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mr— Miss Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mister from now on, as well as any other male terms. Mister $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mister Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mx. Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mister Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mist— Mx. Crown.” <</if>> Arthur looks to the skies and says, “it is really pouring. Hasn't been this bad since spring, four years ago.” Imre briefly looks before remarking, “yes, terrible. I do wonder, and I don't mean to cause offence, but if you're here why wouldn't you pick up $name from school?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Miss Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mr. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mx. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<</if>> Imre's eyes hold a hint of irritation and you raise your hand before Arthur can start his profusive whining. “That doesn't matter Arthur. I was actually hoping if I can ask you about someone important,” you wonder. Arthur looks relieved as to deflect the conversation away from his irresponsbility. “Ask away, I'm at your service.” //Note: Question 3 finalizes the questioning.// <hr>\ * [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319][$questionA to true]] * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead2 >>\ Imre looks satisfied as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I'm not one to toot my own horn but I do like Sherlock Holmes,” Imre exults. He definitely does mean to toot his horn, it's evident by the absolute delight in his face as he gets out of the car. You and Imre have to speed walk towards the porch. Arthur gets up as you both step onto the porch, your hair already damp and your clothes slick. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Miss from now on, as well as any other female terms. Miss $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mr— Miss Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mister from now on, as well as any other male terms. Mister $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mister Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mx. Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mister Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $name Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mist— Mx. Crown.” <</if>> Arthur looks to the skies and says, “it is really pouring. Hasn't been this bad since spring, four years ago.” Imre briefly looks before remarking, “yes, terrible. I do wonder, and I don't mean to cause offence, but if you're here why wouldn't you pick up $name from school?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Miss Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mr. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mx. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<</if>> Imre's eyes hold a hint of irritation and you raise your hand before Arthur can start his profusive whining. “That's ok Arthur I got home well enough—“ “We were wondering if we could, or well if I could ask you about someone I feel you know very well,” Imre inquires. Arthur looks slightly unnerved, he takes a moment to respond. His telltale smile wavering. “Of course, Mr. Duran.” <<set $question4 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 319]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $lead3 >>\ “Your lack of people skills is an a hindrance,” you state. Lorcan yawns. “I don't care, and you're only like a tiny bit better than me, Crowny.” You walk to the safety of the porch and Lorcan trudges behind. Arthur stands up and his expression is startled as he looks both of you up and down. You touch your hair, trying to pat it down. Clearing your throat, you say, “Arthur I was wondering if I could ask you something?” Arthur eyes Lorcan who scowls at him making the driver quickly look away and throw you a smile. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Miss Crown now. Just call me by girl pronouns, it's just Miss $name Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Mis—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MISS CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mr. Crown now. Just call me by boy pronouns, it's just Mr. $name Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Miss—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MR. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mx. Crown now. Just call me by neutral pronouns, it's just Mx. $name Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Miss—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MX. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mx. Crown now. Just call me by neutral pronouns, it's just Mx. $name Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Mist—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MX. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> <</if>>\ //Note: Question 3 finalizes the questioning.// <hr>\ * [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319*][$questionA to true]] * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320*][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T*][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ “Fine then we're not fucking do anything Lorcan,” you state angrily. Lorcan wrinkles his nose, as if he smelled something disgusting. “You can't just say a few fucking words to him?” Your eyes widen at the audacity and pressing your finger into his chest you denounce, “you're such a damn hypocrite. I could say the same thing about you, if you wanna do this so badly then you go and talk to him. Lorcan slaps your finger away and with a huff he marches towards Arthur who seeing an angry 19-year old boy charging toward him, stands up with a scared look in his face. You hurry to catch up and reach the cover of the porch as Lorcan does. Arthur looks at both of you, the feelings of confusion and fear written all over his face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “It's actually Miss $name Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “It's actually Mr. $name Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “It's actually Mx. $name Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “It's actually Mx. $name Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <</if>> “It's Arthur, Mr. St—“ “Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan silences him. “I have some shit to ask you.” Arthur looks nervously at you and you just nod. “Y-yes, however I can be at ser—“ “Great.” [[NEXT->Page 319*]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $questionA>>\ “Ok, so do you remember anything about Nia's mother?” Arthur's smile disappears and he seems at a loss for words. He quickly looks to Imre as if what you said is what he heard and Imre looks on devoid of expression. Arthur clears his throat and takes a moment to answer. “W-why—,” he sighs. “Why do you ask?” Schooling your expression into something resembling nonchalance you claim, “Nia and I haven't been friendly lately and I just want to know if maybe her mother's alleged mental issues might explain why she's acting so... weird.” Imre looks over at you, a slight look of surprise in his eyes at how such an easy and quick lie spilled from your lips. Arthur grows uncomfortable but his voice is stronger and clearer, “I didn't want to mention it but I have noticed how Miss Mir has not been coming around the house since your arrival. Only on the night of your homecoming and she didn't look too pleased with you then.” You lament, “yes. It's been hard. And that is why I need to know if it's something like what her mom had. To be able to help her. But for that I need to know more about... what was her name...” you trail off. “Yasmine,” Arthur says immediately. You snap your fingers, “exactly. I knew you would be of help. What was she like?” “I didn't know the Mrs. Mir that well. I only would see her when she came over for tea with your mother.” <hr>\ * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $question4 >>\ “How often did Nia Mir's mother come to this house before she disappeared?” he asks frankly. Arthur is taken aback by Imre's lack of hesitation. “Uh, every once in a while. Mrs. Mir and Mrs. Crown would have tea in the parlor,” he answers. Imre cups his chin, his forefinger curled on it and his thumb holding up his head. “Were you ever privy to what they discussed during the tea parties?” Arthur's eyes harden and he says in offended tone, “I would never listen to a private conversation between Mrs. Crown and her friends.” Imre looks at him unfazed, “I wasn't accusing you of eavesdropping. I merely want to know if you ever caught snippets of words, sentences, what-have-you.” Arthur shakes his head, “nothing at all, Mr. Duran.” “How long were these tea parties? And did they ever change?” Arthur looks to you and you have the look of someone who's interested in his answer. Finding that he has no ally in you he replies, “they were usually an hour or so. They only ever changed...” “Yes?” Imre prods. “They only changed the weeks before Mrs. Mir disappearances,” Arthur replies. [[NEXT->Page 320]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $questionB>>\ You and Imre exchange glances, something Arthur notes. You ask, “before she disappeared was she acting strange? Did she ever say anything to you when you would drive her home?” “I guess she was a little... gone? You could say. She was a very friendly lady for most of the time I drove her. But the last few weeks before she left, she wouldn't take to anyone. Not even me.” You quirk your eyebrow and ask, “'left?' You think she left of her own free will?” Arthur shrugs, “I don't know $prefix Crown. It's what I guess, happened.” “And she never said anything weird?' you ask. He shakes his head. “She just stopped speaking.” <hr>\ <<if $questionA >>* ==Question what he remembers of her.==<<elseif not $questionA>>* [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319][$questionA to true]]<</if>>\ * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $question4 >>\ Imre's eyes alight with a small flame. shoving hands into his pockets he asks, “how long did those final tea parties last?” “Just a few minutes, Mrs. Mir would always leave without a word to anyone, not even me,” he responds. Imre nods and then smiles approvingly, “thank you for your cooperation Arthur. It was very helpful.” Arthur has been with wealthy people long enough to know that this was a swift dismissal. He smiles winsomely at Imre and then you before going into the house. Imre looks after his departing form, a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You move to stand in front of him and ask, “so did you get anything you can sink your teeth into?” <<set $Imrenaur to true>> Imre still remains focused on the door. [[NEXT->Page 321]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $Imreinte >>\ “You know you can be a real ass sometimes,” you say sharply. At that, Imre lightly smiles. Still looking at where Arthur disappeared, he has a pensive look on his face. “Your driver is... very observant,” he states in an emotionless voice. He looks to you then. “Thin walls.” Imre hums but says nothing. His eyes move around your face and it makes you feel exposed, you want to leave his gaze. Your eyes flick away as he makes contact with them and you hear him make a noise that sounds vaguely like a dry chuckle. “Be seeing you tomorrow, $name,” he departs without looking back. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322]] <<elseif $Imrenaur >>\ “I have something but I'm not sure if it's...,” he trails off, his eyes finding yours. “Obviously you're not going to say,” you remark. He smiles, “not yet.” His eyes move around your face and it makes you feel exposed, you want to leave his gaze. Your eyes flick away as he makes contact with them and you hear him make a noise that sounds vaguely like a dry chuckle. “Be seeing you tomorrow, $name,” he departs without looking back. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322]] <<elseif $LorcanD >>\ “Sally already knows that,” you reply. “Probably got his panties in a twist,” he replies snarkly. “He'll be fine.” Lorcan snorts derisively. “You missed a chance at a ride by the way.” He shrugs, “I don't wanna go home in a fancy car anyway. Your driver would piss his pants if he had to go to Camelot.” Then he gives you a quick look and walks away. So much for goodbyes. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322]] <<elseif $Lorcanme >>\ “You know that can mean like two different things?” Lorcan throws you a look of annoyance. “Not everything has to be like... that.” You smirk. Lorcan gives you a quick look and walks away. So much for goodbyes. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“How was her relation—“ “Arthur could you tell me how long Mrs. Mir's meetings were with Mrs. Crown?” Imre interrupts. You stare at him but he looks at Arthur with a friendly smile and Arthur's nervousness evaporates. “They usually lasted for an hour.”<<set $Imreinte to true>> “Usually,” he echoes, “was it ever unusual?” Arthur replies before Imre can finish the stence, “come to think of it the last weeks before Mrs. Mir left she would come to the manor and stay for only a few minutes.” Imre nods and then smiles approvingly, “thank you for your cooperation Arthur. It was very helpful.” Arthur has been with wealthy people long enough to know that this was a swift dismissal. He smiles winsomely at Imre and then you before going into the house. Imre looks after his departing form, a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You move to stand in front of him and ask, “why did you butt in? I was doing fine.” Imre still remains focused on the door. “Imre,” you demand. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“It wasn't anything personal, nena. I just had a pressing question,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“It wasn't anything personal, nene. I just had a pressing question,” he answers.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“It wasn't anything personal, nene. I just had a pressing question,” he answers.<</if>> You cross your arms, “I had an important question too.” Not taking his eyes off the door he says, “oh well.” [[NEXT->Page 321]] </h3>

<h3><<if $questionA >>\ “Ok, so do you remember anything about Nia's mother?” Arthur's smile disappears and he seems at a loss for words. He quickly looks to Lorcan as if what you said is what he heard and Lorcan looks on devoid of expression. Arthur clears his throat and takes a moment to answer. “W-why—,” he sighs. “Why do you ask?” Schooling your expression into something resembling nonchalance you claim, “Nia and I haven't been friendly lately and I just want to know if maybe her mother's alleged mental issues might explain why she's acting so... weird.” Lorcan looks confused, his mood apparent in his gray eyes but he doesn't say anything, electing to stare down at the ground. Arthur grows uncomfortable but his voice is stronger and clearer, “I didn't want to mention it but I have noticed how Miss Mir has not been coming around the house since your arrival. Only on the night of your homecoming and she didn't look too pleased with you then.” You lament, “yes. It's been hard. And that is why I need to know if it's something like what her mom had. To be able to help her. But for that I need to know more about... what was her name...” you trail off. “Yasmine,” Arthur says immediately. You snap your fingers, “exactly. I knew you would be of help. What was she like?” “I didn't know the Mrs. Mir that well. I only would see her when she came over for tea with your mother.” <hr>\ * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320*][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T*][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ Arthur swallows his words, a slight tightening of his lip. “Nia's mom. Did that lady come here a lot?” he asks. “You mean Mrs. Mir?” Arthur asks. Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duhhhhh. Who the fuck else would I be talking about?” Arthur moves back, a look of disapproval on his face. He looks to you with a forced smile smile and says, “$prefix Crown, I don't think this is an appropriate line of questioning. If Mr. Stark wants to know more information he should contact the police or Dr. Mir.” Lorcan steps in front of you, blocking your view of Arthur. You step around and move next to him. Arthur has his back pressed against the column and Lorcan is standing far too close for comfort. His height slightly taller than your driver. With a rebellious clench to his jaw Arthur looks up at the boy. Meanwhile Lorcan has a heated glare in his eyes. “I'm right here. Don't fucking act like I'm not,” he warns. Arthur leans back and says curtly, “that was not my intention Mr. Stark—“ “And stop calling me that. I'm not like them or you since you've forgotten that you're down in the mud with the rest of us,” Lorcan interjects hotly. Practically spitting he adds, “bootlicker!“ Arthur slides out from in between that cramped space. He puts his hat in his hands and looks down apologetically. “I am truly sorry if I offended you, Mr. Stark.” Before Lorcan could start screaming at him Arthur hastily tips his hat to you and runs out into the rain, heading for the car. [[NEXT->Page 320*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $questionB>>\ You ask, “before she disappeared was she acting strange? Did she ever say anything to you when you would drive her home?” “I guess she was a little... gone? You could say. She was a very friendly lady for most of the time I drove her. But the last few weeks before she left, she wouldn't take to anyone. Not even me.” You quirk your eyebrow and ask, “'left?' You think she left of her own free will?” Arthur shrugs, “I don't know $prefix Crown. It's what I guess, happened.” “That's the most boring theory of Mrs. Mir, I like the alien one“ Lorcan chimes in. You look at him and he just looks to you and a confused Arthur. “What? Ya'll don't keep up with the gossip? It's fun when it's freaky.” Turning away from him, you ask, “and she never said anything weird?” He shakes his head. “She just stopped speaking.” <hr>\ <<if $questionA >>* ==Question what he remembers of her.==<<elseif not $questionA>>* [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319*][$questionA to true]]<</if>>\ * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T*][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ Turning back to Lorcan you throw him a grimace along with a disapproving head shake. “What?” he asks clueless, throwing his head back to get his hair off his face. “That was the best you could do? Wow,” you reply sarcastically. Lorcan tsks, “that ass is too loyal and has his head up too far in your parents' crotches to answer shit anyway. That was a dumb idea.” You huff, “you admitting you did something dumb?” Lorcan shoulder checks you and steps out into the rain. He watches as Arthur pulls away and only speaks when the car is covered by the trees lining the path, “he's so gonna tell your brother.” You look to where the car went, “tell him what?”<<set $LorcanD to true>> Lorcan looks over to you, “that you're hangin' out with me.” [[NEXT->Page 321]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“How was her relationship with my mother?” Arthur takes his hat off and looks at it for a moment. Moving it around his hands. Lorcan rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. He looks up, “they were good friends. I don't know much about what their relationship was like the last weeks before Mrs. Mir's vanishing.” Arthur's eyes hold sincerity in them, they're kind eyes and he sounds so truthful. He has no reason to lie to you, whenever you've asked him a question he's never been evasive, he only gets that way when you treat him rudely. “Thanks for the answers, Arthur,” you reply graciously. Looking at Lorcan you suddenly say, “could you drive Lorcan home?” Arthur inclines his head to you and then looks to Lorcan who stands there with his hip jutted to the side. Arthur mumbles a quick, “I'll be in the car,” before putting his hat back on and rushing out into the rain. Lorcan follows Arthur with his eyes as the man gets into the car, turns on the engine and waits. Over the rain you can still hear the sound of music from inside the car. Lorcan turns to you with an annoyed look. “What was that?” You blink. “What was what?” <<set $Lorcanme to true>> Lorcan growls. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket he responds, “you let that idiot off easy.” Your eyebrows furrow, “I didn't do anything. I asked him but I can't press him too much.” You move and look at the wet earth in front of the house, “he tells Sally a lot things. He works for my brother, not really for me. Sally wouldn't like it if he finds out his little $sibrelation is threatening his employees.” Lorcan snorts, “since you're hanging out with me your brother will think I'm fucking you up.” [[NEXT->Page 321]] </h3>

<h3>You stop on the stairs and wait as he reaches you when you see what he's carrying. <<audio "rainywalk" stop>> Since you've spent most of the week rummaging through those boxes. By the way Percy is struggling it seems to be a hefty one. He sighs as he sees you and stops next to you. “Before you put your nose where it doesn't belong, I'll just say that I'm selling this shit.” You look inside the box and see an assortment of trinkets and porcelain figures. Cutlery that's seen better times and glass swans with missing beaks. “Where?” He just shrugs in response. You look up at him, “are you really that in need?” <<if $stomp>>“I have to pay for my medical bills since your sasquatch feet crushed my bones,” he shots back.<<elseif not $stomp>>“If I have to eat macaroni for one more night I will kill all of us,” he grins.<</if>> You shoot him a look. “You never found Father's checkbook.” He huffs as he pulls the box up. “Bastard probably takes it with him every time he leaves.” In that moment you think of asking something you hadn't thought to. “Have you seen him?” [[NEXT->Page 323]] </h3>

<h3>“What, the old man?” You nod. “Nah, asshole leaves at like five in the morning and comes home like at one. Sally says he talks to him,” he replies. He mumbles something underneath his breath you don't catch. “Have him and Mother fought while I was gone?” you ask. “Look this shit is heavy and I'm not playing twenty questions with you Crazypants. You need a fucking hobby when you and those other two aren't making out in the attic,” he snarks. You punch him in the arm. “I have a hobby.” <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>“Yeah you leave your awful flowers all over the house,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>“Yeah it really is so “fun“ to hear your ass through the walls at midnight when you're doing pushups,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>“Yeah and your taste in books is sooooo boring,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>“Yeah you suck at drawing, it's like a blind person with a crayon,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>“Yeah your handwriting looks like ass,” he snorts.<</if>> <<if $PercyBond > 5>>\ Percy looks into his box and takes out a cassette player with black headphones. The wrist of the hand he's using to hold up the box shakes. A relic of Christmas 1981 when Father 'accidentally' grabbed Percy's arm too hard when he wouldn't stop running around the parlor and he had been deep in his cups. He holds it out to you. <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Page 324][$cassy to true]] * [[Don't take it.|Page 324*]] <<else>>\ He pushes past you without another word. You go up to your room. [[NEXT|Page 325]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You take it from him and look down. It's a deep red, banged up a bit but doesn't seem too old. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sister now. I'm $name, your sister.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace sista.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me brother now. I'm $name, your brother.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace brotha.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $name, your sibling. Nothing girly.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-sister.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $name, your sibling. Nothing boyish.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-brother.” <</if>> You open the player and see there's already a cassette inside. Bringing it up to the light of the chandelier it says it's a <<cycle '$cassym' autoselect>><<option 'pop'>><<option 'rock'>><<option 'jazz'>><<option 'new wave'>><<option 'country'>><<option 'folk'>><<option 'disco'>><<option 'heavy metal'>><</cycle>> cassette. //C's winter in isolation.// Could be a coincidence but by the inital it seems to be your aunt's cassette player or at the very least her cassette. You put the cassette back inside the player, put on the headphones and click PLAY. You listen to the tunes as you make your way to your room. [[NEXT->Page 325]] </h3>

<h3>Once there you shut the door behind you, throw your $holder on the floor and collapse onto your bed, face down. You groan into your pillow for a good minute. <<if $cassy>>\ You run your hand through your hair and feel the wet strands. Your clothes feel itchy. Sighing you click off the music, throw the cassette player onto the bed. At least that's what you intend before it bounces off the mattress and lands with a thump on the floor. <<elseif not $cassy>>\ You run your hand through your hair and feel the wet strands. Your clothes feel itchy. Sighing you move your face towards the window and watch the raindrops pelt against the glass. <</if>> You get up with another groan and start stripping off your clothes, letting them fall in a wet slop on the floor. Grabbing a towel, a random robe and throwing clean, dry clothes on the bed you head for bathroom. Your mind filled with things that can hopefully disperse for a few hours with some hot water. [[NEXT->Page 326]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "hopeless" loop play>>\ <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You suck rigorously on the cigarette, your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the nicotine invade your brain in a haze. When your mind feels too loud it's the only thing that quiets it. You leave it in your mouth for a few precious moments before blowing it in small //'O's'// into the rainy night air. You cough lightly, the movement making your head move against the paneling of the window in which you're seated. You didn't know much about smoking when you started but since then you learned about some symptoms and drawbacks of becoming a regular consumer. Apart from the increased cancer there's something called a 'smoker's cough.' Basically? You're kind of always coughing now. It's mildly annoying. Sally has asked if you're sick. Of course another thing is that you find yourself craving more and more cigarettes. In class the feeling is the worst, watching the clock move at a snail's pace on the hope the hour and fifteen will be up before you can race to the back of the school for a quick smoke. You're going through two packs a week. Oh, well. Everybody will die someday. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ You make a pleasant humming sound as the brandy coats your tastebuds. You lick your bitter lips, savouring the smoky flavour. You pour one out for the rainy and stormy night. When you swallow your throat feels raw and it makes the next swing even more delicious. You had seen what drinking had turned your parents into but it's different experiencing it. It always turned father into a much crueler version of himself and well you're mother... But to you, it feels peaceful. A nice loosening of the screws after so much stress and it makes for great sleep. When your mind feels too loud it's the only thing that quiets it. You're not an idiot, you know what addiction is. Are you constantly filling up your flask? Yes. Are you drinking everyday? Yes. Do you feel like you can't finish a day without some brandy? Yes. Did you drink so much and so fast the other night you woke up vomiting onto yourself? Yes. But that's nothing. You'll just pace yourself. Your hands are starting to shake lately. Oh, well. You'll be too drunk to realize how sad you look when you die. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ You move your finger off your knuckle. A piece of skin comes off on the bottom of your thumb, mixed with blood. You look at your shredded knuckles, your face neither angry, nor sad nor anything. You look out at the rainy night. You place your knuckles down on the window frame next your leg and press down on the wood, grunting as your hand aches sharply. Your knuckles don't ever have time to heal before you're ripping them open with your nightly punches to the furniture or walls. You hiss everytime your knuckles break open, the blood flowing onto your arm. Tomorrow your knuckles will be crushed over. Of course Sally has noticed and you do your best to mumble lies. Apparently this is called 'self-harm' in therapy talk. It feels so good, how could it be harm? When your mind feels too loud it's the only thing that quiets it. Hey, maybe you'll become a better fighter like this. Oh, well. A little pain never killed anyone. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>\ The pill bottle already feels too light. You swear you had just gotten it refilled. Your eyes lazily watch the rainfall, your vision hazy and almost slow. They don't even bother to see a prescription at the pharmacy. These moments, high out of your mind, is the only time of the day where you don't have to carry the burden of being you. When your mind feels too loud it's the only thing that quiets it. Makes you feel like you're laying in a bed of feathers. You giggle as you realize how fucked you are. The other night you had run out of pills and it was too late to get a refill so you agonized in bed. You kept fidgeting. Kept throwing your blankets off and on. Kept staring at the clock. Your body alternated between cold and hot. You for a moment, only to to wake up on the floor shivering. You knew you were headed here. You're surprised it took you this long to be a junkie. It never happened at the hospital where they gave you even worst drugs that had you forgetting your name for days. There are thirty pills to a bottle. You finish your bottle in a week and a half. You're not so hungry anymore. Oh, well. There are worse ways to kill yourself. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ You stare out at the rainy night. The unrelenting rain a background buzz. The sound of the water hitting the trees and the earth is like a lullaby. It makes your head feel like it's not attached to your body. You even forget you have one. You're sitting at the window, not entirely worried about the rain wetting your pajama pant. You don't know how long you've been like this and when you check the time you're surprised to see you've spent hours unmoving. You used to be able to sit in the padded room, of the asylum and lose yourself in the walls. Tt didn't seem so bad then. This ability to stare at nothing in complete silence for hours is what saves you from falling into a complete crumpled napkin. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them with your arms, trying to remind yourself of where you are. You could just disappear. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 327]] </h3>

<h3>As your eyes get lost in the fast and brutal rain, with its accompanying thunder your mind wanders once again to what occupies your thoughts most these days. <<if $lorcanquest>>\ If there is such a thing as a soul, does Stephanie's lie restless under the drowning mud of the earth? Was it a night like this when she went out into the dark and never escaped it? You think about the way Daryl talked about her. How her relationship with him must've been like. Her too young to understand what she was doing. You've watched as others have seemed to live more fulfilling lives than yours. But truly, what is there to envy about Stephanie's life? Perhaps, her death could be envied. <<elseif $imrequest>>\ If there is such a thing as a soul, does Candace's lie restless under the drowning mud of the earth? Was it a night like this when she went out into the dark and never escaped it? You remeber her mother's words. About her wishes for them to leave their poverty behind. What a twist of fate that Anna is poor in money and now in family. You've watched as others have seemed to live more fulfilling lives than yours. But truly, what is there to envy of Candace's life? Perhaps, her death could be envied. <<elseif $imrequest2>>\ If there is such a thing as a soul, does Sammy's lie restless under the drowning mud of the earth? Was it a night like this when he went out into the dark and never escaped it? You think about his picture in the paper. The anguish of his parents splayed all over the daily news. He was loved. You've looked out as others have seemed to live more fulfilling lives than yours. But truly, what is there to envy of Sammy's life? Perhaps, his death could be envied. <<elseif $lorcanquest2>>\ If there is such a thing as a soul, does Sammy's lie restless under the drowning mud of the earth? Was it a night like this when he went out into the dark and never escaped it? You think about his picture in the paper. The anguish of his parents splayed all over the daily news. He was loved. You've looked out as others have seemed to live more fulfilling lives than yours. But truly, what is there to envy of Sammy's life? Perhaps, his death could be envied. <<elseif $boysquest>>\ If there is such a thing as a soul, does Sammy's lie restless under the drowning mud of the earth? Was it a night like this when he went out into the dark and never escaped it? You think about his picture in the paper. The anguish of his parents splayed all over the daily news. He was loved. You've looked out as others have seemed to live more fulfilling lives than yours. But truly, what is there to envy of Sammy's life? Perhaps, his death could be envied. <</if>>\ Not the way. It was horrific, and nightmare-inducing. But maybe just the fact that they had their time cut short, before more suffering could visit them. Have you ever thought of it? <hr>\ * [[☽ Many times.|Page 328][$suicide1 to true]] ''TW: Suicidal Ideation'' * [[☄ You once did, but not anymore.|Page 328][$suicide2 to true]] ''TW: Suicidal Ideation'' * [[☄ Never.|Page 328][$suicide3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $suicide1>>\ In those moments when you were laying in that soft padded room, with your straightjack making you feel as if you were a feral animal with a chain around its neck, you thought of it. <<set $Worthless += 1>> When the drugs the doctors would give you throughout the years would make you so sick you couldn't hold anything down. Or you were afraid to go to school because people in your dreams would try to kill you, you thought of it. When you saw how your sister would stomp you into the ground and your parents downplayed actions her, even amusing themselves over her 'silly' little antics, you thought of it. When you looked into the mirror, at those eyes that belonged more to a corpse than a living, breathing, flesh and blood human, you thought of it. You imagined all the ways you could do it. It's so easy to die as a human. You would amuse yourself with all the elaborate plans you made on how to end your life. It made you the closest to happy you could get. You imagined disgusting, inhumane, sick, vicious ways to harm yourself to the maximum capacity. Those thoughts are still here now. And so maybe all the people who died got a far luckier fate than enduring all of this. <<elseif $suicide2>>\ In those moments when you were laying in that soft padded room, with your straightjack making you feel as if you were a feral animal with a chain around its neck, you thought of it. When the drugs the doctors would give you throughout the years would make you so sick you couldn't hold anything down. Or you were afraid to go to school because people in your dreams would try to kill you, you thought of it. When you saw how your sister would stomp you into the ground and your parents downplayed actions her, even amusing themselves over her 'silly' little antics, you thought of it.<<set $Worth += 2>> When you looked into the mirror, at those eyes that belonged more to a corpse than a living, breathing, flesh and blood human, you thought of it. You used to spend hours upon hours just creating fake scenarios in how to kill yourself and it would be your way of having fun. You imagined disgusting, inhumane, sick, vicious ways to harm yourself to the maximum capacity. But you find that your thoughts having been less frequent. It's not like the thought is completely gone. There are whispers of it. You find that you can spend days without even the word appearing in your mind. So all those kids who died? Their end was cruel and unfair, but some days you do feel like joining them. <<elseif $suicide3>>\ In the worst moments of your life. When you were laying in that soft padded room, with your straightjack making you feel as if you were a feral animal with a chain around its neck. When the drugs the doctors would give you throughout the years would make you so sick you couldn't hold anything down. Or you were afraid to go to school because people in your dreams would try to kill you. When you saw how your sister would stomp you into the ground and your parents downplayed actions her, even amusing themselves over her 'silly' little antics. When you looked into the mirror, at those eyes that belonged more to a corpse than a living, breathing, flesh and blood human. Never at any point did you even consider it. It's not due to any strong desire or love of life. It's just that it was never an option that occured to you and isn't the most appetizing. <<set $Worth += 2>> You're not too concerned with death but you don't think it does you any good to go out and seek it. Those dead children died tragically and had their lives cut short through no fault of their own, someone else decided to play God. <</if>> <<if $homei>>[[NEXT->Page 329]]<<elseif $homel>>[[NEXT->Page 329*]]<</if>> </h3>

<h3>Your mind drifts to the day you've had. And inevitably to the boys who you've seen more of than you've seen of anyone lately. <<if $handl>>\ You rub the hand that touched //his// against your arm and a small little noise escapes your lips. How could a simple hand-holding feel like something intimate? You've held hands before with people, like Nia. But this was... you can still remember how soft his palm felt pressed against yours. How his hand held yours in something between a grasp and caress. You huff, annoyed. //Where is this going?// You don't even know what it means. Worse of all, what does it mean to him? He's held a lot of hands. Are you one of the many? It's not like someone like him, a radiant sun could fit with a moon barely able to move above the horizon. <<elseif $handnol>>\ You bring your palm up. This hand could've touched his and at the time it seemed like a good idea but now you wished you had. It always feels so intimate when you touch his skin. Even briefly. You've touched others and it never felt like this. You huff, annoyed. //Where is this going?// You don't even know what it means. Worse of all, what does it mean to him? He's held a lot of hands. Are you one of the many? It's not like someone like him, a radiant sun could fit with a moon barely able to move above the horizon. <<elseif $kissy>>\ You feel your lips with the tip of your fingers. He tasted them. Enveloped them within his own and made them his. //You kissed Imre.// //YOU KISSED IMRE.// <<if $firstkissSQ >>You press your fingers to your lips. Completely different from what it felt like with Charley. That was just skin pressing. No emotion. No desire. You thought all kisses were like that.<<elseif not $firstkissSQ>>You press your fingers to your lips. Your first kiss. You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't even close to what you could've conjured up.<</if>> You hold your head in your hands and breathe in and out. What have you done? Out of all the idiots! He's never going to let this go. He'll have that stupid smirk on his face for the rest of your life. You gave in. You had a moment of weakness and gave in. No. lifting your head up you decide to never cede again. It's not even real to him. He did this solely to get you like this. Prick. You huff, annoyed. As if a guy like him would ever be caught dead with you. He's probably fulfilling some fantasy. <<elseif $kissyi>>\ You feel your lips with the tip of your fingers. He tasted them. Enveloped them within his own and made them his. //Imre kissed you.// //IMRE KISSED YOU.// <<if $firstkissSQ >>You press your fingers to your lips. Completely different from what it felt like with Charley. That was just skin pressing. No emotion. No desire. You thought all kisses were like that.<<elseif not $firstkissSQ>>You press your fingers to your lips. Your first kiss. You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't even close to what you could've conjured up.<</if>> You hold your head in your hands and breathe in and out. What have you done? Out of all the idiots! He's never going to let this go. He'll have that stupid smirk on his face for the rest of your life. You gave in. You had a moment of weakness and gave in. No. lifting your head up you decide to never cede again. It's not even real to him. He did this solely to get you like this. Prick. You huff, annoyed. As if a guy like him would ever be caught dead with you. He's probably fulfilling some fantasy. <<elseif $clothesC >>\ You have such a good time with Imre. It's different from what it was with Nia. With her you always felt as if she would one day slip through your fingers. With Imre you feel as if he'll remain. If not for friendship than for the weird fascination he has for whatever he thinks you are. At least he's fun. <<elseif $naurC >>\ Imre sure is annoying. The fact that you're saddled with him for the foreseeable future has you dreading the slow passage of time. If only you could do all of this yourself. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 330]] </h3>

<h3>Your mind drifts to the day you've had. And inevitably to the boys who you've seen more of than you've seen of anyone lately. <<if $spit>>\ Unwanted, deeply unwanted, your mind goes to Lorcan. You shiver as you think about how it felt to have him under you. Writhing. Your spit on his face, his on yours. Almost like a kis— Ugh. How stupid can you be? What if someone important had seen? Putting your head in your hands, you think about what Sally would say if he found you and your sister's ex in that position. You've been letting this go on for too long. But how could you know? It's always been tumultuous between you and him. Why is it so different now? If only things could be like it was two years ago. Lifting your head up you decide to completely stop this. No more touching, no more ribbing, no more time spent alone. Fuck it, you'll ask Imre to drive you home. Everything will be fine. <<elseif $throwl>>\ Unwanted, deeply unwanted, your mind goes to Lorcan. You shiver as you think about how it felt to have him under you. Writhing. Ugh. How stupid can you be? What if someone important had seen? Putting your head in your hands, you think about what Sally would say if he found you and your sister's ex in that position. You've been letting this go on for too long. But how could you know? It's always been tumultuous between you and him. Why is it so different now? If only things could be like it was two years ago. Lifting your head up you decide to completely stop this. No more touching, no more ribbing, no more time spent alone. Fuck it, you'll ask Imre to drive you home. Everything will be fine. <<elseif $simp>>\ You find yourself thinking of Lorcan. How can so much have changed in such little time? Just last month you would've said you wouldn't much care about whatever happens to him. Now, you find yourself liking his company. You find him funny and you like that you two can talk about the most random crap. All those years wasted fighting when you were so alike. Even though he acts like he still hates your guts, you know that involuntarily his loathing is lessening daily. Hopefully neither of you fuck it up. <<elseif $changes>>\ You find yourself thinking of Lorcan. How can so much have changed in such little time? Just last month you would've said you wouldn't much care about whatever happens to him. Now, you find yourself liking his company. You find him funny and you like that you two can talk about the most random crap. All those years wasted fighting. Even though he acts like he still hates your guts, you know that involuntarily his loathing is lessening daily. Hopefully neither of you fuck it up. <<elseif $closery>>\ You think about how Lorcan's arm felt beneath his jacket. How he didn't flinch away when you pressed close. He did tense up but you were pleasantly surprised when he didn't insult you. He let it happen. Insults no longer feel painful, they feel fun. They have less of an edge to them then when you were sworn enemies. Although Lorcan didn't see it until you told him. You smile softly as you recall his annoyed face at whenever you got into joking about anything and everything. It's nice, what you feel. Which is contrasted with your brain, the most rational part of you telling you that you shouldn't be doing whatever the hell you're doing. But if you haven't yet gone off the mental deep-end you can't help but feel that this wouldn't be happening if he also didn't encourage it. It can't only be you feeling this //thing//. But then what? <<elseif $closern>>\ You regret not pressing up against Lorcan when you had the chance. Call it cowardice or pride but what did it get you? Even if he had pushed you away you somehow know it wouldn't have been for a few moments. Insults no longer feel painful, they feel fun. They have less of an edge to them then when you were sworn enemies. Although Lorcan didn't see it until you told him. You smile softly as you recall his annoyed face at whenever you got into joking about anything and everything. It's nice, what you feel. Which is contrasted with your brain, the most rational part of you telling you that you shouldn't be doing whatever the hell you're doing. But if you haven't yet gone off the mental deep-end you can't help but feel that this wouldn't be happening if he also didn't encourage it. It can't only be you feeling this //thing//. But then what? <<elseif $yept>>\ You told him about a deep secret. You trusted the person you should've trusted least. And he accepted you. Lorcan who proclaims to wish your death didn't hesitate to accept you for who you are. Now, you find yourself liking his company. You find him funny and you like that you two can talk about the most random crap. All those years wasted fighting. Even though he acts like he still hates your guts, you know that involuntarily his loathing is lessening daily. Hopefully neither of you fuck it up. <<elseif $nopee>>\ You didn't tell him about what you are. But you find it wasn't because you didn't think he would accept you, rather you needed a moment to process it. And when you told Arthur, Lorcan didn't even pause before glaring at your driver who seemed like he didn't understand what you requested. Now, you find yourself liking his company. You find him funny and you like that you two can talk about the most random crap. All those years wasted fighting. Even though he acts like he still hates your guts, you know that involuntarily his loathing is lessening daily. Hopefully neither of you fuck it up. <<elseif $naurO>>\ The least delightful parts of your day is when you're forced to be with either Imre or Lorcan, or both. The people you most dislike and you're stuck with them. They say that spending more time with a person will get you to like them but it's the opposite for you. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 330]] </h3>

<h3>Suddenly you're caught with a fear. You slide off the window sill and kneel on the floor, reaching under your bed you pull out the wooden box. Putting it on the bed you quickly throw it open and rummage through it. Desperately throwing things aside, you start making a noise that's akin to a whimper as you don't see it. It was right here. //Someone found it.// No they didn't. You lift the lid and flip it over, letting all the contents fall onto the covers. You push things aside, eyes scanning frantically. //Someone's been in here and found it.// “Shut up.” You angrily crumple a picture, your hand shaking in anger and anxiety. You lean back, your mouth open as you look at your treasures. //There is no salvation for you now.// You rub your cheek, closing your eyes. Counting to three you open your eyes and see it peeking out from under a random carved figurine. Letting out a sigh of relief you grab it and hold it to your beating chest. It laughs. //The luck of the wretched.// [[NEXT->Page 331]] </h3>

<h3> //Mid October//<<audio "hopeless" stop>> You look up at the building. It's squat, really. Brown brick with two small windows at the front and a sign atop the door. That sign reads: 'CROWN LUMBER, circa. 1844' You stand on the sidewalk in between the two boys. “Remind me how this is a good idea?” you ask Imre. Slipping off his leather gloves, he replies, “your father has become a mysterious figure, like mine. He likely knows something, he's much more sober than your mother and he likes me.” “Yeah and he fucking hates me,” Lorcan chimes in. “Your brilliant idea is going to the shitter when he kicks me out.” <<if $tname >>“You were invited to his home when $tname came home. Perhaps his daughter's death has softened his heart,” Imre says with a hint of mockery.<<else>>“You were invited to his home when $name came home. Perhaps his daughter's death has softened his heart,” Imre says with a hint of mockery.<</if>> <<if $L>>\ You told both of them about your epiphany about yourself, it was less that you trusted them for it and more that you just couldn't stand to not be known as you are. <<elseif $transtruth>>\ You told both of them about your epiphany about yourself, it was less that you trusted them for it and more that you just couldn't stand to not be known as you are. <<elseif $transtruth>>\ You told both of them about your epiphany about yourself, it was less that you trusted them for it and more that you just couldn't stand to not be known as you are. <</if>>\ “Let's just get this over with so we can go to Nia's,” you say and push the front door open. You step onto carpeted flooring. The temperature in here is equal to the cold outside. You tuck your hands into the pockets of your coat. The secretary's desk is empty. So you bypass it towards the door at the end of the room. Without knocking, you walk in and see Sally seated on your father's chair. He doesn't look up as you come in, writing something down with his pen. “Katharine, I'd like you to send this to the bank as soon as I'm done drafting it. Hopefully Mr. Bancroft finds it in his heart to grant the loan or I don't know—“ he looks up from his desk and his eyebrows rise as he sees you and then Imre and Lorcan flanking either side of you. “Sweetheart what are you and your friends doing here?” <hr>\ * [[Answer him. (Take the lead.)|Page 332][$Sallyy to true]] * [[Let Imre answer him.|Page 332]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Sallyy>>\ “Hey, Sally. We're here to see Father. Is he in?” Sally blinks in confusion, “Father?”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “You know... beer gut, balding, a general asshole,” Lorcan snarks. Sally frowns and sets aside the letter he was writing. “I'm sorry to say but Father isn't here, he had to go to the city.” “Do you know when he'll be back?” you and Imre ask simultaneously. Sally looks from you to Imre and then answers you, “he didn't say. But I wouldn't hold your breath, he will probably not come back until after dark and you know I don't like you being outside of the house when the sun goes down.” Lorcan rolls his eyes. Imre seems like he wants to say something but he turns to you and just smiles, jerking his head to your brother as if to say 'it's all you.' “We really need to speak to him. It's important,” you press. “Why?” he asks suspiciously. You feel Imre's eyes on you. Lorcan looks bored out of his mind, picking at his nails. <hr>\ * [[Tell him the truth.|Page 333][$truthyou to true]] * [[Lie.|Page 333][$truthnah to true]] <<elseif not $Sallyy>>\ “Sally, it's good to see you,” Imre greets friendly. Sally smiles in return and says, “you too Imre. How's your Father?” Imre's lips quirk, “the same as yours I would suppose.” A look of irritation flashes through Sally's eyes for a brief moment but he responds, “more or less.” Confused you look from Sally to Imre. “I won't bother asking if your father is in, I know he's busy these days. So I would like to ask you a few questions about Yasmine of Mir.” Sally gives you a questioning look, “what is this about? Are you snooping into these things?” “It's not really 'snooping',” you begin, “it's more...” You look to Imre. “Curiosity and an act of goodwill towards Nia who we care for,” Imre replies. Sally points his pen to Lorcan, “you care about Nia?” Lorcan shrugs, “not really. Imre's just my ride.” “R...ight,” Sally says sounding even more confused. “Can we talk?” Sally asks you. His eyes intent as he says, “privately?” <hr>\ * [[Talk.|Page 333*][$talkp to true]] * [[Refuse.|Page 333*][$notalk to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $truthyou>>\ Sighing internally as you know what is about to happen, you let it out. “We're investigating the rapid and continous disappearance of the girls of this town and we think that Yasmine Mir and her own disappearance have something to do with that.” You can feel the waves of cold anger and disapproval coming from Imre. Ignoring him you catch a glimpse of Lorcan looking at you with an astonished face, not a hint of negativity within his face. But the worst reaction comes from your brother. His fingers, splayed on his desk begin to curl, his eyes are hard and his nose lets out bursts of rapid air. The blazing fury of his face on you makes the temperature of your body rise. “Sally—“ you begin. He raises a hand to silence you. His teeth grinding together he commands, “go home right now. You and I will talk about this when I get home. And you two who clearly set this up,” he throws furious looks at the boys, “will never contact my—“ “That's really not up to you,” Imre replies cordially. Sally glares at Imre, who for his part looks rather smug. Lorcan rubs the back of his neck, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. “As the eldest brother I get to decide over my family. I don't need the input of a //child//,” Sally chides. You don't know who he's referring to as a 'child.' “Well it's great that you aren't talking to children, Salvatore,” he responds coolly. “Only children would get the stupid idea to go chasing murderers without any idea as to their own safety. I expected this from someone less mature than you Imre and I'm sure your father—“ “Given that I'm the only one who sees him regularly and not you, I would ask that you keep your opinions as to what //my// father would do to yourself. Focus on preventing your family from the bankruptcy caused by your father's ineptitude,” Imre shoots back with an even tone, his smile cutting. Lorcan looks back and forth between them as if it were a game of volleyball. At Imre's retort he looks down, covering his shaky lips with his hand. <hr>\ * [[Appeal nicely to Sally.|Page 334][$niceMC to true]] * [[Tell Sally he isn't the boss.|Page 334][$badMC to true]] <<elseif $truthnah >>\ You can already imagine what his reaction would be if he knew what you were really doing. How embarrassing that would be for you. You try to smile convincingly, “is it so bad for me to want to see my dad?” Sally's expression of doubt instantly falls into lament. He stands up and walks to the other side of the table. Grabbing your shoulders he replies gently, “no it's not bad at all.” You return his gentle smile. Lorcan coughs as if he's trying to dispel phlegm. Sally looks to Imre and asks, “but why are you here?” Imre pats your arm with a friendly smile, “moral support.” “Also...,” you hesitate, trying to best formulate your next words to keep him content. “He might know something about Yasmine Mir. And you know how Nia and I haven't been... close lately... I thought maybe she would appreciate it...” You lower your eyebrows and look down for dramatic effect. Imre might just buy you a bouquet of flowers for your performance. Sally squeezes your shoulders and nudges your chin up with the curve of his thumb. His eyes are sad. “I was wondering why she wasn't coming over that much anymore.” Lorcan grumbles. Sally moves back, “ask away. I'm not Father but I might be able to help.” <hr>\ * [[“Did Mother or Father ever say anything about Yasmine?”|Page 334-Q][$salQ1 to true]] * [[“What do you know about Yasmine?”|Page 334-QD][$salQ2 to true]] * [[“Did anyone look for Yasmine?”|Page 334-QE][$salQ3 to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $talkp>>\ “Ok.” “I'm not fucking waiting outside like a dog—“ Lorcan is yanked out of the room by Imre. You hear him complain until the front door is thrown shut. Once alone Sally gets out from behind his desk and walks over to you. Smiling pleasantly he says, “you can stay here for the rest of the day and once we're home I'll tell Arthur to make sure those boys don't come to the manor anymore.” “What?” Sally lays a hand on your shoulder, “don't worry they won't be bothering you again.” You shake your head, “Sally that's not—“ “I've been so distracted by work that I didn't realize what kind of people were circling around you,” he says with regret. Giving you a once over he claims, “you're still so young. People will try to take advantage of that. But it's not your fault sweetheart.” Your mouth opens to protest but he cuts you off again, “I expect this behaviour from Lorcan. But Imre? He's such a fine boy. Good manners too. Unfortunately few people are above abusing someone so fragile.” Your hands balling into fists you say, “no one is making me do any–“ “I'll make a call to the mayor, I'll go to his house if I have to but I won't let Imre hurt you,” he interjects. “SALLY—“ <hr>\ * [[“THEY'RE MY FRIENDS.”|Page 334*][$friendsyip to true]] * [[“I DON'T NEED YOU TO SAVE ME.”|Page 334*][$friendsnaap to true]] <<elseif $notalk >>\ Squaring your shoulders you reply resolutely, “anything you need to say to me you can say in front of them.” Sally looks momentarily stunned as the words leave your lips. You're a tad surprised at yourself too. Weeks ago, heck, probably even days ago you wouldn't have said such a thing. “This is a private matter, I don't think Imre or Lorcan care to know the details of our personal family business,” he insists with a slight pleading inflection. “I for one, don't mind, do you Lorcan?” Imre asks with a sarcastic tone. “I'm so damn bored I won't even be listening,” Lorcan assures with a sneer. “See?” you say. Sally sighs exasperated, rubbing his eyes. “You're kids. You don't know what you're doing. You'll be putting yourself right in harm's way.” Imre tilts his head, a curious look with traces of delight on his face. “Why would inquiring into Nia's mother be dangerous? Is it because of her disapperance? Does it have something to do with those crazy rants she would go into?” Sally looks more irritated as Imre keeps talking. Who to his credit isn't dissuaded either because he doesn't notice how mad Sally is or because he simply doesn't care. “Imre, I value your father a lot, which is why I'm telling you to go home, drive these two home and leave all of this in the past. Dr. Mir is still very hurt, and Nia wouldn't appreciate you bringing traumatic memories up.” Imre smirks and responds, “ok. We'll investigate no further.” Sally's smiles in relief but before he can say more Imre adds, “as long as you tell us what we want to know.” Sally throws you a helpless look and you decide to use that moment to $habit, looking at a corner of the chipped desk. Your brother takes a few moments to answer. Finally you hear him sigh, in a defeatist voice he says meekly, “what do you want to know?” [[NEXT->Page 334*]]<<set $nocho to true>> <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $niceMC>>\ You move to stand in front of Imre, making Sally break eye contact. His expression is still as sour but it lessens a bit when he sees you. “Sally this isn't as bad as it seems really,” you insist. “It isn't as bad? You're trying to take down someone that the police hasn't been able to in forever. I'm not going to let you. Frankly I didn't think you would be so eager to put yourself in—“ “We're not actually investigating anything!“ you blurt out. Sally raises a skeptical eyebrow, “you just said you were.” You sigh, wracking your brain for a plausible lie. Or... a half-truth. “Ok yeah, we're investigating but it's not real life. We're doing it as a class project.” “Class project?” he asks doubtful. “For what class? What's the assignment? Who else are you talking to?” You blink. “Um...” “It's an experiment Mrs. Paulson, the English teacher and Mr. Wright, the history teacher are trying out. For extra credit we get into groups of three and pick a topic pertaining to a historical town event from the perspective of a fictional newspaper,” Imre interjects swiftly, he moves to stand next to you. In a voice full of truth he finishes off with, “we're going to talk to Nia herself and perhaps some officers. That's all.” Sally watches Imre closely, eyes narrowing trying to pinpoint where on the boy's face or where in his speech he's lying. But Imre presents a clean, honest and helpful facade. “Yo, do you think I'd spend more time with these two assholes than necessary?” Lorcan chimes in. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and then begins almost quietly, “I don't remember much about her.” Letting his hand fall he continues, “she was a strange lady. I never saw her act as insane as other's said,” he quickly looks to you at this, “but she was committed once by her husband and then one day she just disappeared. No one heard from her again.” “She was committed?” Imre asks but he seems to be thinking. Sally nods. “I don't know when exactly but there's—“ he cuts off and goes to the desk. You, Imre, and Lorcan exchange glances. Opening a drawer, Sally rummages through it before taking a crinkly paper out. He holds it up and scans it. Coming over again he hands you it. You see a black and white picture of a gorgeous woman smiling next to Dr. Mir, with the headline 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT.' “I hope that's something,” Sally says. Grinning you reply, “yes it is, thank you!“ Imre takes the newspaper, folds it under his arm and says, “we should get going before nightfall.” Imre looks to Sally, “Salvatore.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the office. Lorcan nods awkwardly to Sally and follows. After the door shuts you look back at your brother and... <hr>\ * [[Kiss his cheek.|Page 335][$cheeks to true]] * [[Give him a quick hug.|Page 335][$hugss to true]] * [[Say 'bye'.|Page 335][$quickb to true]] <<elseif $badMC>>\ Raising your chin, making yourself seem tall in spirit you move to stand in front of Imre, forcing Sally to look at you. In a resolute voice you say, “you're not the boss of me. And furthermore whatever I want to do is none of your fucking business, Sally.” A flash of hurt appears through his eyes. Swallowing, his eyes — the same color as yours — blink rapidly and he walks to his desk. Not looking away from you he opens a drawer, moves things around with one hand and pulls out a yellowed paper. Turning it to you while holding it up you see it's a newspaper with the headline 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT.' “You must be looking for something like this?” he shoves it back into the drawer and slams it angrily. Eyes shining he says hotly, “I don't know what's gotten into you lately, it's likely your recent friendships but like it or not you're still a child, my c—“ he grumbles. Clearing his throat and gestures to the door, “I won't be answering anymore of your questions and I think I'll call Dr. Mir so that he can be forewarned about you trying to pry things out of him.” Eyes boring into you he adds, “you and I will talk about your recent attitude when I get home. If you aren't home when I get there you can forget about having the liberties I've been giving you lately.” Glaring at him you turn around and throw the door open to have it slam against the wall. The cold air does nothing to dissipate your growing anger. Who does he think he is?! Talking to you like you're his fucking pet?! He embarassed you in front of Imre and Lorcan! //Trouble in paradise?// You kick a nearby fire hydrant, growling as a sharp pain shoots through your big toe. You hear the door behind you open and Imre comes out first, a glint of sick joy on his face. Lorcan gives you a curious look and says nothing as you throw your angry expression his way. Imre's eyes follow you as you pace back and forth. Putting out an arm in front of you he says, “we need to get that newspaper.” You move his arm out of the way and continue pacing, “well I sure fucking can't.” You point at... <hr>\ * [[“Imre, go get it.”|Page 335*][$imren to true]] * [[“Lorcan, go get it.”|Page 335*][$lorcann to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $cheeks >>\ You give him a quick peck on the cheek, Sally raises his eyebrows slightly but smiles warmly at you. “I'll see you at dinner!“ you yell as you slip out of the room. “BE CAREFUL!“ he yells back. <<elseif $hugss >>\ You give him a quick hug, much too brief to be tight but enough for him to quickly hug you back. He's surprised but recovers fast enough to smile affectionately at you. “I'll see you at dinner!“ you yell as you slip out of the room. “BE CAREFUL!“ he yells back. <<elseif $quickb >>\ “Ok, I gotta go,” you say as you're already walking to the door. “I'll see you at dinner!“ you yell as you slip out of the room. “BE CAREFUL!“ he yells back. <</if>> The cold air of the wind is much more shocking now as the front door of the building closes behind you. Imre is leaning on his car, slowly putting on his gloves. Lorcan is smoking a few feet away, the cigarette nearly half way done. Rubbing your cold hands you ask, “so what was in the newspaper?” Imre hands it to you, “I thought we could peruse it together. Read.” You take it from him and unfold it. “That's kind of you.” Imre smirks, “I'll ignore the tone of surprise.” Lorcan makes a face as he's inhaling. [[NEXT->Page 336]] </h3>

<h3>You lean on Imre's car, both of the boys crowd around you as you begin reading. “Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind. Some residents have already made their opinions on the matter known. Miss Kinglsey, who lives on White Street says: //“she was a weird one. Going around and talking to herself. I always knew something was going to happen and it did.”//“ “I know her, big mouth bitch,” Lorcan chimes in. “Mrs. Mir came to this fair town in 1974. She and Dr. Mir met while he was vacationing and it was love at first sight. Many residents — particularly of the female persuasion — were devastated when the eligible bachelor came back with a wedding ring. Mrs. Mir was said to be an academic, specializing in ancient languages. Us at the Crown Daily and the rest of the town hope for her safe return.” Imre rubs his chin and looks vacant at a spot on the ground. You fold the newspaper, shoving it into your coat as the wind picks up and makes the tiny droplets of oncoming rain hit your face. “So, what do you think?” you ask Imre. He hums and stands up. He doesn't look at either of you, saying, “it seems Yasmine Mir is much more interesting than we thought.” [[NEXT->Page 337]] </h3>

<h3><<if $friendsyip >>\ Sally moves his head back as you yell that. “Friends?” You nod. “You've been saying since I came back that I need more friends. Well...,” you gesture vaguely. Sally sighs, “you listen to me by choosing the two people who I don't want you to be friends with?” “What's wrong with them?” you ask. “They're clearly a bad influence just look at you!“ Sally gestures to you. You look down at your clothes and raise an eyebrow. You look the same. Crossing your arms you reply, “no one is holding a gun to my head, Sally. I'm here because I want to be.” Sally shakes his head, as if he expected you to say something so stupid. Running a hand down his face he pauses for a moment and then looks to you. “I don't know much but I have something.” You watch as he goes to his desk, pulls on a drawer and looks through it. Bringing it out he hands it to you with a look of resignation on his face. “Give that to Imre,” he says defeated. Grabbing it you read the headline: 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT.' Looking up at Sally you say gratefully, “Sally, thank you.” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, $name,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, $name,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, brother,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. It's probably not the time to tell him you're transgender. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, sister,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. It's probably not the time to tell him you're transgender. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, sister,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. It's probably not the time to tell him you're non-binary. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “I'm disappointed in you, brother,” he replies. Your smile falls as he gives you a sad look and walks away. It's probably not the time to tell him you're non-binary. <</if>> Not knowing how to respond to that you roll your lips and turn away. You gently open the door and slip through, before closing it you see Sally sitting at his desk, his face sullen. <<set $sullen to true>> [[NEXT->Page 336-M]] <<elseif $friendsnaap >>\ Sally takes a step back as if you've slapped him. “What?” You cover your mouth and you feel like you have a shocked expression on your face. You don't usually talk to him that way and you've never said //that//. You drop your hand and clench your jaw. Your voice starting off shaky finishes much stronger as you respond, “I'm not a baby anymore Sally. There are a lot of things you don't know about me.” “Like what?” he asks defiantly. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “That I'm not a little princess made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “That I'm not a little prince made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “That I'm not a little princes-prince made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. You don't know why you don't tell you're trans. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “That I'm not a little prince-princess made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. You don't know why you don't tell you're trans. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “That I'm not a little baby made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. You don't know why you don't tell you're non-binary. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “That I'm not a little baby made of glass. I don't need to be saved by you or anyone,” you reply in an even tone. You don't know why you don't tell you're non-binary. <</if>> Sally scoffs, shaking his head but says nothing. He goes to his desk and roughly pulls out a drawer, he looks through it and takes out some crumpled paper. He hands it to you and as you read the headline he says, “when you're not able to protect yourself I'll be waiting with open arms, always.” 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT'. You look at Sally, a mix of emotions on your face. He helped you while also telling you he doesn't think you capable. Doesn't that just show the relationship you've always had? “Sally— “You better go. I don't want you home late,” he replies and kisses your forehead, a displeased tone to his words. Not knowing how to respond to that you roll your lips and turn away. You gently open the door and slip through, before closing it you see Sally sitting at his desk, his face sullen. [[NEXT->Page 336-M]] <<elseif $nocho >>\ “Everything and anything you know about Yasmine Mir,” Imre says. Sally pinches the bridge of his nose and then begins almost quietly, “I don't remember much about her.” Letting his hand fall he continues, “she was a strange lady. I never saw her act as insane as other's said,” he quickly looks to you at this, “but she was committed once by her husband and then one day she just disappeared. No one heard from her again.” “She was committed?” Imre asks but he seems to be thinking. Sally nods. “I don't know when exactly but there's—“ he cuts off and goes to the desk. You, Imre, and Lorcan exchange glances. Opening a drawer, Sally rummages through it before taking a crinkly paper out. He holds it up and scans it. Coming over he glances at Imre before handing the paper to you. If that bothers Imre he hardly shows it, his eyes far away. You see a black and white picture of a gorgeous woman smiling next to Dr. Mir, with the headline 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT.' “I hope that's something,” Sally says. Grinning you reply, “yes it is, thank you!“ Imre takes the newspaper, folds it under his arm and says, “we should get going before nightfall.” Imre looks to Sally, “Salvatore.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the office. Lorcan nods awkwardly to Sally and follows. After the door shuts you look back at your brother and... <hr>\ * [[Kiss his cheek.|Page 335][$cheeks to true]] * [[Give him a quick hug.|Page 335][$hugss to true]] * [[Say 'bye'.|Page 335][$quickb to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>The rain comes down as if Zeus himself aimed to punish your town. Being an island, it's surprising that with the amount of rain it gets, it hasn't been swallowed up in the lake yet. Perhaps, one day. <<audio "thunder" loop play>> The windshield wipers frantically try to counter the torrents of water running down the glass to little success. Imre's usual speedy driving is hindered and you find yourself in traffic. What's supposed to be a ten minute drive turns into twenty-five minutes. You watch blobs of color behind the distorted watery window, people in different colored coats and raincoats running for shelter. Fliers detach from street lamps, tumbling down the sidewalks. Trash cans topple over, their contents rolling in wind currents down the road. Coats are thrown open, hair sticks and flies around. Cars honk. Shop owners hurriedly carry tables and chairs inside. Blinds are closed. Teens huddle under porches, shivering and miserable. Lorcan shoves forward and turns up the heater at a certain point. Imre's fingers tap quickly against the steering wheel, his impatience felt in each exhale. The clouds above the town grow dark gray, allowing no instances of light to penetrate the gloom. Imre keeps slamming on the brakes as every time the traffic seems to lessen, it immediately resumes. “OH MY GOD WHEN ARE WE GETTING THERE?” Lorcan complains from the backseat. Imre sneers at him from the rearview mirror, “do you not see the thunderstorm in front of your eyes? What would you have me do?” “Why the hell did you take the main road? You should've gone past the school instead,” Lorcan snaps. “Oh, I was not aware that this was your car. Please, grace us with your expert driving skills,” he snarks coldly. “You know what dick—“ “We're here,” you announce. And sure enough, the sign for the SeaBird Estates stands out amongst the rain, thunder and lush greenery of the trees enroaching upon the road. As the other day, Imre's car passes the gilded gates. Traverses down the street and stops in front of Dr. Mir's house which could more aptly be called a mansion. The immense Brazilian trees still obscure most of it, even in daylight — although the weather today isn't helping. Imre sets the car in park and says, “I feel the best course of action would be to have someone go in there first to... 'warm' her up. It would be foolish to ambush her immediately.” Knowing Nia as you do, he's right. “Well don't look at me, she hates me,” Lorcan states. You look at the house, and then to Imre whose eyes flicker to you. <hr>\ * [[“I'll go.”|Page 339][$crn to true]] * [[“She likes you best.”|Page 339]] </h3>

<h3><<if $crn>>\ “You sure?” he asks, a rueful smile on his face. You unbuckle your seatbelt, “might as well get used to talking to her again.” “We'll await your signal.” You nod and open the door. As you close it you hear Lorcan ask Imre if they can go get some burgers, to which Imre immediately tells him no. You walk up the slippery grass, almost tripping as you aim for the safety of the railing. Cold to the touch, you grasp it and walk up the small stone steps that you've walked up hundreds of times in the past. Now it feels like a distant memory. The silver gazelle greets you. The knocker always seemed so delicate for a house so strong. How can a house be strong? You don't know, but Nia's house with its onyx panelling and its green color scheme fit the bill. You knock on the door and wait. When it opens you expect to see the old man that seems to have always been the same age, open the door but you're stunned when Nia herself appears in front of you. At a momentary loss for words you say, “you're here.” She quirks an eyebrow, “I live here.” Stupid. You clear your thoughts and ask, “since when do you open doors?” “I saw that it was you and so I dared to dirty my hands with peasant work,” she says drily. “Saw?” She leans out a bit and points to the corner of the porch. You squint and barely manage to see the tiny camera concealed within the black wood. A gust of wind blows locks of her hair around her face, “come in before I catch a cold.” She walks inside, not bothering to wait for you. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> [[NEXT->Page 340]] <<elseif not $crn>>\ “I wouldn't be too sure of that,” he replies with a vacant smile. “Has she ever abandoned you?” “Touché,” he replies and gets out of the car. Your eyes follow him he walks on the lawn towards the house. “Wait, does that mean we have to stay here and fucking wait?” Lorcan asks, voice laced with disbelief. “Well I can't drive and Imre will call the cops if you take his car,” you respond. “No he wo—“ Lorcan stops and then sighs dramaticallty. “Fine, then I'm taking a nap. Don't bother me.” He takes off his jacket, lays down on the seat and covers himself with it like a blanket. You lay your head back against the headrest and wait. [[NEXT->Page 348*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You have to push the door hard to get it closed. You wonder how Nia made it look effortless. <<audio "thunder" stop>> You look around, taking in the familiar surroundings of the main lobby. Marble flooring, black panels and forest green paint along the walls. Truth be told it looks rather sinister. The elevator stands at the far end, it goes up until the third floor. Nia looks over her shoulder, eyeing you as you stand out of place in the middle of the room. “You're acting as if you've never been here before,” she notes. “It's been a while,” you reply. She shrugs and continues walking to one of the many black doors in the lobby. You take a moment to realize what she's wearing and almost laugh. She has a collection of elaborate house robes. Made of tulle, feathers and silk the robe drags behind her gently. It's a green that matches the walls as well as the ribbon she used to hold her hair up. “I don't know if you lost your ability to talk but come here, I need you.” You walk across the lobby, your steps echoing off the walls. She moves aside to let you see into the room she's just opened the door to. It's the kitchen. A state-of-the-art room equipped with its own personal chef, assistant cook and maid. The head chef, Marcel if you recall, gives you a nod in greeting. You look from him to Nia who gives you an expectant look. “What do you want for dinner?” “Dinner?” She breathes in deeply, a sign of mild annoyance. “I usually eat around this time. You're here, so, what do you want to eat?” <hr>\ * [[“Lasagna?”|Page 341][$lasagna to true]] * [[“Soup?”|Page 341][$soup to true]] * [[“Salad?”|Page 341][$salad to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $lasagna>>\ “Is that a question?” You look from her to the chef and reply slowly, “no?” She sighs. “Is //that// a question?” “I want lasagna,” you state. She looks over to Marcel, “lasagna.” <<elseif $soup >>\ “Is that a question?” You look from her to the chef and reply slowly, “no?” She sighs. “Is //that// a question?” “I want soup,” you state. She looks over to Marcel, “soup.” <<elseif $salad >>\ “Is that a question?” You look from her to the chef and reply slowly, “no?” She sighs. “Is //that// a question?” “I want a salad,” you state. She looks over to Marcel, “salad.” <</if>> Marcel gets to work and Nia nudges you aside to close the door, the sound of pots are quickly muffled by the heavy door. Once the door clicks she looks at you. And you at her. Seeing her here, in front of you, alone after weeks feels surreal. Being in her house where you used to rollerblade on the second floor doesn't help either. <<if $hateN >>\ You think about the hate you've been harbouring for her. The intensity of it sometimes surprises you. And seeing her here, so regal, so put together as if nothing happened— <<elseif $angryN >>\ Seeing her here, looking so perfect and unbothered makes this mission much harder on you. It's not fair that she can be so calm! She should be like you— <<elseif $shrugN >>\ Being with her does nothing to clear your thoughts or feelings for her. You thought that by seeing her you would finally be able to untangle this but— <<elseif $careN >>\ Nia, in all her splendour takes you back as if no time has passed at all. She looks almost the same, it feels safe, familiar and warm— <</if>> “You've become a lot more stare-y lately,” she says, interrupting your thoughts. You shake your head, “it's nothing. I've just had a couple of weird days.” “Yeah, that's what usually happens when you decide to partake in a suicide mission with two boys who couldn't give less of a shit about you,” she monotones, “I think.” “And you give a shit about me?” you ask, your voice developing an edge that sounds ugly. “Why are you here?” she asks. <hr>\ * [[♥️ “I wanted to see you.”|Page 342][$niceN to true]] * [[♡ “Don't flatter yourself, I'm not here by choice.”|Page 342][$bitchN to true]] * [[⟡ “Ever heard of hatchet burying?”|Page 342][$houseN to true]] * [[“I don't want to be.”|Page 342][$naurN to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niceN >>\ She merely stares at you when you say that. No outward expression of joy or disagreement. A deep wound is cut into you. “Is that so?” she asks, her voice sounds almost sleepy.<<set $NiaRF += 1>> “You've been avoiding me, so I thought this was the only way I could get you to see me,” you explain timidly. She plucks a lock of hair from her bun and plays around with it, walking past you. You look over at her and she says loudly, “come. We can talk while we wait.” You follow her flowy robe into the parlor. This one large and opulent enough to make the one you have at home look like a shack. Like yours, it has a fireplace but somehow this room always feels cold. Nia sits down on a green high chair, lined with black material. Your eyes find the big sleek piano at the corner. Rare were the times you saw Nia sit there, she would complain about playing even though she did it so beautifully. “Don't even think about asking me,” Nia states, noticing where your eyes were. <hr>\ * [[Sit as close to her as you can.|Page 343][$nearN to true]] * [[Sit across from her.|Page 343][$acrossN to true]] <<elseif $bitchN >>\ You see a hint of a smile on her face. “I can tell by your childish pout,” she says. You press your mouth closed. That makes her smile more noticeable. “And I don't suppose you'll tell me why you've been forced here?” You shake your head, crossing your arms. Somehow that makes her want to smile even more. <<set $NiaRA += 1>> She plucks a lock of hair from her bun and plays around with it, walking past you. You look over at her and she says loudly, “come. We can talk while we wait.” You follow her flowy robe into the parlor. This one large and opulent enough to make the one you have at home look like a shack. Like yours, it has a fireplace but somehow this room always feels cold. Nia sits down on a green high chair, lined with black material. Your eyes find the big sleek piano at the corner. Rare were the times you saw Nia sit there, she would complain about playing even though she did it so beautifully. “Don't even think about asking me,” Nia states, noticing where your eyes were. <hr>\ * [[Sit as close to her as you can.|Page 343][$nearN to true]] * [[Sit across from her.|Page 343][$acrossN to true]] <<elseif $houseN >>\ Nia's expression remains almost neutral, except for a slight light in her eyes. You don't know what that means. “And what hatchet are we burying?” she asks, her voice holding a bit of curiosity amidst the monotone.<<set $NiaP += 1>> “Actually, I'm certain you don't even know,” she adds in a quiet voice. She plucks a lock of hair from her bun and plays around with it, walking past you. You look over at her and she says loudly, “come. We can talk while we wait.” You follow her flowy robe into the parlor. This one large and opulent enough to make the one you have at home look like a shack. Like yours, it has a fireplace but somehow this room always feels cold. Nia sits down on a green high chair, lined with black material. Your eyes find the big sleek piano at the corner. Rare were the times you saw Nia sit there, she would complain about playing even though she did it so beautifully. “Don't even think about asking me,” Nia states, noticing where your eyes were. <hr>\ * [[Sit as close to her as you can.|Page 343][$nearN to true]] * [[Sit across from her.|Page 343][$acrossN to true]] <<elseif $naurN >>\ She doesn't visibly react. “So, you're here for a reason that has nothing to do—“ she stops herself. A look of irritation passes her eyes. “I don't even know why I agreed,” you attest. She plucks a lock of hair from her bun and plays around with it, walking past you. You look over at her and she says loudly, “come. We can talk while we wait.” You follow her flowy robe into the parlor. This one large and opulent enough to make the one you have at home look like a shack. Like yours, it has a fireplace but somehow this room always feels cold. Nia sits down on a green high chair, lined with black material. Your eyes find the big sleek piano at the corner. Rare were the times you saw Nia sit there, she would complain about playing even though she did it so beautifully. “Don't even think about asking me,” Nia states, noticing where your eyes were. <hr>\ * [[Sit as close to her as you can.|Page 343][$nearN to true]] * [[Sit across from her.|Page 343][$acrossN to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $nearN >>\ You take the identical chair next to her. If she cares that you're so close, she doesn't even bother to look your way. <<elseif $acrossN >>\ You sit on a green couch across from her. If she cares that you're far, she doesn't even bother to look your way. <</if>> The crackle of the fire, bounces off the walls and floor of the room. In this house it's so quiet you can hear the chef and his underlings in the kitchen, even though there are several heavy doors between you. <<if $niceN >>\ “What are you thinking about?” she asks softly. You look down at your clasped hands, your voice sounds far too loud for this place. “Just how silent this house is, was it always like this?” Nia leans on her hand, her tall, red-tipped finger pressing into her delicate cheek. “Lately.” “What are you thinking about?” Nia smiles drily. “Whether you're a masochist or really stubborn.” You smile at that, rolling your lips to prevent it from growing. “And what's the verdict?” She side-eyes you, “today, masochism. Tomorrow, stubbornesss.” “And what do you think I want?” you ask, your voice taking on a strange tone to it you've never used with her. “Me,” she says simply. Your stomach twists, your guts rolling over each other at how casual yet true that is. Now that you're here, that you're with her, that she said that. Oh... you do. You want her. You want to be near her. You want her scent to linger on you. You want to be trapped within her eyes. You want— You realize you've been staring and look down at your hands again. You feel your face is hot. Where the hell did that come from? Why is this happening? What is this? “You're thinking far too hard, Birdie.” //Please, don't act so innocent.// <<elseif $bitchN >>\ “For someone who's been here a thousand times, that gawky starry-eyed look doesn't suit you,” she states. You grimace, “I'm not starry-eyed. Have it ever crossed your mind that even wallpaper is more interesting to me than you?” Nia smiles at that, her expression that of triumph. She won and it irks you because you don't even know what game you're playing. “I've been told I put Venus to shame. Have people lied to me?” she asks teasingly. You lean back in the seat and cross your arms. “I don't like art.” You hear her chuckle and you feel a warm pressure in your chest. “For someone who looks at me like I'm the devil, you do find any excuse to see me.” You dig your nails into your palm. “Are you deaf? I said that I don't want to be here,” you emphasize slowly. “Well you're not in a hurry to get away from me. If it was someone else I might even think that they want me near. That they like that I piss them off. That they come here just for me to insult them because I touch a deep desire inside of them,” she taunts. “If it was any other person, dear old friend,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, your nails looking to dig into your stomach that feels oddly queasy. The irresistable smile on her face as her eyes trail down your body make you feel exposed. Naked. <<elseif $houseN >>\ “You keep looking at the house. Has it really changed that much?” she inquires. You hum. “Yes and no. On the one hand I noticed you put up new art pieces and got a new couch. But on the other hand, this was like my second home. I could recognize it if I was blind.” She looks at one of the new paintings. “I got it because this fancy, snobby art dealer said it would bring the room together. But I don't understand shit about art and I don't understand that stupid painting,” she admits. You follow her stare and examine the painting of a swan in a lake, surrounded by branches curling towards it. You guess it was intentional that the branches look like hands. “Maybe something about corruption?” you ponder. Nia slightly squints. “I don't see it. But if anyone asks I'll steal your idea.” You smile, “it's all yours.” Her eyes move to you and she says, “you look less... asleep. What have you been doing?” “Nothing really. Just going out more,” you shrug. The corner of her lip turns up, “you look good. I'm... glad for you.” The words seem to make her uncomfortable but her tone sounds sincere. <<elseif $naurN >>\ “You don't look like you're in the mood to talk,” she observes. “No, I'm not.” She nods, “good. I'm not in the mood to be hostess either so let's just sit here and not annoy each other.” She's already more considerate than the boys. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 344]] </h3>

<h3>You two go quiet again. There's so much to say and yet, you can't find the right words in the right combination. She doesn't seem too eager to do it herself. “It feels strange,” she says. She points between us, “doesn't it?” <<if $niceN >>\ “Yeah,” you agree. “It's like I have things to say but—“ “You don't know how to say them,” she concludes. “Exactly,” you say, relieved that she's just as confused as you. “It would be easier if you just started yelling at me,” she suggests. You quirk an eyebrow, “how would that make things easier?” She smiles enigmatically. “It would be easier for me, I mean. Then I could act like the offended party.” You lean on your knees and reply with a smile of your own. “Then forgive me for being a brat and making this harder for you.” She laughs, a sound so melodic it makes you want to burst into a smile out of happiness. <<elseif $bitchN >>\ “That's not because of me,” you immediately attest. “Uh,” she rolls her eyes. “Must you be so damn disagreeable? You come to my house to insult me and scowl? Is that it?” “I'm not even fucking doing anything! I'm just saying the truth, that if I'm treating you like this it's because you deserve it!“ you claim loudly. She looks at you for a long moment. You think she might just get up and slap you. Something you would welcome, you fantasize about wiping that 'I-know-better-than-you' permanent look on her face. Instead, she laughs. It's a strong laugh. It bounces off the walls but it's not ugly. It's the laugh you imagine a river nymph from tales of old would have. It momentarily extinguishes your anger. The way the fire catches the curve of her brown neck. Her thick lips glisten along her teeth. The crinkles at the edge of her eyes somehow make her look younger. A thought, unwanted and unconcious comes to the forefront. //She's the most beautiful woman in the world.// You scowl at yourself and sink deeper into the seat. She stops laughing, a winsome smile still etched on her face. “You look so adorable when you have a tantrum,” you open your mouth to argue but she holds her hand up, “you're right though.” You close your mouth and look anyway. Now you don't know where to direct your anger. <<elseif $houseN >>\ “You can say that again,” you agree. “It feels strange, doesn't it?” she echoes cheekily. You grin, “cute.” “That should've been my middle name,” she says. “Cyra isn't that bad. It means... what did you tell me it meant?” you ask. “Sun... or throne... or lord,” she sighs. “Your middle name is kind of the same.” You grimace. “Cairo. It sounds kind of pretentious.” “Yes. At least I don't have your middle name, so there's that,” she jests. “Hey!“ you chuck a pillow at her. She grabs it and throws it back to you, it hits you in the face and both of you watch as it falls to the floor. You both look up at each other and laugh. <<elseif $naurN >>\ The silence stretches on for a while. The ticking of your wristwatch reminds you how painfully slow the minutes are passing by. Nia blinks slowly at the fire. She hasn't bothered to ask you why you're here. You wonder why she hasn't kicked you out. You begin to think it'll be like this for the rest of the time you have left before Imre knocks on the door when she interrupts your silence. <</if>> Nia looks at the small clock on the mantle, below the painting of the swan. “Dinner is still going to take a while and since you're obviously stalling for some reason I think we should do something.” Your eyebrows rise. “You think I'm stalling?” She throws you a look, “I //know// you're stalling.” At your stunned look she replies, “you're surprisingly easy to read. Maybe I just never stopped knowing you.” Instead of responding to that you decide to... <hr>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] * [[Ask her to do your nails.|Page 345**][$nails to true]] * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]] * [[Do nothing.|Page 345-N][$naut to true]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I know you don't like it—“ “Then why are you asking?” she interjects. You shrug, “you asked me. Unless you have any better ideas?” She rolls her eyes, landing on the piano at the corner. She looks like she smells decay. Even so, she gets up, her feet go pitter-patter on the floor. She brings a finger to the part of the piano you once heard her call a fallboard. Swiping along the dark material, she lifts her finger up and grimaces. Rubbing her fingers together she hoists up the fallboard and sits down on the bench. She rolls her sleeves up, exposing her toned smooth arms. She slowly touches a key, the sound comes out a bit high-pitched. Nia sighs, “it's out of tune.” “Can you still play like that?” you ask. “Course I can. It'll just sound shittier than it should. Also, I haven't played in a while so don't expect Bach,” she states, hard eyes focused on the keys. A ghost of a smile is on your face. “You don't have to, you know.” “It's just a stupid piano,” she says in a low tone, perhaps to herself. She softly touches a key. You can see she wants to flinch, as if she expects the keys to hurt her. She inhales and presses down on another key. It sounds deep, like yelling into a dark cave. The next key comes quicker. It's weak, a baby bird crying for its mother. The next is more pronounced, a lively chirp. She goes faster now, her thin fingers gliding over the keys as if it were butter. The song sounds familiar but you don't remember from where you heard it from. Her gaze is agressive, her eyes barely blinking as she looks down at her hands. She presses hard on the keys, sometimes pausing in awkward places. You can feel the anger there. She goes on like this, attacking the song. It sounds so angry but at the same time her skill is evident. Pleasure and pain. You stay where you are, watching her from across the room until she pushes the bench back, slams the fallboard down and gets up. Looking at you, she asks, “no applause?” “I don't know. Would it piss you off even more?” She dusts her hands off, “probably, but I did great.” You smile softly as she haughtily walks back to the chair, sitting on it as if she were in a photoshoot. <hr>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $nails>>\ * ==Ask her to do your nails.== <<elseif not $nails>>\ * [[Ask her to do your nails.|Page 345**][$nails to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess>>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.== <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]] <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $niacall>>\ You two eat for a while. The scrap of the cutlery on the porcelain making you wince sometimes. Nia chews quickly, like someone's about to take her food. Somehow, she doesn't look ridiculous. She lifts her wine glass to her lips but before she takes a sip she asks abruptly, “why did you go into the morgue?” You chew slowly, trying to figure out a way to answer. “Why does it matter?” She takes a short sip and looks at you over the rim. “Because I had to come and help you out. I should at least know why I did.” <<elseif not $niacall>>\ You two eat for a while. The scrap of the cutlery on the porcelain making you wince sometimes. Nia chews quickly, like someone's about to take her food. Somehow, she doesn't look ridiculous. She lifts her wine glass to her lips but before she takes a sip she asks abruptly, “why did you go into the morgue?” You chew slowly, trying to figure out a way to answer. “Why does it matter?” She takes a short sip and looks at you over the rim. “Because I hadn't shown up Doctor Forester would've called the police. For saving your ass I deserve something.” <</if>> You play around with your food. “Didn't you say that you wanted nothing to do with this whole thing?” “Yeah I did. But when it enroaches in my things, it would be really stupid if I wasn't aware of things. You do know they have cameras down there?” she asks with a serious look. “Uh, I did think that far ahead,” you admit. “Clearly. They're gone. Accidentally wiped but I won't put my ass on the line like that again,” she warns. “You won't have to,” you reply. “With you? It seems like I am.” You throw her a look. “That means...?” “Cindy,” she says, dragging out the name. “And who's that?” She looks expressionless as she responds, “the girl who tripped you on the first day of school.” Oh. Pink Mary-Janes.<<if $lasagna >> You take a bite from your lasagna.<<elseif $soup >> You slurp your soup.<<elseif $salad >> You take a bite from your salad.<</if>> “Why did you do?” you ask suspiciously. Nia smiles entirely pleased with herself, “she didn't bother you again right? She learned her lesson.” You stare at her and she just continues eating as if she said nothing. Of course. You know how petty she can be. But she did this for you. <hr>\ * [[“Thank you.”|Page 349][$thanks to true]] * [[“You shouldn't have done that.”|Page 349][$pecad to true]] * [[You don't say anything.|Page 349][$nup to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $thanks>>\ “I... thank you, Nia,” you say sincerely. She puts a lock of her hair behind her ear. “If you start crying, I will escort you out.” You snort, shaking your head as you look down at your food. <<elseif $pecad>>\ “It wasn't right,” you claim. She scoffs, “what do you mean 'not right?'“ You sigh, shaking your head as you try to articulate what you mean. “I didn't want that to happen to her. I don't like revenge. I don't like the idea of hurting people just because they hurt me.” Nia frowns, taking a long gulp of her wine. After she sets it down and wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin she says, “what's done is done. You can pray for forgiveness if you want or be her personal servant.” “That's not the point,” you whisper. <<elseif $nup>>\ You look down at your food. Not knowing what to say. You didn't think she would avenge you like that. You hadn't even thought about that girl in weeks. Do you say 'thank you' when someone hurts others for you? What does that say about you? Nia looks at you, seeming to hear your thoughts. But she doesn't vocalize what she's thinking either. <</if>> The pink Mary Jane girl gets you to remember something else. “How did you get that picture of James Hewitt?” She looks at you, her expression inscrutable. “His dick picture?” “Did you go into the boy's locker room yourself or did you get someone else to do it?” you ask. She looks puzzled as you finish asking. “Birdie that wasn't m—“ A maid comes in, one of the ones who set the table. Her hands are clasped behind her straight back. Nia raises her eyebrow and the maid says, “Imre Duran and friend are asking to come in, Miss.” Nia glances at you while you check your watch. Jesus, it's been two hours. “Let them in,” Nia commands. The maid nods and goes, leaving you two alone for a brief moment before you're interrupted. “So this is why you're here? Not to see me but for Imre,” she states, wiping her mouth and throwing it on the plate. You almost think she sounds hurt. “Nia—“ “Nice to see you two getting along,” Imre chimes in, walking into the room with his coat draped over his arm. “Good evening, querida,” he goes to Nia and kisses her on the cheek. Lorcan shrugs off his wet jacket and throws it on the back of a chair. He plops down on a seat and leans the chair back. Nia glowers at him. “Like a rat you always make yourself at home,” she snaps. Lorcan gives her the finger while smiling. “Don't be a shit host.” Imre sits down in the chair nearest to her. Nia plants both of her hands on the table, or well... more like slams. “What is everyone //doing// here?” Imre takes out the newspaper from under his arm and gently puts it in front of Nia. Nia's eyebrows raise as she sees the picture on the front page. You've never seen her so surprised. “Querida. We've found that in our investigation, your mother's name. We don't know exactly where she fits into all of this but maybe she left something behind. Something here,” he says softly, more gently than you've ever heard him speak to anyone. “Did you know your mother was an outsider?” Imre prods, a compassionate expression on his face. Nia icily looks up from the newspaper. She directs the full force of her winter wrath on Imre as she asks, “you sent Birdie here to butter me up then? You're going to trample all over my fucking life for your little pet project?” <hr>\ * [[“Nia that wasn't my intention.”|Page 350]] * [[“Nia this isn't personal.”|Page 350]] * [[“Nia just answer the fucking question.”|Page 350]] </h3>

<h3>“Nia—“ Nia slams the newspaper down and begins to read loudly, her voice steely. “Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind,” she recounts. “Querida, we already read it,” Imre admits. “Well I haven't //querido// so shut up and let me read,” she commands with a bite. If Imre is offended by her tone he doesn't show it, his face a mask of understanding. Her eyes quickly skim over the text, her breathing becoming heavier, pushing against the yellowed paper. Her nails grip the sides of it, creating more wrinkles as her hands start clutching tighter and tighter. Her fingers grip the paper so strongly her hands start shaking. Abruptly she slams the newspaper down, her eyes looking at it as if it did something horrible to her. “Nia?” Imre ventures. “My m- that woman was sick. She lost her mind by the end. My dad did everything he could to help her but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. She's not a part of this big conspiracy you have going on Imre. She's not a piece on your chessboard. You know she would say that she saw things in the woods? Beckoning her? People that she knew. People that were dead. That's what she said. She was a sick lady who left me when I was a kid and probably lives on the streets now or is dead but either way, good riddance.” She says all of this while not taking her eyes off the newspaper. When you shift your weight from one foot to the other her eyes dart up to you. “I expected something like this from Imre. Even Lorcan because he's a dick. But you? Using my mom to get to me? You would do this to me knowing what this means to me?” she says, her voice gravelly. [[NEXT->Page 351]] </h3>

<h3><<if $meN >>\ “No one's forcing a gun to my head to do anything,” you claim. “That's even worse,” Nia states. <<elseif $yellN >>\ “I'm the one putting myself in danger, ok?” you admit. “Like that makes it any better,” Nia states. <<elseif $hereN >>\ “I'm not chopped liver or a kid,” you state. “No, you're not. You're worse, you're a person who has no sense of self-preservation,” Nia says. <</if>> “Since when did you start caring if I lived or died?” you ask, your voice rising. “I never stopped!“ she exclaims. You laugh incredulously, “well you have a pretty funny way of showing it!“ “Ok, I don't want to be the adult here but maybe you guys should calm down—“ Lorcan interjects. “Shut up,” you and Nia say in unison. Lorcan raises his hands in surrender. Nia scowls at you, “you have no idea about anything at all.” “That's because you don't tell me! Why do you care if I'm helping Imre? It'll probably be easier for you if I died so you wouldn't have me around reminding you of the shitty thing you did!“ “I don't want you to die why don't you get it?!“ Nia screams. [[NEXT->Page 353]] </h3>

<h3>“Nia,” Imre says with a tone of warning. Nia looks at him, her chest rising and falling. Imre gestures to the other side of the room, where you are. Nia looks and you think they're looking at you. “What do we have here? Nia, you didn't tell me we had guests,” Dr. Mir's cool voice comes from behind you. You turn around and see him just as he's always been. Time hasn't changed anything. Not even his hairstyle which he keeps slicked back. His brown skin compliments his dark blue suit nicely. He barely has any wrinkles on his face. Nia always hated how women in town or the nurses would fawn over him. Nia clasps her hands together, her back upright and her expression empty. “It was a last minute thing, but they're leaving now,” she says, the clear dismissal in her voice. “Is that so?” he says, walking over to where Imre and his daughter are. His gaze passes right over Lorcan. Clasping Imre on the shoulder he says, “it's good to see you Imre. You've been missed around the house.” Imre smiles up brilliantly at Mr. Mir. “And I've missed being here,” he replies smoothly. “How's the hospital? With oncoming flu season I'm guessing a lot of tedious patients with colds.” Mr. Mir smiles, or at least you think that's what that is. It seems too stretched to be a smile. “You should come by some time, the children have been asking for you.” Imre nods placatingly, “my studies have kept me busy.” Mr. Mir smiles in response. His smile fades slightly as he looks at Nia. She grips her hands together tighter. “Father, look aren't you going to say 'hi'?” Nia gestures to you and Mr. Mir looks utterly perplexed as he looks at you. His face doesn't change for a good moment before you see the recognition in his eyes. He walks over to you, hand outstretched. As you take it, his hand squeezes yours painfully. “It's nice seeing you again. I was wondering when Nia would bring you along,” he says with a tone that is not as jovial as it was with Imre. “Hey, Mr. Mir,” you reply without much excitement. His hand still grips yours. His eyes are as unrelenting as Nia's. But unlike hers, his eyes on you always made you feel queasy. You hated when he was around. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He would linger. Looking at you far too long for no reason. His touches on your shoulders would last a bit too long for comfort. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He would linger when Nia had her girl friends here. Looking at them for no reason. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He would linger when Nia had her girl friends here. Looking at them for no reason. He also didn't look too pleased when Nia would put makeup on you. He had a talk with your parents about that, <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He would linger. Looking at you far too long for no reason. His touches on your shoulders would last a bit too long for comfort. Told you that girls shouldn't be wearing baggy clothing. That they had a body for a reason. You never told Nia that. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He would linger. Looking at you far too long for no reason. His touches on your shoulders would last a bit too long for comfort. Told that girls should wear tighter clothing. That they had a body for a reason. You never told Nia that. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He would linger when Nia had her girl friends here. Looking at them for no reason. <</if>> “Are you sure you can't stay for dinner?” he asks, that question directed to Imre who gets up and puts on his coat. “No, my father is expecting me and I have to drive these two home,” Imre states. “Well, that's a shame. Next time,” Mr. Mir suggests and gives your hand one more squeeze before letting go. Lorcan comes to stand by you, he looks as weirded out as you feel. Imre shakes hands with Mr. Mir, promises of future talks between them. Nia hasn't moved an inch, standing by the head of the table. You notice the newspaper isn't on the table anymore. Mr. Mir snakes an arm around her shoulders and her smile is easily seen as forced. Imre comes over to you, an apologetic smile for who-knows-what. “Come,” he instructs. Lorcan says a silent 'yes' and walks out of the room. You make to follow but something has you looking over your shoulder. Nia is already looking at you, her father saying something to her she's not paying attention to. <hr>\ * [[“Think about it.”|Page 354]] * [[You give her a meaningful look.|Page 354]] * [[You don't do anything.|Page 354]] </h3>

<h3>You look away before she does. You trail behind the boys, the rain still coming down as hard as it was when you got here. When you slip into the passenger seat you see Imre twisting the knob for the radio. When you turn to look at him you're surprised to see a pleased look on his face. “Did you interpret that differently than I did? 'Cause I'm pretty sure we failed.” “What?” Lorcan asks from the back. Imre shakes his head slowly, a winning smile on his lips. “I wouldn't start playing the song of our defeat, just yet.” As he pulls away from the curb he says, “she kept the newspaper.” [[NEXT->Page 355]] </h3>

<h3>Sally thinks about this for a moment then answers, “Father never did. Mother did but only once, it was one of those times Nia,” he shoots an apologetic glance at you, “came over.” “And?” Imre prompts. “She just said that she was looking more like her mother every day. From what I understand Mother and Mrs. Mir were friends, so she must be less inclined to talk about her,” Sally concludes. “So that was true,” Imre says. “Why wouldn't it be?” you ask. “What are you talking about? Why would I lie?” Sally asks. “It's not about you but your weirdo chaffer,” Lorcan rolls his eyes. Imre's eye twitches, “yes your //chauffeur// said something to that effect.” A brief look of something passes across Sally's face, but it's gone just as quickly. <hr>\ * [[“What do you know about Yasmine?”|Page 334-QD][$salQ2 to true]] * [[“Did anyone look for Yasmine?”|Page 334-QE][$salQ3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $imren>>\ He mock salutes you. “As you say, captain, my captain.” Before you have the chance to flip him off he's already slipping inside. Lorcan takes out a pack of smokes, his eyes watching you go back and forth with an apprehensive look. Tapping a cigarette on his hand he brings it to his mouth and before he can light it he mumbles in between it, “want one?” You stop pacing angrily and ask in a snippy voice, “what?” He huffs and takes out a cigarette. Holding it out to you in between his thumb and finger he asks, “are ya going to take it or not? My fingers are cold as shit.” “Shit isn't cold,” you comment. Lorcan narrows his eyes. “Do you want it or not for fuck's sake?” You... <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Page 336*][$cigl to true]] * [[Decline.|Page 336*-S][$cign to true]] <<elseif $lorcann>>\ Lorcan scoffs, “and who the hell are you to tell me to do anything?” You stop pacing. Seething you reply, “I'm the person that's going to kick my foot up your ass if you don't get that newspaper.” Imre looks down and smiles. Scowling, Lorcan takes out a coin from his pocket and throws it at your chest. “Go fucking buy one then.” It slides down into your shirt and you take a step in his direction but Imre puts himself in between you two. With an expression that looks as if he's having way too much fun Imre holds up his hands and says placatingly, “as much as I would love to be witness to whatever you have planned. We're on a time crunch and this isn't the ideal spot for it.” You exhale through your nostrils, your teeth grinding. Still, you take a step back and look away, crossing your arms like a child that's just been told 'no.' Imre moves his head to the side, not really looking at Lorcan but indicating he's directing his next words at him. “The sooner we get it, the sooner you can leave our presence.” Lorcan groans, pulling up the lapels of his jacket he marches to the door, mumbling, “have to do all the shit myself.” Once he's back inside, Imre glances at you and slowly walks over. He... <hr>\ * [[Lifts your chin.|Page 336**][$chinl to true]] * [[Say, “Look at me.”|Page 336**-L][$telll to true]] * [[Squeezes your shoulder.|Page 336**-H][$shou to true]] * [[Says nothing.|Page 336**-N][$Nothingl to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Sally ponders this and moves to the other side of his desk. He pulls on a drawer and rummages through it. Finally, he pulls out some yellowed, wrinkly paper and holds it up to read. He hums and closes the drawer. He hands you the paper and you realize it's a newspaper, an old one at that. The headline reads: 'DOCTOR'S DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT.' “I don't know much about her, but there must be something in there that can help you with Nia,” he says helpfully. Imre holds out his hand and you give him the newspaper, he folds it under his arm and says to you, “we'll be waiting outside.” He nods to Sally, “Salvatore,” and walks away. Lorcan says briskly, “uh, bye,” and follows Imre. Once alone Sally asks, “are you sure you're not getting into trouble with those two?” You laugh goodnaturedly, “I'm perfectly fine.” “With Imre I don't doubt it but Lorcan... he has a reputation,” he states. “So do I, does it mean mine's true?” you ask. Sally's eyes widen and he shakes his head, “no, no, no. Of course not! You're perfect as you are.” He comes over to you and squeezes your shoulders. “You're right. I shouldn't judge based off rumours.” You smile. <hr>\ * [[Kiss his cheek.|Page 335][$cheeks to true]] * [[Give him a quick hug.|Page 335][$hugss to true]] * [[Say 'bye'.|Page 335][$quickb to true]] </h3>

<h3>Sally pulls on his ear and slowly says, “I don't like speaking ill of the dead...” “They can't hear shit anyway,” Lorcan scoffs low enough for only you to hear. “You think she's dead?” you inquire. Sally nods solemnly. “It's been years and she was not all that there anymore, you know,” he points to his forehead, “it'd be surprised if she were still alive.” “Did you ever see anything that confirmed to you she was mentally ill?” Imre chimes in. You scowl, he always does this. “Uh, well, no. But Dr. Mir said it. She was committed once by him and I do remember the kids at school playing a game where they would go to Dr. Mir's home and ring the doorbell, run across the street and wait to see if 'kooky Mrs. Mir' would come out,” he explains. Imre snorts derisively, looking away. <hr>\ <<if $salQ1>>\ * ==“Did mother or father ever say anything about Yasmine?”== <<elseif not $salQ1>>\ * [[“Did mother or father ever say anything about Yasmine?”|Page 334-Q][$salQ1 to true]] <</if>>\ * [[“Did anyone look for Yasmine?”|Page 334-QE][$salQ3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $spit >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch and you quickly pull back. Lorcan blinks, staring at his outstretched empty fingers. He shakes his head and lights his cigarette. You said that you weren't going to spend more time alone with him and this is the first thing you do. It's Sally's fault for pissing you off. <<elseif $throwl >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch and you quickly pull back. Lorcan blinks, staring at his outstretched empty fingers. He shakes his head and lights his cigarette. You said that you weren't going to spend more time alone with him and this is the first thing you do. It's Sally's fault for pissing you off. <<elseif $simp >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch but neither of you recoil. It's normal. Lorcan lights his cigarette. <<elseif $changes >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch but neither of you recoil. It's normal. Lorcan lights his cigarette. <<elseif $closery >>\ You take it from him. The tips of your fingers touch and you nearly drop the cigarette from the sensation. Lorcan pulls his hand back, putting it into his pocket. He doesn't look at you as he lights his cigarette. <<elseif $closern >>\ You take it from him. The tips of your fingers touch and you nearly drop the cigarette from the sensation. Lorcan pulls his hand back, putting it into his pocket. He doesn't look at you as he lights his cigarette. <<elseif $yept >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch but neither of you recoil. It's normal. Lorcan lights his cigarette. <<elseif $nopee >>\ You take it from him. Your fingers briefly touch but neither of you recoil. It's normal. Lorcan lights his cigarette. <<elseif $naurO >>\ You take it from him, deciding that your anger at Sally is stronger at this moment than your general dislike of Lorcan. He lights his cigarette. <</if>> He offers you his lighter. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You decline, taking out your own. Lighting it up, you and Lorcan smoke side by side, leaning on Imre's car as you wait in companionable silence. <<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>>\ You take it and cup it with your hand as you light it. You inhale for a second before coughing. You hand him back the lighter and he smirks as he watches you cough. “Jesus,” you complain as you suck breaths of air. “You inhaled too much and too fast Crowny,” he states. You swallow a few times to hydrate your sore throat. You inhale a second time which is less perilous. You and Lorcan smoke side by side, leaning on Imre's car as you wait in companionable silence. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 337*]] </h3>

<h3>With his finger he touches your cheek, gently moving your face to meet his. He brings your eyes up and looks into them with his own dark blue ones. A quiet smile adorns his face. “It might not feel like it but you did a good thing.” “You're right,” you affirm. “It doesn't feel like it.” Imre's smile widens, “you can't let him dictate everything or he always will. Is that living?” You look away from his intense and unflinching gaze. “Or is that what you want?” You don't know how to respond. <<if $handl >>\ His glove-covered finger brushes along your chin, your skin alights with small buzzes as he creates a trail down to your throat, pressing gently against the bone there. “Se me olvida lo frágil que puedes ser,” he murmers. You look at him as he seems mesmerized by your skin. Suddenly he lets his hand fall and gives you a dazed smile. <<elseif $handnol >>\ His glove-covered finger brushes along your chin, your skin alights with small buzzes as he creates a trail down to your throat, pressing gently against the bone there. “Se me olvida lo frágil que puedes ser,” he murmers. You look at him as he seems mesmerized by your skin. Suddenly he lets his hand fall and gives you a dazed smile. <<elseif $kissy >>\ His glove-covered finger brushes along your chin, your skin alights with small buzzes as he creates a trail down to your throat, pressing gently against the bone there. You intake a small breath of air as his finger trails down to your collarbone. He traces the delicate bones there, too. “Que fácil sería destruirte, ni siquiera me lo pelearías tanto,” he whispers. You're so entranced by his touch that the words you promised to yourself last night come like a cold bucket of water. You move back and say sternly, “don't touch me.” Imre drops his hand and smiles enigmatically, “as you //desire//.” <<elseif $kissyi >>\ His glove-covered finger brushes along your chin, your skin alights with small buzzes as he creates a trail down to your throat, pressing gently against the bone there. You intake a small breath of air as his finger trails down to your collarbone. He traces the delicate bones there, too. “Que fácil sería destruirte, ni siquiera me lo pelearías tanto,” he whispers. You're so entranced by his touch that the words you promised to yourself last night come like a cold bucket of water. You move back and say sternly, “don't touch me.” Imre drops his hand and smiles enigmatically, “as you //desire//.” <<elseif $clothesC >>\ He drops his hand and apologizes, “I'm sorry for being so reckless with physical contact. It's just my way of attempting to comfort you.” You give him a feeble smile, “it's appreciated.” He offers you a friendly smile. <<elseif $naurC >>\ You move his hand away and say stonily, “I don't like being touched, don't do that again.” Imre nods and steps back, “of course, I apologize.” You don't answer, instead opting to look away and press your mouth into a firm line. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 337**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ “Don't you smoke?” You nod. “Yeah but I'm too pissed and my brother will come out here and kill me if he sees me smoking.” Lorcan snorts but puts away the cigarette. He lights his own. You two sit, side by side on Imre's car in companionable silence. <<elseif $vice is not 'smoking'>>\ “I've never done it before and I don't really wanna start,” you explain. Lorcan scoffs, “what? Afraid of cancer?” You furrow your eyebrows, “uh, yeah? Among other things. My brother will come out here and kill me if he sees me smoking.” Lorcan snorts but puts away the cigarette. He lights his own. You two sit, side by side on Imre's car in companionable silence. <</if>> <<if $spit >>\ Great, you told yourself just last night that you'll avoid being alone with him and that's the first thing you do. You just pray that Imre will be back soon. You make sure to scoot over slightly so as to not 'accidentally' graze him. Lorcan doesn't even look your way. <<elseif $throwl >>\ Great, you told yourself just last night that you'll avoid being alone with him and that's the first thing you do. You just pray that Imre will be back soon. You make sure to scoot over slightly so as to not 'accidentally' graze him. Lorcan doesn't even look your way. <<elseif $simp >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. <<elseif $changes >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. <<elseif $closery >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. He calms you. Occasionally your arms touch and you smile to yourself when he doesn't move away. <<elseif $closern >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. He calms you. Occasionally your arms touch and you smile to yourself when he doesn't move away. <<elseif $yept >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. <<elseif $nopee >>\ You find that you like sitting her with Lorcan and not talking. It does your overall bad mood much good. <<elseif $naurO >>\ As much as you loathe him, being here with him is preferable than being next to Sally. So... the lesser of two evils. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 337*]] </h3>

<h3>You press your mouth closed, tightly and refuse to. <<if $tname>>“Look at me, $tname,” he says sternly.<<else>>“Look at me, $name,” he says sternly.<</if>> Almost reluctantly and definitely pouty you look at him. His dark blue eyes penetrate yours and you have the need to look away but you hold still. “You did what you had to. Sometimes we must be harsh to command respect, never forget that,” he advises. <<if $handl>>\ You look into his eyes, barely blinking, not wanting to miss the force of their brilliance. And for a few seconds it's just that. You two, close enough to kiss if you wanted, looking into each other's eyes. “No sería nada difícil mirarte toda la vida, sabes?” he murmers. You give him a confused look but he simply smiles vaguely and steps back. <<elseif $handnol>>\ You look into his eyes, barely blinking, not wanting to miss the force of their brilliance. And for a few seconds it's just that. You two, close enough to kiss if you wanted, looking into each other's eyes. “No sería nada difícil mirarte toda la vida, sabes?” he murmers. You give him a confused look but he simply smiles vaguely and steps back. <<elseif $kissy>>\ You look into his eyes, barely blinking, not wanting to miss the force of their brilliance. Not wanting to have him see you give up first. And for a few seconds it's just that. You two, close enough to kiss if you wanted, looking into each other's eyes. //Kiss again.// “Estás volviendo todo mas difícil de lo que pense,” he whispers. You take a step back, he blinks, as if confused as to your movement. “Personal space, Duran. Ever heard of it?” Imre chuckles, “it didn't bother you yes—“ you scowl and his smile turns smug. “Nevermind.” <<elseif $kissyi>>\ You look into his eyes, barely blinking, not wanting to miss the force of their brilliance. Not wanting to have him see you give up first. And for a few seconds it's just that. You two, close enough to kiss if you wanted, looking into each other's eyes. //Kiss again.// “Estás volviendo todo mas difícil de lo que pense,” he whispers. You take a step back, he blinks, as if confused as to your movement. “Personal space, Duran. Ever heard of it?” Imre chuckles, “you weren't so bothered yes—“ you scowl and his smile turns smug. “Nevermind.” <<elseif $clothesC >>\ You nod, sighing, “it's not so easy for me with him.” Imre grimaces slightly, “I can tell but the more you do it the easier it'll be, trust me.” “Maybe I should practice being a dick to you,” you retort. Imre laughs, “I go you free reign.” <<elseif $naurC >>\ You move away, “can you just like not invade my personal space so damn much?” Imre looks momentarily irritated but he answers a even-toned as he can, “apologizes.” <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 337**]] </h3>

<h3>After about thirty seconds of this you raise an eyebrow and ask, “what?” “Oh, nothing. I just thought that keeping you company would lessen your anger,” he explains. “It's just weirding me out,” you reply. He leans back against his car. “Oh, well. It was worth a try,” he shrugs. Still giving him a skeptical look you stand there there with your arms crossed, glaring at the door. [[NEXT->Page 337**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $cigl >>\ You two almost finished your cigarettes when the door opens and Imre strides out with the newspaper tucked under his arm. You take one final puff before throwing it on the ground and putting it out. Lorcan continues smoking. <<elseif $cign >>\ Lorcan is almost finished with his cigarette when the door opens and Imre strides out with the newspaper tucked under his arm. Lorcan continues smoking. <</if>> You ask, “what took you so long?” Imre smiles and hands you the newspaper, “I didn't know I was being timed.” “It's just that usually you can easily charm people out of anything,” you reply. “You mean lie to them,” Lorcan remarks. Imre ignores that and says, “we got to talking about the business if you can imagine. Stimulating conversation.” You can't tell if he's being facetious or not. <<if $tname>>“Read it quickly, $tname. I feel it's about to rain.”<<else>>“Read it quickly, $name. I feel it's about to rain.”<</if>> You lean on Imre's car, both of the boys crowd around you as you begin reading. “Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind. Some residents have already made their opinions on the matter known. Miss Kinglsey, who lives on White Street says: //“she was a weird one. Going around and talking to herself. I always knew something was going to happen and it did.”//“ “I know her, big mouth bitch,” Lorcan chimes in. “Mrs. Mir came to this fair town in 1974. She and Dr. Mir met while he was vacationing and it was love at first sight. Many residents — particularly of the female persuasion — were devastated when the eligible bachelor came back with a wedding ring. Mrs. Mir was said to be an academic, specializing in ancient languages. Us at the Crown Daily and the rest of the town hope for her safe return.” Imre rubs his chin and looks vacant at a spot on the ground. You fold the newspaper, shoving it into your coat as the wind picks up and makes the tiny droplets of oncoming rain hit your face. “So, what do you think?” you ask Imre. He hums and stands up. He doesn't look at either of you, saying, “it seems Yasmine Mir is much more interesting than we thought.” [[NEXT->Page 337]] </h3>

<h3>Just then Lorcan throws the door open and steps out. He walks over to you and presses the newspaper to your chest. You hold it as he goes over to the car and leans on it. Answering your inquisitive look he says, “at first he got annoyed. Then he looked away to get some shit I pushed off the table and I got it.” You scoff, “it was really that easy?” Lorcan grins mockingly, “for me. For your useless ass probably not.” You both flip each other off and Imre just looks over it. “Read it quickly, $name. I feel it's about to rain.” You lean on Imre's car, both of the boys crowd around you as you begin reading. “Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind. Some residents have already made their opinions on the matter known. Miss Kinglsey, who lives on White Street says: //“she was a weird one. Going around and talking to herself. I always knew something was going to happen and it did.”//“ “I know her, big mouth bitch,” Lorcan chimes in. “Mrs. Mir came to this fair town in 1974. She and Dr. Mir met while he was vacationing and it was love at first sight. Many residents — particularly of the female persuasion — were devastated when the eligible bachelor came back with a wedding ring. Mrs. Mir was said to be an academic, specializing in ancient languages. Us at the Crown Daily and the rest of the town hope for her safe return.” Imre rubs his chin and looks vacant at a spot on the ground. You fold the newspaper, shoving it into your coat as the wind picks up and makes the tiny droplets of oncoming rain hit your face. “So, what do you think?” you ask Imre. He hums and stands up. He doesn't look at either of you, saying, “it seems Yasmine Mir is much more interesting than we thought.” [[NEXT->Page 337]] </h3>

<h3>“That's it?” Lorcan asks with a grimace. Imre snorts, “what else do you want me to say? I don't have a magic ball to tell me all the answers. That's why—“ he checks his watch, “we should be going now.” He walks over to the driver's side, getting in before opening the doors for you. You get in and put on your seatbelt just as the rain begins pouring down on the windshield. As Imre pulls away from the curb you think you see someone peeking out from the blinds of the office. But it's too rainy to tell. [[NEXT->Page 338]] </h3>

<h3>The cold air of the wind is much more shocking now as the front door of the building closes behind you. Imre is leaning on his car, slowly putting on his gloves. Lorcan is smoking a few feet away, the cigarette nearly half way done. You show Imre the newspaper and he says, “I thought he would have surely dragged you out by your ear.” You roll your eyes, “let me just read the damn thing.” You lean on Imre's car, both of the boys crowd around you as you begin reading. “Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind. Some residents have already made their opinions on the matter known. Miss Kinglsey, who lives on White Street says: //“she was a weird one. Going around and talking to herself. I always knew something was going to happen and it did.”//“ “I know her, big mouth bitch,” Lorcan chimes in. “Mrs. Mir came to this fair town in 1974. She and Dr. Mir met while he was vacationing and it was love at first sight. Many residents — particularly of the female persuasion — were devastated when the eligible bachelor came back with a wedding ring. Mrs. Mir was said to be an academic, specializing in ancient languages. Us at the Crown Daily and the rest of the town hope for her safe return.” Imre rubs his chin and looks vacant at a spot on the ground. You fold the newspaper, shoving it into your coat as the wind picks up and makes the tiny droplets of oncoming rain hit your face. “So, what do you think?” you ask Imre. He hums and stands up. He doesn't look at either of you, saying, “it seems Yasmine Mir is much more interesting than we thought.” [[NEXT->Page 337]] </h3>

<h3>The hard and frantic clanging of metal on metal interrupts a conversation you and Nia were having about the possibility of having to Noah's Ark out of the town with this rain. Nia looks to the door and answers your confused look, “the bell is new. Dinner's ready.” You follow her as she exits the parlor room. You go to a set of double doors you think — from all the times you came here — leads to the dining room. Nia throws the doors open and walks past most of the dining chairs. You stop near the head of the table closest to the door. Placing your hands on the top of the headrest you watch as the maids, who came from god-knows-where, begin pouring red liquid into the wine glasses. The table seats twelve. It's covered in a soft linen and atop it is the silver cutlery and porcelain plates. Above the table, hangs a chandelier adorned with onyx-colored crystals. The walls each have a giant painting that is a continous scene of a hunt. The first one, behind the other side of the table shows a deer. The one next to it is the deer again with a pair of hunters creeping from the woods. The one nearest to you is the chase, the fear in the deer's eyes is palpable, it's staring directly at you. The final scene is that of the hunters standing over the bleeding, massacred body of the deer, their boots pressing into its corpse. Nia follows your eyes and snarks, “really sets the tone. Thank god we're not vegans.” She sits down at the other end and you choose to sit directly opposite her. A lengthy space in between. You observe her as she takes her napkin and folds it on her lap. <<if $niceN>>\ She looks like the lady of the house. Regal yet dominating. You're transfixed as she sets her cutlery and swishes her wine glass around. [[NEXT->Page 347-N]] <<elseif $bitchN >>\ She looks like the lady of the house. Regal yet dominating. You're transfixed as she sets her cutlery and swishes her wine glass around. [[NEXT->Page 347-B]] <<elseif $houseN>>\ She looks like the lady of the house. Regal yet dominating. It feels like no time has passed at all. You feel comfortable now. [[NEXT->Page 347-H]] <<elseif $naurN>>\ [[NEXT->Page 347-H]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I have to say something,” you announce. She looks at you, her face passive. “Sounds serious.” “It kind of is, at least for me,” you explain. She gestures for you to go on. “I don't... know if you noticed this from years ago but I'm not... fuck... I don't know how to say it,” you groan. “Usually you say things by saying them, Birdie,” she deadpans. <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Well, I'm a girl and I've kind of always been a girl,” you state. You peek at her from under your eyelashes. Her face remains the same. “I knew that,” she claims. You give her a questioning look, “since when?” She shrugs a shoulder, “basically since puberty. You were always so into wearing my clothes.” “Oh.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Well, I'm a boy and I've kind of always been a boy,” you state. You peek at her from under your eyelashes. Her face remains the same. “I knew that,” she claims. You give her a questioning look, “since when?” She shrugs a shoulder, “basically since puberty. You always looked so weirded out by dresses.” “Oh.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Well, I'm a person and I don't know how to get you to understand it but I'm not a girl I don't want to be called that,” you state. You peek at her from under your eyelashes. Her face remains the same. “I guessed it was something like that,” she claims. You give her a questioning look, “since when?” She shrugs a shoulder, “basically since puberty. You just never looked like you wanted to be like me or the other girls.” “Oh.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Well, I'm a person and I don't know how to get you to understand it but I'm not a boy I don't want to be called that,” you state. You peek at her from under your eyelashes. Her face remains the same. “I guessed it was something like that,” she claims. You give her a questioning look, “since when?” She shrugs a shoulder, “basically since puberty. You just never looked like you wanted to be like the other guys.” “Oh.” <</if>> “Is that all?” she asks. You feel slightly hurt from her blase tone. This is a big deal to you. She must sense something in your expression because she opens her mouth, looking slightly surprised at your mood. “I'm glad you figured yourself out,” she says. “Really.” You nod. “Yeah, me too.” “Is your name still the same?” <<if $tname>>“No, it's $tname now.”<<else>>“Yeah, it fits.”<</if>> She nods. <hr>\ <<if $piano>>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $nails>>\ * ==Ask her to do your nails.== <<elseif not $nails>>\ * [[Ask her to do your nails.|Page 345**-P2][$nails to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess>>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.== <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]] <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] </h3>

<h3>The walk towards home feels much longer than before. Perhaps, it's because you're alone. Because it's in the middle of a rainstorm. Perhaps it's because you wouldn't be able to hear if someone were behind you. If eyes were watching you from the dark, readying to pounce on you and drag you into the dark where you would never see light again. Your body turned into something you don't recognize. The rainwater and the mud attempt to take your shoes off your feet. The tree branches aim to grip at your clothes. The air bursting through this tunnel of a pathway whisper in your ears something you can't decipher. You shake your head, trying to shake away those thoughts. It's nothing. You've just been thinking about all this way too much. You've walked this path hundreds of times in your life. Your eyes dare to glance at the spaces in between the swaying leaves of the trees. Certain branches seem to be almost like arms, swaying like limp dolls strung up as a macabre decoration. Inside the woods it's far too dark to see even for your eyes but you can't help but feel someone is staring at you from them. The hair on the back of your neck rises. You don't know where it comes from but you can see its eyes in your mind. The way its many eyes follow you, hungry, waiting. <hr>\ * [[Speed up.|Page 357][$speed to true]] * [[Keep walking.|Page 357][$slow to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <</if>> “Are you going to do it or not?” you ask exasperated. She scoffs and gets up without a word. She doesn't make any gesture for you to follow her so you stay where you are. Fingers gripping the seat. Eventually she comes back with a basket. She sits down and goes through the polishes. Without looking up she asks, “are you going to pick something?” You get up and lean down by her, almost cheek to cheek. She has a copious collection of nail polish bottles. You point to the <<cycle '$nailp' autoselect>><<option 'red'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'purple'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'pink'>><<option 'yellow'>><<option 'orange'>><<option 'white'>><<option 'clear'>><<option 'green'>><</cycle>> polish. “Ok, scoot over here, and sit still or I'll fuck this up,” she commands. You push a foot rest next to her and lay your hand on the armrest. She moves it to her lap and begins filing your nails. She's surprisingly gentle with it. She constantly stops to lift up your hand and check her work. When she gets to the polish she makes slow, deliberate swipes. Careful not to coat your skin. Each time she does a coat she tells you to blow on your nail. It takes time, at certain points she swears when she or you accidentally mess up the polish. Finally she has you blow one last time on your nails, screwing on the cap of the polish and plopping it down in the basket. “Mess those up and I'm not redoing them,” she warns. You lift your hands up into the light of the fireplace and smile. <hr>\ <<if $piano>>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess>>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.== <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]] <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“So...” “So?” she mimics. “You've been at the hospital for a while now, right?” “Obviously, why?” “Have you seen any weird or gross things?” you ask. Your mind momentarily thinks of what you saw at the morgue. She looks down at her nails. “Everyone thinks the hospital is haunted. Superstitious nonsense if you ask me.” She glances at you, and then adds, “but there are gross things. A few months ago an old man came in with beetles.” You raise an eyebrow, “what?” “Beetles,” she repeats. “Up his ass,” she grins. Your mouth falls open, “what? How?” She opens her hands. “I didn't really want to have him go into detail on his weird anal fetishes, Birdie. All I know is that they kept coming out. Dr. Taylor would take some out and then his asshole would 'quiver' and more would come out.” You let out a noise between a laugh and a gasp. “What happened to the beetles?” “We had to get an exterminator in there. Subpar job by the way, we kept finding them for weeks after,” she explains, her tone light. “I don't even know what to say,” you remark, incredulously. “And I haven't even told you about the girl and her boyfriend who came in with their genitals glued together,” she teases. You hear tales of people turning pink, runaway nipples, jean-fused legs. <hr>\ <<if $piano>>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $nails >>\ * ==Ask her to do your nails.== <<elseif not $nails>>\ * [[Ask her to do your nails.|Page 345**][$nails to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess >>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.== <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]] <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I can't think of anything and to be honest I don't want to do anything,” you say in a bored cadence. She sighs, “you were never the life of the party but you used to at least be fun.” “And you used to not be such an asshole with me,” you shoot back. She laughs. “You come knocking on my door and just sit here refusing to engage and I'm the asshole?” You place your hands down on the armrests and stand up. “You know what?” You start walking to the door of the parlor, “you're totally right. Why am I here?” You stalk to the door. Decided, firm, but not hurrying. Imre should've done this. A bell dings somewhere. You reach the door and look back to see where the sound is coming from. Nia comes out of the parlor, her face unreadable. “Dinner's ready,” she says. And on cue your stomach growls. She smirks and turns her back to you, walking to the door you think leads to the dining room. “At least get a free meal,” she suggests as she throws the double doors to the room open. You glimpse the long dining table, with its white linen, silver cutlery and porcelain plates. A set of maids being to pour dark red liquid into the glasses. You let go off the door handle. A free meal is a free meal. [[NEXT->Page 349-N]] </h3>

<h3>“I saw Sally today,” you begin. “That's not really news, Birdie. You live with him,” she retorts. “Can you just- let me talk,” you say annoyed. She smiles but inclines her head. “He kind of embarrassed me,” you confess. “How?” “By being... I don't know,” you say. “By being Sally?” she formulates it as a question but by the way she's looking into the fireplace you can tell she knows. You slowly nod. “Imre and Lorcan were there and I just felt like I was being—“ “Talked down to?” she interjects. “Ok, that's getting creepy,” you say with furrowed brow. <<if $sallyf is 'r'>>\ “So, you're finally admitting how much anger you have at him,” she states. You clasp your hands together, moving your thumb over your knuckle. “Or maybe not yet,” she says gently. <<elseif $sallyf is 'g'>>\ “Is this you finally admitting he's not so perfect?” she asks, with a curious expression. “No,” you answer quickly, so fast her eyebrows rise. “No. Sally is... he's a great brother. It's just me. I'm...,” you lift your hands up by your hand and move them around. “Teen angst.” Nia doesn't say anything but you note a small frown on her face. <<elseif $sallyf is 'd'>>\ “He's so weak, isn't he?” she asks, her voice cold. You look down, thoughts come out of the recess of your mind but you can't seem to say what you want to say. “You don't have to say it. As long as you don't try to defend him,” she offers. <<elseif $sallyf is 'l'>>\ “Is this you finally admitting he's not so perfect?” she asks, with a curious expression. “If anyone in the world is perfect, it's Sally,” you claim firmly. Nia throws you a look of exasperation but you pay it no mind. “I'm being stupid, I don't even know why I said anything, forget it.” “Course,” she says bitterly. <<elseif $sallyf is 'h'>>\ “He can be a really son of a bitch,” she attests. You don't verbalize it, for some reason your mouth can't open to say the words but she's right. Your hands tighten at the thought of how he treated you. As if you were too stupid to function. She's staring at you, hoping for something. But you just stare at the flames. <<elseif $sallyf is 'n'>>\ “You've always been pretty ambivalent about him and the way he treats you,” she affirms. “Yeah,” you say vaguely. “I guess I never really sat down and thought about how his view of me affects my life,” you admit. She nods. <</if>> She's silent for a moment, her molten honey eyes unblinking as the light of the fire reflects off of them. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks. “I don't know,” you say. “It just felt like I could.” Her eyebrows lower. She doesn't look angry or even sad. Just, conflicted. <hr>\ <<if $piano >>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $nails>>\ * ==Ask her to do your nails.== <<elseif not $nails>>\ * [[Ask her to do your nails.|Page 345**][$nails to true]] <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]]\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. Do other girls feel this way about other girls? Do they see other girls and... fantasize about holding them? You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you've never felt attraction to other girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another boy is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, she'll think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. Do other girls feel this way about other girls? Do they see other girls and... fantasize about holding them? You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you've never felt attraction to other girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. She's been with girls, you know that. But not girls that were guys. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another boy is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, she'll think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? She's been with boys, you know that. But not boys that were girls. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. Do other people with vaginas feel this way about each other? Do they see one another and... fantasize about holding them? You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you're not a girl and you've never felt attraction to girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You wish you could tell her freely. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another person is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, but you're not a boy. Still, she'll think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? <</if>> “Am I distracting you?” she asks with a playful smile. “What would you say if I said yes?” you ask, equally playful. She bites her lip and you almost melt into the seat. “I think for statements like that it's best to cheer,” she holds up her drink. “To almost compliments.” You lift up your drink, “you didn't give me an almost compliment.” She laughs. “You could, probably, be said by some to be pleasant to look at.” You laugh too. “Cheers.” Just as you set your glass down the maids come in with the food. [[NEXT->Page 348]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. Do other girls feel this way about other girls? Do they see other girls and... fantasize about holding them. You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you've never felt attraction to other girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another boy is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, she'll think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. Do other girls feel this way about other girls? Do they see other girls and... fantasize about holding them? You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you've never felt attraction to other girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. She's been with girls, you know that. But not girls that were guys. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another boy is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, she'll think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? She's been with boys, you know that. But not boys that were girls. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. Do other people with vaginas feel this way about each other? Do they see one another and... fantasize about holding them? You know about girls being with other girls. Lesbians. But you're not a girl and you've never felt attraction to girls before. You've thought they were pretty but not like Nia. Never like Nia. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You imagine what her skin would feel like beneath yours. You've touched her before. But there's a way she looks now that makes her seem so beautiful it aches. You'd never tell her though, after how much of a bitch she is. She'd probably be so snarky about the fact that another person is enthralled by her. You know how little she thinks about the opposite sex, but you're not a boy. Still, she might think even lower of you for seeing her this way. But it's Nia. How could you not? <</if>> “You're staring,” she interrupts your thoughts. She smiles and takes a sip of her wine. “And here I thought I looked like a mess but you just can't look at me like that.” “Like what? Are you flirting with me?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “Don't play stupid, it's not a cute look,” she admonishes. “I'm not trying to be cute. Unlike you, I don't give a shit what others think,” she claim. “Sure,” she says sarcastically. Before you can retort the maids bring in the food. [[NEXT->Page 348]] </h3>

<h3>You wonder if she brings other people here. New friends she's cultivated without you. //To replace you//. If they chat over the distance of twelve seats. Laugh and cheer. Does she entertain? Her home used to be the only place she said she was herself. And that was important, then. If she brought you home, then you were the special chosen one to see her as herself. The maids come in with the food. <<if $hateN >>\ You don't understand it. You hate her for what she did. For throwing you away like an old pair of shoes she found is out of season. Everytime you see her lack of remorse you want to shake her, make her feel what's she's done. Why do you care if she has other friends? Is it jealousy? But why does it have to be? She doesn't deserve that. You scowl at your food. <<elseif $angryN >>\ Ugh, why do you give a shit? The ire you have for her should outweigh anything. She LEFT you. Like you meant nothing. She didn't even have the courtesy of telling you why or saying goodbye. Everytime you see her lack of remorse you want pummel her. Why do you care if she has other friends? Is it jealousy? But why does it have to be? She doesn't deserve that. You angrily stab at your food. <<elseif $shrugN >>\ Sometimes you think you have things figured out. But sitting across from her now, you're more confused than ever. You should feel more strongly about her abandonment and her seemingly lack of remorse. But in spite of it, you can't bring those negative feelings forward. Or you jealous? Is that it? Or do you simply want closure? Can you let her go when she tells you why? Do you want to let her go? You're getting a headache just thinking about it. You take a sip of water. <<elseif $careN >>\ You feel your chest ache like a swollen thumb. Maybe it was selfish of you for only wanting to be her real friend. Be that's what you want. Your friendship is real, if she has that with the other kids she always told you she hated... than was yours ever real? You so desperately want it to be. The thought of losing her forever, growing further apart than this table is something too unbearable to behold. You'd forgive her, if only she asked. Why can't she ask? You move your food around your plate. <</if>> “I don't want to tell you your business, but food as good as that is usually eaten,” she interjects jokingly. “If I keep it up are you going to feed me?” you snark. The corner of her lip raises, “I'll get the bib.” You take some onto your fork and make a show of taking a bite. Nia watches you, her eyes smiling. When you put down the fork she mockingly applauds. “Good, it would've been a very annoying night if I had to teach you how to eat again. You had me worried that the asylum ruined you.” “No, I'm just my regular amount of ruined,” you snort. She raises her glass and cheers to you. [[NEXT->Page 348]] </h3>

<h3>At some point, the hard beats of the rain against the window started sounding like little tiny flicks. A gentle lullaby from nature. Maybe you'll rest your eyes, just for a moment. You haven't been sleeping well, maybe a power nap will do. Fifteen minutes at the most. Yeah. That sounds nice. Your head feels fuzzy and warm, your eyes droop and the heat from the vents feels like a nice blanket over your slick skin. Down... Down... Down... Into... Wonderland... Alice... Goes... [[NEXT->Page 349*]] </h3>

<h3>And boy is it a good meal. Nia doesn't try to talk to you and you're free to chow down on your food almost like an animal. But who can blame you? You've only had macaroni and cheese for about a month. This is a like dining at a five star restaurant. You spend so much time enjoying yourself on the food that you don't notice how much time has passed. A maid comes in, one of the ones who set the table. Her hands are clasped behind her straight back. Nia raises her eyebrow and the maid says, “Imre Duran and friend are asking to come in, Miss.” Nia glances at you while you check your watch. Jesus, it's been two hours. “Let them in,” Nia commands. The maid nods and goes, leaving you two alone for a brief moment before you're interrupted. “So this is why you're here? For Imre,” she states, wiping her mouth and throwing it on the plate. You almost think she sounds annoyed. “Nia—“ “Nice to see you two getting along,” Imre chimes in, walking into the room with his coat draped over his arm. “Good evening, querida,” he goes to Nia and kisses her on the cheek. Lorcan shrugs off his wet jacket and throws it on the back of a chair. He plops down on a seat and leans the chair back. Nia glowers at him. “Like a rat you always make yourself at home,” she snaps. Lorcan gives her the finger while smiling. “Don't be a shit host.” Imre sits down in the chair nearest to her. Nia plants both of her hands on the table, or well... more like slams. “What is everyone //doing// here?” Imre takes out the newspaper from under his arm and gently puts it in front of Nia. Nia's eyebrows raise as she sees the picture on the front page. You've never seen her so surprised. “Querida. We've found that in our investigation, your mother's name. We don't know exactly where she fits into all of this but maybe she left something behind. Something here,” he says softly, more gently than you've ever heard him speak to anyone. “Did you know your mother was an outsider?” Imre prods, a compassionate expression on his face. Nia icily looks up from the newspaper. She directs the full force of her winter wrath on Imre as she asks, “you sent Birdie here to butter me up then? You're going to trample all over my fucking life for your little pet project?” <hr>\ * [[“Nia that wasn't my intention.”|Page 350]] * [[“Nia this isn't personal.”|Page 350]] * [[“Nia just answer the fucking question.”|Page 350]] </h3>

<h3>//You're standing in a field. A field that feels familiar. But not. The trees are the trees of your home. The trees that have looked over you your whole life. They've never harmed you. But why do their eyes frighten you? They see you in your bed at night. They saw you thousands of kilometres away when you were shackled to your bed, screaming at your dreams.<<audio "thunder" stop>> <<if $tname>>They've been here for so long, $tname.<<else>>They've been here for so long, $name.<</if>> They ''ache'' to get out. You turn around in circles in the field, their eyes follow your every movement as if you were a dancer on the stage. A ballerina dancing their dance, the dance they could once dance when they were not so old. Oh, sweet $name, come out us at last. Hurry up and get here fast. You'll be glad to finally see the face behind your eyes, you'll oh, so, cry. All you have to do is eat us. Eat us whole. With our orange eyes. You smile. Oh what delight! He had so much fright but not you. You know what you must do. Out of the woods, comes to greet you—// “Crowny!“ You're shoved out of your dream. Your cheek pressed against the cold window. Someone's shaking your arm. You throw Lorcan's hand off and grimace as his voice is far too loud near your ear. “Crowny!“ “Yes, yes I'm up!“ you say. Lorcan leans back into his seat and starts putting on his jacket. “Wha...” you begin to say but notice how dark it is. You squint and check your watch. You slept for two hours. The dream you dreamt already escaping you. “Did Imre say he wants us to come in?” you ask groggily. “Nope,” Lorcan pops the 'p.' He opens the door, “but I'm bored and he's our ride, so let's drag his ass back here unless your girl friend killed him.” “She's not my girl friend,” you yawn and get out of the car. [[NEXT->Page 350*]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan knocks on the silver gazelle knocker. The knocker always seemed so delicate for a house so strong. How can a house be strong? You don't know, but Nia's house with its onyx panelling and its green color scheme fit the bill. Lorcan impatiently pounds on the door after it's not opened within five seconds of his first knock. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks suddenly. “Why?” you wipe your eyes, “did I make a noise?” “Yeah it was fucking creepy,” he says, pounding the hard wood. “How?” “You were laughing,” he says as the door opens to reveal one of Nia's maids that you've seen many times when you came here. “How may I help you?” she asks politely. Lorcan pushes past her, going into the lobby. The maid throws you a stunned look and goes after him, “um sir? You can't be in here without the permission of the owners!“ Wincing at Lorcan's utter disregard for manners you step inside the house. You look around, taking in the familiar surroundings of the main lobby. Marble flooring, black panels and forest green paint along the walls. Truth be told it looks rather sinister. The elevator stands at the far end, it goes up until the third floor. The maid keeps pleading with Lorcan to go back to the door and that she'll ask Miss Mir to let him in but just “please go.” Lorcan ignores her looking around. “This place has like fifty doors. Crowny!“ Lorcan yells. You tear your eyes away from a picture of Nia at one of her birthday parties where she was dressed as that red-headed mermaid. You throw him a questioning look and he says, “where the fuck are they?” You point to the dining room which is the only room with the doors open and where heated voices are coming from. Lorcan pushes past the blabbering maid and you follow. Just as you and Lorcan see Imre and Nia talking at the table the maid comes in and quickly begins apologizing. “Miss Mir, I tried to keep him at the door but he wouldn't listen I'm so sorry I promise this won't happen again if you want I'll—“ Nia holds up a hand. The maid's rambles cut short. “It's fine Patricia, you can go,” she sighs. Patricia bows quickly and practically runs out of the room. Nia eyes you before picking up a familiar newspaper and asking you, “so this is your grand plan?” “It wasn't really //my// plan,” you mumble. Nia slams the newspaper down and begins to read loudly, her voice steely. [[NEXT->Page 351*]] </h3>

<h3>“Last night June 8th Doctor Amir Mir , one of our beloved and respected town residents, suffered a great tragedy. He awoke to find his wife of five years gone. The authorities were called to the house on 67 SeaBird Estates to find Mrs. Mir had vanished. According to local Police Chief Walters, there is no evidence of foul play so far. Police say that all of Mrs. Mir's belongings were left behind,” she recounts. “Querida, we already read it,” Imre admits. “Well I haven't //querido// so shut up and let me read,” she commands with a bite. If Imre is offended by her tone he doesn't show it, his face a mask of understanding. Her eyes quickly skim over the text, her breathing becoming heavier, pushing against the yellowed paper. Her nails grip the sides of it, creating more wrinkles as her hands start clutching tighter and tighter. Her mouth is set into a hard line. Lorcan slowly starts sitting down but his jacket squeaks against the chair and Nia stops reading to glare at him. He's stuck in a squatting position and stays frozen as he eyes pentrate him. “You know what? I'll just stand,” he says awkwardly. Nia goes back to reading. Her fingers grip the paper so strongly her hands start shaking. Abruptly she slams the newspaper down, her eyes looking at it as if it did something horrible to her. “Nia?” Imre ventures. “My m- that woman was sick. She lost her mind by the end. My dad did everything he could to help her but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. She's not a part of this big conspiracy you have going on Imre. She's not a piece on your chessboard. You know she would say that she saw things in the woods? Beckoning her? People that she knew. People that were dead. That's what she said. She was a sick lady who left me when I was a kid and probably lives on the streets now or is dead but either way, good riddance.” She says all of this while not taking her eyes off the newspaper. When you shift your weight from one foot to the other her eyes dart up to you. “I expected something like this from Imre. Even Lorcan because he's a dick. But you? Using my mom to get to me? You would do this to me knowing what this means to me?” she says, her voice gravelly. <<if $tname>>\ Before you can answer Nia's intense gaze, Imre butts in, “it's not $name's fault.” Your old name makes you scrunch up your nose. You should probably— <<else>>\ Before you can answer Nia's intense gaze, Imre butts in, “it's not $name's fault.” <</if>>\ “Of course it isn't entirely,” she says venomously. “This is your baby. Your brain child. Like always, who gives a shit about the feelings of people who you love as long as you get to play detective, imagining that you're much more clever than you think.” “Nia,” Imre says coldly. “I'll excuse this because you're hurt. But don't say something you'll regret.” Nia laughs cruelly, shaking her head. “You're unbelievable. You know I always thought you had limits to what you are, that it would never hit me but you really know how to surprise people Imre.” “And you,” she looks at you. “What are you doing? Courting death? For what? Just because you can? To show Sally he doesn't control you?” She doesn't expect an answer as she says to Imre, “if you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But how dare you drag $name into this.” “Hey!” you exclaim. <hr>\ * [[“This is my choice.”|Page 352][$meN to true]] * [[“If you want to yell at someone yell at me.”|Page 352][$yellN to true]] * [[“Don't act like I'm not here!”|Page 352][$hereN to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tname>>Before you can answer Nia's intense gaze, Imre butts in, “it's not $tname's fault.”<<else>>Before you can answer Nia's intense gaze, Imre butts in, “it's not $name's fault.”<</if>> “Of course it isn't entirely,” she says venomously. “This is your baby. Your brain child. Like always, who gives a shit about the feelings of people who you love as long as you get to play detective, imagining that you're much more clever than you think.” “Nia,” Imre says coldly. “I'll excuse this because you're hurt. But don't say something you'll regret.” Nia laughs cruelly, shaking her head. “You're unbelievable. You know I always thought you had limits to what you are, that it would never hit me but you really know how to surprise people Imre.” “And you,” she looks at you. “What are you doing? Courting death? For what? Just because you can? To show Sally he doesn't control you?” <<if $tname>>She doesn't expect an answer as she says to Imre, “if you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But how dare you drag $tname into this.”<<else>>She doesn't expect an answer as she says to Imre, “if you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But how dare you drag $name into this.”<</if>> “Hey!“ you exclaim. <hr>\ * [[“This is my choice.”|Page 352][$meN to true]] * [[“If you want to yell at someone yell at me.”|Page 352][$yellN to true]] * [[“Don't act like I'm not here!”|Page 352][$hereN to true]] </h3>

<h3>Imre stops at the trailer park first. It's too dark to see much of where you're going, and after Imre drives over a steep puddle he demands that Lorcan walks the rest of the way. <<audio "thunder" loop play>> As Lorcan is getting out of the car, grumbling all the way, Imre gets a message on his pager. His jaw twitches as he reads it. <<if $tname>>“$tname, I won't be able to drive you all the way to the manor.”<<else>>“$name, I won't be able to drive you all the way to the manor.”<</if>> Lorcan leans down and looks at Imre from under the roof the car, his hands holding onto the exterior, rain soaking him through. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Where are you going to leave her?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Where are you going to leave him?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Where are you going to leave them?”<</if>> “It'll have to be by the path leading to the house, I really am sorry, it's a bit urgent,” Imre says distracted, staring down at the pager. <<if $homel>>\ Lorcan glares at Imre before looking at you. He bites his lip and fishes something out of his pocket. He holds it out to you and you open your hand. A small pocketknife lands on your palm. It's one of those Swiss Army ones. You meet his gaze and he just says, “try not to get murdered.” He shuts the door before you can say anything. <<elseif not $homel>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan glares at Imre, “if she dies, that's on you.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Lorcan glares at Imre, “if he dies, that's on you.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Lorcan glares at Imre, “if they die, that's on you.”<</if>> He shuts the door, you see his silhouette run on the path between the houses. <</if>>\ Imre's mood is sour as he drives you the rest of the way home. He doesn't attempt to talk at all, his eyes hard and focused on the road. His hands grip the steering wheel hard. <<if $homei>>\ Imre jerks the wheel, turning the car around and stopping by the entrance to the pathway. You unbuckle your seatbelt and try to push open the door but it's locked. “Imre?” you ask. Imre unlocks the car and as you open the door he says, “I need you to take this.” A necklace dangles from his fingers. You take it from him, the light from the radio illuminates a silver cross, of the gothic persuasion. You close your hands over it. When you look up at him he's still staring straight ahead, a million light-years from here. “I'm unsure about how much it will help, but it would alleviate my concern if you wore that and didn't take it off. At least until this is all over,” he insists. “Ok,” you agree. It's big enough that you can slip over your head. You step out of the car. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “Goodnight,” you repeat. <<elseif not $homei>>\ Imre jerks the wheel, turning the car around and stopping by the entrance to the pathway. You unbuckle your seatbelt and try to push open the door but it's locked. “Imre?” you ask. Imre unlocks the car and as you open the door he says, “try to speed walk. Goodnight.” “Sure, goodnight,” you repeat. <</if>> You wrap your arms around yourself and start walking quickly down the muddy path, your shoes sinking into the soft earth. [[NEXT->Page 356]] </h3>

<h3><<if $scream>>\ A bloodcurlling scream makes its way out of your mouth. It bursts forth like a geyser. Coming from somewhere unknown within you. It's painful, attacking your chest and bleeding your throat. The demon come to haunt you. You feel your heart beating somewhere distant, at the speed it's going you feel as if you're about to have a heart attack. Your whole body is trembling. You can't breathe, you can't breathe you can't you you you you— //You're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die// You scream and scream and don't stop even as you feel Sally grab you, holding you to his chest. “Sweetheart what's wrong?” Sally asks desperately. And you scream until you collapse. <<elseif $bite>>\ You bring your hand to your mouth and bite down hard, screaming into it as you break through skin and feel the metallic taste fill your mouth. The blood drips down your lips but you keep biting, your bone aching under the merciless attack of your teeth. The demon come to haunt you. You feel your heart beating somewhere distant, at the speed it's going you feel as if you're about to have a heart attack. Your whole body is trembling. You can't breathe, you can't breathe you can't you you you you— //You're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die// You don't stop as you feel Sally grab you, holding you to his chest. “Sweetheart what's wrong?” Sally asks desperately. You keep biting until you collapse. <<elseif $shock>>\ Your remain as you are. Unable to do anything. Not being able to scream. To move. To close your eyes at the demon come to haunt you. You see her now in waking nightmares. You feel your heart beating somewhere distant, at the speed it's going you feel as if you're about to have a heart attack. Your whole body is trembling. You can't breathe, you can't breathe you can't you you you you— //You're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die// You remain stiff, in rigor mortis as Sally grabs you, bringing you to his chest. “Sweetheart what's wrong?” Sally asks desperately. Somewhere in the endless nightmare you collapse. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 359]] </h3>

<h3>__ ''//LAST TIME ON WE WRETCHED CREATURES...//''__ °°°° //You stop and listen closely. At first it seems you imagined it. The only sound audible to you is your heartbeat. <<audio "thunder" stop>> You take another step and hear it again. You look slowly to your right. Could it be coming from there?// The noise stops... no it actually doesn't. There's another noise. It's lower. It sounds like grass. The healthy kind. It's the same sound you made when you walked on the grass on this side. °°°° //You and Imre crouch on either side of the Lorcan and peer over his shoulders at the picture frame he holds up. It's a black and white group picture. You count 16 in all. None of them are smiling, rather they look intensely into the camera, almost angry.// °°°° //Suddenly you're caught with a fear. You slide off the window sill and kneel on the floor, reaching under your bed you pull out the wooden box.// °°°° //“Nia?” Imre ventures. “My m- that woman was sick. She lost her mind by the end. My dad did everything he could to help her but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. She's not a part of this big conspiracy you have going on Imre. She's not a piece on your chessboard. You know she would say that she saw things in the woods? Beckoning her? People that she knew. People that were dead. That's what she said. She was a sick lady who left me when I was a kid and probably lives on the streets now or is dead but either way, good riddance.”// °°°° //Then you see something move in the reflection. Your eyes flutter as you slowly, torturously look over your shoulder again. She stands in between the trees. The dress she wore that night hanging on her thin frame, torn and filthy, exposing parts of her body that would be nude but instead are dripping scarlet clumps of flesh. Her hair hangs limply against her skeletal face. Her eyes are even more vibrant than when you last saw her.// //[[THIS EPISODE'S SPONSOR->Episode 6 Sponsor]]// </h3>

<h3><<if $speed>>\ You start speeding up, not caring that you shouldn't do that. You trip once, near the end of the path, landing on your hip. You hiss as your bone bounces off the ground. Your hands burn as you use them to stand up. The mud seeps into your jeans, sliding down your legs. You attempt to wipe your mud-splattered eyes. But you only succeed in dirting your face up even more. //'You know she would say that she saw things in the woods? Beckoning her? People that she knew. People that were dead. That's what she said.'// You look around you, you look over your shoulder behind you. You look up into the trees. Darkness. But not the darkness from the absence of light. A darkness produced by something. You see the weak lights of the porch and nearly break your neck trying to get there over the slippery mud. You scramble up the steps, almost smashing your face against the steps. You get to the door and see your reflection in it. You look ghastly. A mud-stained creature from the bog. You look ridiculous. You $habit. Trying to calm your racing heart. You whisper to yourself, “it's fine. It's fine. It's fine.” Then you see something move in the reflection. Your eyes flutter as you slowly, torturously look over your shoulder again. She stands in between the trees. The dress she wore that night hanging on her thin frame, torn and filthy, exposing parts of her body that would be nude but instead are dripping scarlet clumps of flesh. Her hair hangs limply against her skeletal face. Her eyes are even more vibrant than when you last saw her. She stares at you. Her expression curious like a deer. Like she's never seen you before. Your mouth falls open, rain from your forehead slides down into your wide eyes. Your bones ice over, and you feel like you'll never move again. She blinks once. And she loses that look. When she opens her mouth you see the broken teeth jutting out of her gums like sharp fangs, even from such a distance. You gasp and in your struggle to open the door, your foot slips and you crash to the porch floor, your back hitting the door hard. Her voice sounds as sweet as a lullaby. “Welcome home, $sibrelation.” <hr>\ * [[Scream.|Page 358][$scream to true]] * [[Bite yourself.|Page 358][$bite to true]] * [[Stare.|Page 358][$shock to true]] <<elseif $slow >>\ Against everything in your head screaming at you to hurry, you force yourself to continue walking on as if you're fine. Your shoes squelch as they nearly slide off your feet. Your clothes weight you down and you know that if what you feel is true, then you're defenceless. But you won't show fear. //'You know she would say that she saw things in the woods? Beckoning her? People that she knew. People that were dead. That's what she said.'// You look around you, you look over your shoulder behind you. You look up into the trees. Darkness. But not the darkness from the absence of light. A darkness produced by something. You see the weak lights of the porch and almost sigh in relief, your steps slightly quickening. You take measured steps up the stairs, holding onto the railing. You get to the door and see your reflection in it. You look ghastly. A wet swamp creature. You look ridiculous. You $habit. Trying to calm your racing heart. You whisper to yourself, “it's fine. It's fine. It's fine.” Then you see something move in the reflection. Your eyes flutter as you slowly, torturously look over your shoulder again. She stands in between the trees. The dress she wore that night hanging on her thin frame, torn and filthy, exposing parts of her body that would be nude but instead are dripping scarlet clumps of flesh. Her hair hangs limply against her skeletal face. Her eyes are even more vibrant than when you last saw her. She stares at you. Her expression curious like a deer. Like she's never seen you before. Your mouth falls open, rain from your forehead slides down into your wide eyes. Your bones ice over, and you feel like you'll never move again. She blinks once. And she loses that look. When she opens her mouth you see the broken teeth jutting out of her gums like sharp fangs, even from such a distance. You gasp and in your struggle to open the door, your foot slips and you crash to the porch floor, your back hitting the door hard. Her voice sounds as sweet as a lullaby. “Welcome home, $sibrelation.” <hr>\ * [[Scream.|Page 358][$scream to true]] * [[Bite yourself.|Page 358][$bite to true]] * [[Stare.|Page 358][$shock to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You smile, showing your canine teeth and he looks momentarily nervous before you spit in his face. “Ah shit!“ he winces, his hands pausing as they seek to wipe his face. You beam like a victor, a conqueror, you have him right where you want him, right underneath y— He spits in your face. You reel back, your eyes close and your mouth opens in a shocked 'O.' You're so stunned by what he's done that you don't move for ten seconds. Opening your eyes slowly you see him wipe his mouth, a mischievous look in his eyes. Before you can insult him a car races past, someone rolls down the window and sticks their head out in the rain. “Fucking freaks! Who fucks in the mud?!“ You both glare at them but then look back at each other. Your little game breaks then and you scramble up, off his lap all the while wiping your face. Lorcan remains sitting in the mud, he looks down at his hand, then to his dirty jeans. He zips up his jacket which due to how big it is on him it goes past his crotch. He gets up and you both spend moments just staring at each other, the rain pouring down your faces, the mud crusting on your clothes. Lorcan breathes in and out through his mouth, the only sound apart from the rain. You have a vague thought somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind that something has changed. But that's just a blip, the rest of your mind is quiet. Lorcan snaps his eyes down and the spell is broken, you cough and find that your filthy shoes look so interesting right now. “Freeze out here if you want, I'm cold as fuck,” he says in a raspy voice and walks past you, making sure to not accidentally graze you. “Yeah me too,” you concede monotonously. You force yourself to start walking, making sure you're always behind him. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about nothing. Your mind is a slate wiped clean. [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about nothing. Your mind is a slate wiped clean. [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a girl. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a boy. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a not a girl, not a boy, just you and it feels freeing. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever, so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a not a boy, not a girl, just you and it feels freeing. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Deciding to give him this you don't fight him when he throws you off of him even if that means you land back in the mud. Laughing you sit up and see Lorcan throw mud off his jacket, he quickly glares at you as he does this. “If this jacket gets ruined your ass is buying me a new one,” he claims. You smirk at his audacity, “who tackled who to the ground?” He doesn't respond, zipping up his jacket which because it's too big on him it covers past his crotch. As you keeping observing him your smile starts to slowly fall. You don't know why but this isn't fun right now. Lorcan avoids your gaze, spending a lot of time brushing his jacket sleeves that don't have mud on them anymore. All of a sudden you feel self-conscious. It hits you at full force that you were straddling Lorcan, that you pinned him down and got close enough to— your face drains of color and you immediately get up. Lorcan keeps his face turned away from you but you can see the red blossoming at the back of his neck. You have a vague thought somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind that something has changed but that's just a blip, the rest of your mind is a web of confusing thoughts and sensations. Having that power over him felt... good. //So// good. It was like getting high, as powerful as the ones they would give you at the asylum. He was yours, at your complete mercy and just the thought of having him looking up at you makes your mouth pant. “Freeze out here if you want, I'm cold as fuck,” he says in a raspy voice and walks past you, making sure to not accidentally graze you. “Yeah me too,” you concede monotonously. You force yourself to start walking, making sure you're always behind him. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about nothing, your mind is a slate wiped clean. [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about nothing, your mind is a slate wiped clean. [[NEXT->Page 316*]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a girl. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a boy. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a not a girl, not a boy, just you and it feels freeing. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ The rest of the walk is incredibly awkward to say the least. There's never been a moment when you two didn't have anything to say to each other. And the walk home seems to last forever so instead of feeling tremendously weird you think about what you said. It was in a moment of chaos and adrenaline but you finally said it. You admitted that you're a not a boy, not a girl, just you and it feels freeing. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances but...silver linings. So with that... will you change your name? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|T-NAME3]] * [[No.|T-NAUR]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>It's a firm squeeze. A squeeze that tells you: 'it's ok.' Imre smiles at you. You reciprocate and lightly pat the hand he has on your shoulder. It's something so simple yet, the little ball of anger in your stomach lessens. It's replaced by a cool breath of air. “Better?” You nod. “Much, better.” He lets you go and you wait until Lorcan comes back. [[NEXT->Page 337**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” Right, you haven't told her yet. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. Right, you haven't told her about your recent change. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <</if>> “Are you going to do it or not?” you ask exasperated. She scoffs and gets up without a word. She doesn't make any gesture for you to follow her so you stay where you are. Fingers gripping the seat. Eventually she comes back with a basket. She sits down and goes through the polishes. Without looking up she asks, “are you going to pick something?” You get up and lean down by her, almost cheek to cheek. She has a copious collection of nail polish bottles. You point to the <<cycle '$nailp' autoselect>><<option 'red'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'purple'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'pink'>><<option 'yellow'>><<option 'orange'>><<option 'white'>><<option 'clear'>><<option 'green'>><</cycle>> polish. “Ok, scoot over here, and sit still or I'll fuck this up,” she commands. You push a foot rest next to her and lay your hand on the armrest. She moves it to her lap and begins filing your nails. She's surprisingly gentle with it. She constantly stops to lift up your hand and check her work. When she gets to the polish she makes slow, deliberate swipes. Careful not to coat your skin. Each time she does a coat she tells you to blow on your nail. It takes time, at certain points she swears when she or you accidentally mess up the polish. Finally she has you blow one last time on your nails, screwing on the cap of the polish and plopping it down in the basket. “Mess those up and I'm not redoing them,” she warns. You lift your hands up into the light of the fireplace and smile. <hr>\ <<if $piano>>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess>>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.==\ <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]]\ <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <<if $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're trans.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[Tell her you're non-binary.|Page 345*][$transN to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>While still looking at Arthur, Imre asks you, “how long has Arthur worked for your family?” You hesitate before replying, “I think a little over ten years, maybe fifteen.” “Hmm,” he replies, his eyes trained on him. “Why?” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face, “your mother said that Yasmine tried to convince her to leave town with her. That seems to me like a close relationship and based on that I wouldn't be surprised if she frequented your house. Perhaps Arthur can tell us something about her.” “Or maybe he would drive my mother to her house, either way we get something,” you conclude. “Exactly,” he says, rolling up his window and turning off the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and Imre asks, “shall I do the honors or you?” <hr>\ * [[“I'll be lead detective.”|Page 318-i][$lead1 to true]] * [[“You're better at it.”|Page 318-i][$lead2 to true]] </h3>

<h3>You start walking towards him when Lorcan grabs your sleeve. You raise your eyebrows and he swiftly lets go. <<if $S34>>\ “Imre is an idiot and so are you,” he accuses. Your eyebrows lower, “you couldn't stop yourself from making one last insult. Are you like a fairy that lives off bitchery?” He gets annoyed and flicks your nose. “The help is always there and no one sees them cause all you rich assholes think they're second class citizens. I bet if you ask your driver there if he knew Nia's mom he'll say yes.” <<elseif not $S34>>\ “Do you remember what I said to you the first day of school?” he asks. You look down and think. Your memory is hardly first-rate. “Something about how our employees see things,” you recite. He nods and then flicks your nose. “Ow, what was that for?” you rub your nose. He shrugs, “just cause. But yeah if anyone knows anything about Nia's mom, it's that dude.” He jerks his thumb to Arthur. <</if>> It's not a bad idea. Looking at Arthur you ask, “so is it going to—“ “You do it.” “Ugh.” <hr>\ * [[Do it.|Page 318-l][$lead3 to true]] * [[Call it off.|Page 318-l][$lead4 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "rainycar" stop>>\ <<if $lead1 >>\ Imre raises his eyebrow. You ask, “what? I'm really liking this.” He raises his hands, “I'm not judging you for it. I'm just surprised.” You shrug and get out of the car. You and Imre have to speed walk towards the porch. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Arthur gets up as you both step onto the porch, your hair already damp and your clothes slick. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. <<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Miss from now on, as well as any other female terms. Miss $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mr— Miss Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mister from now on, as well as any other male terms. Mister $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mister Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mx. Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mister Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mist— Mx. Crown.” <</if>> Arthur looks to the skies and says, “it is really pouring. Hasn't been this bad since spring, four years ago.” Imre briefly looks before remarking, “yes, terrible. I do wonder, and I don't mean to cause offence, but if you're here why wouldn't you pick up $tname from school?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Miss Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mr. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mx. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<</if>> Imre's eyes hold a hint of irritation and you raise your hand before Arthur can start his profusive whining. “That doesn't matter Arthur. I was actually hoping if I can ask you about someone important,” you wonder. Arthur looks relieved as to deflect the conversation away from his irresponsbility. “Ask away, I'm at your service.” //Note: Question 3 finalizes the questioning.// <hr>\ * [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319-i][$questionA to true]] * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead2 >>\ Imre looks satisfied as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I'm not one to toot my own horn but I do like Sherlock Holmes,” Imre exults. He definitely does mean to toot his horn, it's evident by the absolute delight in his face as he gets out of the car. You and Imre have to speed walk towards the porch. Arthur gets up as you both step onto the porch, your hair already damp and your clothes slick. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.” “Hi, Arthur,” you respond.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mr. Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Miss from now on, as well as any other female terms. Miss $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mr— Miss Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mister from now on, as well as any other male terms. Mister $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mister Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Miss Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Miss— Mx. Crown.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He tips his hat to Imre, “Mr. Duran.” Imre replies warmly and then he greets you, “Mister Crown.”<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “Hi, Arthur,” you respond. And thinking it's the best time to start small you correct him, “I would like for you to refer to me as Mx from now on, as well as any other gender netural terms. Mx $tname Crown.” Arthur looks confused and he answers, “uh ok. I will Mist— Mx. Crown.” <</if>> Arthur looks to the skies and says, “it is really pouring. Hasn't been this bad since spring, four years ago.” Imre briefly looks before remarking, “yes, terrible. I do wonder, and I don't mean to cause offence, but if you're here why wouldn't you pick up $tname from school?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Miss Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mr. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Arthur's eyes widen, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, you're right Mr. Duran. I apologize Mx. Crown. This old noggin' isn't as spry as it used to be,” he says apologetically and points to his head.<</if>> Imre's eyes hold a hint of irritation and you raise your hand before Arthur can start his profusive whining. “That's ok Arthur I got home well enough—“ “We were wondering if we could, or well if I could ask you about someone I feel you know very well,” Imre inquires. Arthur looks slightly unnerved, he takes a moment to respond. His telltale smile wavering. “Of course, Mr. Duran.” <<set $question4 to true>> [[NEXT->Page 319-i]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $lead3 >>\ “Your lack of people skills is an a hindrance,” you state. Lorcan yawns. “I don't care, and you're only like a tiny bit better than me, Crowny.” You walk to the safety of the porch and Lorcan trudges behind. Arthur stands up and his expression is startled as he looks both of you up and down. You touch your hair, trying to pat it down. Clearing your throat, you say, “Arthur I was wondering if I could ask you something?” Arthur eyes Lorcan who scowls at him making the driver quickly look away and throw you a smile. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Miss Crown now. Just call me by girl pronouns, it's just Miss $tname Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Mis—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MISS CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mr. Crown now. Just call me by boy pronouns, it's just Mr. $tname Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Miss—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MR. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Miss Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mx. Crown now. Just call me by neutral pronouns, it's just Mx. $tname Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Miss—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MX. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Anything I can help you with I will, Mr. Crown,” he replies. Cleaning off your jacket you reply, “actually Arthur I would appreciate if you called me Mx. Crown now. Just call me by neutral pronouns, it's just Mx. $tname Crown now.” Arthur looks confused and ready to ask questions but Lorcan straightens his posture and intensely glares at the man. Arthur's eyes widen at the boy and he stammers, “o-of course. Mist—“ Lorcan makes a noise, “MX. CROWN.” You try to not grin amusedly.<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> <</if>>\ //Note: Question 3 finalizes the questioning.// <hr>\ * [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319-l][$questionA to true]] * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320*][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T*][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ “Fine then we're not fucking do anything Lorcan,” you state angrily. Lorcan wrinkles his nose, as if he smelled something disgusting. “You can't just say a few fucking words to him?” Your eyes widen at the audacity and pressing your finger into his chest you denounce, “you're such a damn hypocrite. I could say the same thing about you, if you wanna do this so badly then you go and talk to him. Lorcan slaps your finger away and with a huff he marches towards Arthur who seeing an angry 19-year old boy charging toward him, stands up with a scared look in his face. You hurry to catch up and reach the cover of the porch as Lorcan does. Arthur looks at both of you, the feelings of confusion and fear written all over his face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.”<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.”<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “It's actually Miss $tname Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Miss'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “It's actually Mr. $tname Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mr.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Miss Crow—“ “It's actually Mx. $tname Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Mr. Crow—“ “It's actually Mx. $tname Crown—“<<set $prefix to 'Mx.'>> “HEY,” Lorcan waves in Arthur's face, “driver guy.” You throw Lorcan a look of irritation for interrupting you. <</if>> “It's Arthur, Mr. St—“ “Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan silences him. “I have some shit to ask you.” Arthur looks nervously at you and you just nod. “Y-yes, however I can be at ser—“ “Great.” [[NEXT->Page 319-l]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $questionA >>\ “Ok, so do you remember anything about Nia's mother?” Arthur's smile disappears and he seems at a loss for words. He quickly looks to Imre as if what you said is what he heard and Imre looks on devoid of expression. Arthur clears his throat and takes a moment to answer. “W-why—,” he sighs. “Why do you ask?” Schooling your expression into something resembling nonchalance you claim, “Nia and I haven't been friendly lately and I just want to know if maybe her mother's alleged mental issues might explain why she's acting so... weird.” Imre looks over at you, a slight look of surprise in his eyes at how such an easy and quick lie spilled from your lips. Arthur grows uncomfortable but his voice is stronger and clearer, “I didn't want to mention it but I have noticed how Miss Mir has not been coming around the house since your arrival. Only on the night of your homecoming and she didn't look too pleased with you then.” You lament, “yes. It's been hard. And that is why I need to know if it's something like what her mom had. To be able to help her. But for that I need to know more about... what was her name...” you trail off. “Yasmine,” Arthur says immediately. You snap your fingers, “exactly. I knew you would be of help. What was she like?” “I didn't know the Mrs. Mir that well. I only would see her when she came over for tea with your mother.” <hr>\ * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320-i][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-i][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $question4 >>\ “How often did Nia Mir's mother come to this house before she disappeared?” he asks frankly. Arthur is taken aback by Imre's lack of hesitation. “Uh, every once in a while. Mrs. Mir and Mrs. Crown would have tea in the parlor,” he answers. Imre cups his chin, his forefinger curled on it and his thumb holding up his head. “Were you ever privy to what they discussed during the tea parties?” Arthur's eyes harden and he says in offended tone, “I would never listen to a private conversation between Mrs. Crown and her friends.” Imre looks at him unfazed, “I wasn't accusing you of eavesdropping. I merely want to know if you ever caught snippets of words, sentences, what-have-you.” Arthur shakes his head, “nothing at all, Mr. Duran.” “How long were these tea parties? And did they ever change?” Arthur looks to you and you have the look of someone who's interested in his answer. Finding that he has no ally in you he replies, “they were usually an hour or so. They only ever changed...” “Yes?” Imre prods. “They only changed the weeks before Mrs. Mir disappearances,” Arthur replies. [[NEXT->Page 320-i]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $questionA >>\ “Ok, so do you remember anything about Nia's mother?” Arthur's smile disappears and he seems at a loss for words. He quickly looks to Lorcan as if what you said is what he heard and Lorcan looks on devoid of expression. Arthur clears his throat and takes a moment to answer. “W-why—,” he sighs. “Why do you ask?” Schooling your expression into something resembling nonchalance you claim, “Nia and I haven't been friendly lately and I just want to know if maybe her mother's alleged mental issues might explain why she's acting so... weird.” Lorcan looks confused, his mood apparent in his gray eyes but he doesn't say anything, electing to stare down at the ground. Arthur grows uncomfortable but his voice is stronger and clearer, “I didn't want to mention it but I have noticed how Miss Mir has not been coming around the house since your arrival. Only on the night of your homecoming and she didn't look too pleased with you then.” You lament, “yes. It's been hard. And that is why I need to know if it's something like what her mom had. To be able to help her. But for that I need to know more about... what was her name...” you trail off. “Yasmine,” Arthur says immediately. You snap your fingers, “exactly. I knew you would be of help. What was she like?” “I didn't know the Mrs. Mir that well. I only would see her when she came over for tea with your mother.” <hr>\ * [[Question him about her behaviour before her disappearance.|Page 320-l][$questionB to true]] * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T-l][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ Arthur swallows his words, a slight tightening of his lip. “Nia's mom. Did that lady come here a lot?” he asks. “You mean Mrs. Mir?” Arthur asks. Lorcan rolls his eyes, “uh duhhhhh. Who the fuck else would I be talking about?” Arthur moves back, a look of disapproval on his face. He looks to you with a forced smile smile and says, “$prefix Crown, I don't think this is an appropriate line of questioning. If Mr. Stark wants to know more information he should contact the police or Dr. Mir.” Lorcan steps in front of you, blocking your view of Arthur. You step around and move next to him. Arthur has his back pressed against the column and Lorcan is standing far too close for comfort. His height slightly taller than your driver. With a rebellious clench to his jaw Arthur looks up at the boy. Meanwhile Lorcan has a heated glare in his eyes. “I'm right here. Don't fucking act like I'm not,” he warns. Arthur leans back and says curtly, “that was not my intention Mr. Stark—“ “And stop calling me that. I'm not like them or you since you've forgotten that you're down in the mud with the rest of us,” Lorcan interjects hotly. Practically spitting he adds, “bootlicker!“ Arthur slides out from in between that cramped space. He puts his hat in his hands and looks down apologetically. “I am truly sorry if I offended you, Mr. Stark.” Before Lorcan could start screaming at him Arthur hastily tips his hat to you and runs out into the rain, heading for the car. [[NEXT->Page 320-l]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $questionB>>\ You and Imre exchange glances, something Arthur notes. You ask, “before she disappeared was she acting strange? Did she ever say anything to you when you would drive her home?” “I guess she was a little... gone? You could say. She was a very friendly lady for most of the time I drove her. But the last few weeks before she left, she wouldn't take to anyone. Not even me.” You quirk your eyebrow and ask, “'left?' You think she left of her own free will?” Arthur shrugs, “I don't know $prefix Crown. It's what I guess, happened.” “And she never said anything weird?' you ask. He shakes his head. “She just stopped speaking.” <hr>\ <<if $questionA>>* ==Question what he remembers of her.==<<elseif not $questionA>>* [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319-i][$questionA to true]]<</if>>\ * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T-i][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $questionC >>\ Imre's eyes alight with a small flame. shoving hands into his pockets he asks, “how long did those final tea parties last?” “Just a few minutes, Mrs. Mir would always leave without a word to anyone, not even me,” he responds. Imre nods and then smiles approvingly, “thank you for your cooperation Arthur. It was very helpful.” Arthur has been with wealthy people long enough to know that this was a swift dismissal. He smiles winsomely at Imre and then you before going into the house. Imre looks after his departing form, a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You move to stand in front of him and ask, “so did you get anything you can sink your teeth into?” <<set $Imrenaur to true>> Imre still remains focused on the door. [[NEXT->Page 321-i]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $LorcanD>>\ “Sally already knows that,” you reply. “Probably got his panties in a twist,” he replies snarkly. “He'll be fine.” Lorcan snorts derisively. “You missed a chance at a ride by the way.” He shrugs, “I don't wanna go home in a fancy car anyway. Your driver would piss his pants if he had to go to Camelot.” Then he gives you a quick look and walks away. So much for goodbyes. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322-l]] <<elseif $Lorcanme>>\ “You know that can mean like two different things?” Lorcan throws you a look of annoyance. “Not everything has to be like... that.” You smirk. Lorcan gives you a quick look and walks away. So much for goodbyes. You go inside, the winds shutting the door forcefully behind you. As you cross the foyer, intent on taking a nice hot shower or bath, your brother appears on the landing and starts walking down. [[NEXT->Page 322-l]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $questionB>>\ You ask, “before she disappeared was she acting strange? Did she ever say anything to you when you would drive her home?” “I guess she was a little... gone? You could say. She was a very friendly lady for most of the time I drove her. But the last few weeks before she left, she wouldn't take to anyone. Not even me.” You quirk your eyebrow and ask, “'left?' You think she left of her own free will?” Arthur shrugs, “I don't know $prefix Crown. It's what I guess, happened.” “That's the most boring theory of Mrs. Mir, I like the alien one,” Lorcan chimes in. You look at him and he just looks to you and a confused Arthur. “What? Ya'll don't keep up with the gossip? It's fun when it's freaky.” Turning away from him, you ask, “and she never said anything weird?” He shakes his head. “She just stopped speaking.” <hr>\ <<if $questionA >>* ==Question what he remembers of her.==<<elseif not $questionA>>* [[Question what he remembers of her.|Page 319-l][$questionA to true]]<</if>>\ * [[Question him about her relationship with your mother.|Page 320-Q3T-l][$questionC to true]] <<elseif $lead4 >>\ Turning back to Lorcan you throw him a grimace along with a disapproving head shake. “What?” he asks clueless, throwing his head back to get his hair off his face. “That was the best you could do? Wow,” you reply sarcastically. Lorcan tsks, “that ass is too loyal and has his head up too far in your parents' crotches to answer shit anyway. That was a dumb idea.” You huff, “you admitting you did something dumb?” Lorcan shoulder checks you and steps out into the rain. He watches as Arthur pulls away and only speaks when the car is covered by the trees lining the path, “he's so gonna tell your brother.” You look to where the car went, “tell him what?”<<set $LorcanD to true>> Lorcan looks over to you, “that you're hangin' out with me.” [[NEXT->Page 321-l]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“What, the old man?” You nod. “Nah, asshole leaves at like five in the morning and comes home like at one. Sally says he talks to him,” he replies. He mumbles something underneath his breath you don't catch. “Have him and Mother fought while I was gone?” you ask. “Look this shit is heavy and I'm not playing twenty questions with you Crazypants. You need a fucking hobby when you and those other two aren't making out in the attic,” he snarks. You punch him in the arm. “I have a hobby.” <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>“Yeah you leave your awful flowers all over the house,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>“Yeah it really is so “fun“ to hear your ass through the walls at midnight when you're doing pushups,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>“Yeah and your taste in books is sooooo boring,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>“Yeah you suck at drawing, it's like a blind person with a crayon,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>“Yeah your handwriting looks like ass,” he snorts.<</if>> <<if $PercyBond > 5>>\ Percy looks into his box and takes out a cassette player with black headphones. The wrist of the hand he's using to hold up the box shakes. A relic of Christmas 1981 when Father 'accidentally' grabbed Percy's arm too hard when he wouldn't stop running around the parlor and he had been deep in his cups. He holds it out to you. <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Page 324-i][$cassy to true]] * [[Don't take it.|Page 324-i*]] <<else>>\ He pushes past you without another word. You go up to your room. [[NEXT|Page 325]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“What, the old man?” You nod. “Nah, asshole leaves at like five in the morning and comes home like at one. Sally says he talks to him,” he replies. He mumbles something underneath his breath you don't catch. “Have him and Mother fought while I was gone?” you ask. “Look this shit is heavy and I'm not playing twenty questions with you Crazypants. You need a fucking hobby when you and those other two aren't making out in the attic,” he snarks. You punch him in the arm. “I have a hobby.” <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>“Yeah you leave your awful flowers all over the house,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>“Yeah it really is so “fun“ to hear your ass through the walls at midnight when you're doing pushups,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>“Yeah and your taste in books is sooooo boring,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>“Yeah you suck at drawing, it's like a blind person with a crayon,” he snorts.<<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>“Yeah your handwriting looks like ass,” he snorts.<</if>> <<if $PercyBond > 5>>\ Percy looks into his box and takes out a cassette player with black headphones. The wrist of the hand he's using to hold up the box shakes. A relic of Christmas 1981 when Father 'accidentally' grabbed Percy's arm too hard when he wouldn't stop running around the parlor and he had been deep in his cups. He holds it out to you. <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Page 324-l][$cassy to true]] * [[Don't take it.|Page 324-l*]] <<else>>\ He pushes past you without another word. You go up to your room. [[NEXT|Page 325]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You take it from him and look down. It's a deep red, banged up a bit but doesn't seem too old. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sister now. I'm $tname, your sister.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace sista.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me brother now. I'm $tname, your brother.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace brotha.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Nothing girly.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-sister.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Nothing boyish.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-brother.” <</if>> You open the player and see there's already a cassette inside. Bringing it up to the light of the chandelier it says it's a <<cycle '$cassym' autoselect>><<option 'pop'>><<option 'rock'>><<option 'jazz'>><<option 'new wave'>><<option 'country'>><<option 'folk'>><<option 'disco'>><<option 'heavy metal'>><</cycle>> cassette. //C's winter in isolation.// Could be a coincidence but by the inital it seems to be your aunt's cassette player or at the very least her cassette. You put the cassette back inside the player, put on the headphones and click PLAY. You listen to the tunes as you make your way to your room. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 325]] </h3>

<h3>You take it from him and look down. It's a deep red, banged up a bit but doesn't seem too old. <<set $PercyBond += 1>> <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sister now. I'm $tname, your sister.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace sista.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me brother now. I'm $tname, your brother.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace brotha.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Nothing girly.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-sister.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “So you can finally stop moping around the house like a ghost. It's getting freaky,” Percy says and walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Nothing boyish.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-brother.” <</if>> You open the player and see there's already a cassette inside. Bringing it up to the light of the chandelier it says it's a <<cycle '$cassym' autoselect>><<option 'pop'>><<option 'rock'>><<option 'jazz'>><<option 'new wave'>><<option 'country'>><<option 'folk'>><<option 'disco'>><<option 'heavy metal'>><</cycle>> cassette. //C's winter in isolation.// Could be a coincidence but by the inital it seems to be your aunt's cassette player or at the very least her cassette. You put the cassette back inside the player, put on the headphones and click PLAY. You listen to the tunes as you make your way to your room. [[NEXT->Page 325]] </h3>

<h3>Graduation is seven months away. It seems far but time keeps slipping through your fingers. You've never given much thought about your future. Honestly, you don't even know where you're going to be after you get your diploma. But... it doesn't hurt to look. You go to the guidance office one day, sneak in and get immediately caught by Mrs. Roberts who spends the next half hour giving you all the reasons why you should come talk to her more often, that she knows how to talk to kids 'like you' and 'with your issues.' A bunch of blah, but you are able to nick some pamphlets for some universities. Laying down on your bed, you riffle through them. You look at... <hr>\ * [[A New York School.]] * [[A school in British Columbia.]] * [[A school in California.]] * [[A Toronto school.]] </h3>

<h3>In school, you've always heard about the importance of resumes. The importance of jobs and experience. Never thinking you'd ever need a job, the current financial state of your family has you double guessing. The problem is, no one in their right mind would hire you. But maybe you'll make one for when you graduate and perhaps leave this town to a place where no one has any idea about you. A place where the name on your resume wouldn't immediately make a person throw it in the trash. Taking the plunge, you stay behind at school one day after the final bell and use the computer in the library. Which is so complicated you have to ask Ms. Frida to help you. Booting up the hulk of a thing takes around several minutes of waiting and you apprehensively scoot your chair back in case it could explode. A bathroom break later, it's finally on. A little... whatchamacallit 'pops' up greeting you. It tells you something about programs and start buttons. There's also little drawings made of pixels on the side which look too tech-y for you. When Ms. Frida instructs you on how to type, you wait a minute after she leaves before cautiously touching a key on the board. It's a nice sound. When it doesn't shut down or explode on you, you take out Sally's resume from your $holder for inspiration. <hr>\ * [[Make up lies.]] * [[Use your supernatural cases.]] </h3>

<h3>After walking by the cars never used by anyone for so long you grow tired of going on foot or being driven by the watchful eye of Arthur who reports everything back to your brother. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> Lately, Sally's been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you and how 'maybe there are better available boys out there' and 'how family relations should be respected.' The former is due to Imre and all the latter is for Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> Lately, Sally's been trying to have the gay talk with you, and how it's best to not give people reason to talk about you more. Which means he thinks you're dating Imre or Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. Also how it would be more publicly comfortable for you if you dressed more like a girl, just to not get people to talk if they mistakenly see two boys together. //Mistakenly.// More and more you feel like it's not a mistake at all. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And the gay talk. He says that two boys being seen together would just bring unwanted attention to you. But... //you're not a boy. Are you?// All this comes from spending so much time with Imre and Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And how maybe as a pretty girl, you can pick better choices. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan. You wanted to correct him, not on the boys but about how he calls you a girl. Something about that has never felt right.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And the gay talk. He says that two boys being seen together would just bring unwanted attention to you. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan. You wanted to correct him, not on the boys but about how he calls you a boy. Something about that has never felt right.<</if>> Apart from your irritation with your actions constantly being watched, you're also tired of being old enough to drive and but knowing how. Sally would throw a fit if he found out that either of the boys were using the family cars so you have two options, either you self-teach or you ask Percy. You choose... <hr>\ * [[To learn by yourself.]] * [[To ask Percy to teach you.]] </h3>

<h3>You sat down one day after school at your desk and opened your $holder face down on your desk. Heavy textbooks tumbled along the wood, stray papers flew off to the floor and pens clanged against the surface. You looked at biology first. A class you share with Imre, although he rarely talks to you in that class. It might be due to shame. Although he does become uber focused on the teacher and his work. “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell $name,” you say to yourself. You flip open the heavy and old biology book to osmosis which is something about water molecules passing through a membrane or some such shit. You fill out the exercise worksheet Mr. Boldoni gives out everyday for marks. Biology is your worst subject so after that one is out of the way you pick a subject you like... <hr>\ * [[History.]] * [[Math.]] * [[English.]] </h3>

<h3>No, it's not the time. You're both freezing and you want to keep it for you in this moment.<<set $L to true>>\ <<if $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ //I'm a boy//, you think and you smile. It doesn't have that same feeling of misstep like being called a girl has. <<set $sibrelation to 'brother'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'son'>> <<set $pronouns to 'he'>> And with this change, does a name change come too? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6][$L to true]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> //I'm a girl//, you think and you smile. It doesn't have that same feeling of misstep like being called a boy has. <<set $sibrelation to 'sister'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'daughter'>> <<set $pronouns to 'she'>> And with this change, does a name change come too? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6][$L to true]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ //I'm me, and that's enough//, you think and you smile. It doesn't have that same feeling of misstep like being called a girl has. <<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'child'>> <<set $pronouns to 'they'>> And with this change, does a name change come too? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6][$L to true]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ //I'm me, and that's enough//, you think and you smile. It doesn't have that same feeling of misstep like being called a boy has. <<set $sibrelation to 'sibling'>> <<set $parentrelation to 'child'>> <<set $pronouns to 'they'>> And with this change, does a name change come too? <hr>\ *<<textbox '$tname' ''>>[[NEXT->T-NAME6][$L to true]] * [[You won't.|T-NAUR4]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You push his hand away, “I don't need toys.” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sister now. I'm $tname, your sister.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace sista.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me brother now. I'm $tname, your brother.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace brotha.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Not anything girly.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-sister.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $tname, your sibling. Not anything boyish.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-brother.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 325]] </h3>

<h3>You push his hand away, “I don't need toys.” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sister now. I'm $name, your sister.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace sista.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me brother now. I'm $name, your brother.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace brotha.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $name, your sibling. Not anything girly.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-sister.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Suit yourself weirdo. This is what I get for being a GREAT brother,” he complains and throws the cassette player back in the box. Then he walks down the stairs. As he sets down the box to open the door you yell out, “I want you call me sibling now. I'm $name, your sibling. Not anything boyish.” Percy doesn't even look back as he opens the door and picks up the box. “Gotta get this shit sold, peace definitely-not-my-brother.” Shaking your head you walk up the stairs to your room. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 325]] </h3>

<h3>//Hey. It's me. You might know me as the one who moves the ends of your earrings. Takes one of your socks. Leaves your drawers open. Hides that hideous leopard print coat that matches none of your outfits, like seriously what were you thinking when you bought that? But I digress. My name is [LOUD SCREECHES, THOUSANDS OF VOICES PLEADING FOR MERCIFUL NOTHINGNESS AS THEIR SKIN FOREVER BURNS IN THE FIERY PITS OF HELL, THE COAT THAT LOOKS LIKE A PERSON IN THE CORNER OF YOUR ROOM WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE OFF] But you can call me Jeff. People have said, 'oh my god. Why Jeff? Jeff the Demon. It's not scary at all.' But have you ever thought that it's scarier when you have a normal sounding name? That was my idea when I first decided to start haunting your house. But in the years that I've been watching you. I've grown fond of you. All the good times we've had like that one time I scared you coming up the stairs, you fell down, cracked your head open and had to be induced into a coma? Ah, memories. Due to my feelings for you I must ask that you please restock your milk more often. The lack of variety in your daily food intake is worrying, I do wonder how your insides have not all come out of that port you have in your behind. I will not lie to you, I really like milk. It makes me feel less evil, perhaps milk can reform a demon. Just think about it. This message was brought to you by The Demon Hiding in Your Sock Drawer in joint association with the Croun Elementary School Board and St. Christopher's Church. Not only demons need milk, but your kids do too.// [[NEXT->Side Quests 3]] </h3>

<h3>''Before the main story begins, would you like to do a side quest? Click on the titles to go to them. Or alternatively forgo them to work on mundane tasks.'' [[''Side Quest 1: My Son's Girlfriend Sucks'']] //Billy's parents think he might lose his soul.// ''Easy.'' [[''Side Quest 2: A Vegetarian'']] //A poor vampire wants to change his ways.// ''Medium.'' [[''Side Quest 3: The Incel'']] //==The one that got away.== The one you want to stay away.// ''Chance.'' [[''Side Quest 4: Mundane Tasks'']] ''If you want to go straight into the episode, click the word NEXT.'' [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>Every time you move, the plastic on the sofa squeaks. It sounds like farts. Somehow the couple across from you gesticulate, sip their tea, reach for things, and hand you things without making a noise. Mr. and Mrs. Walker sent you twenty bucks by mail to help them with their son. Billy Walker is a year younger than you. He's on the swim team and he's a fairly good kid. That is until he met his new girlfriend, who in the eyes of his parents is “going to suck the soul out of our son.” You thought they meant metaphorically. Mrs. Walker hands you a grainy black and white picture of a group of women at the beach in attire that looks from the early years of this century. Mrs. Walker points to the girl at the end of the row. She's staring stony-faced into the camera. Her eyes are so black you feel a coldness rush down your spine as if she was looking at you from a distance of decades. “What is she?” you ask without looking up. “We thought you knew,” Mr. Walker says. You look up, “why?” Mr and Mrs. Walker exchange glances. She replies, “you're the expert aren't you? We've heard how you've been helping people with all kinds of... problems.” Your fame seems to be expanding. Hasn't helped the way people treat you though. “So... can you help us?” Mr. Walker asks. Looking back at the girl, you nod your head. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-1]] </h3>

<h3>Jay's method of reaching you was interesting. It's not like you had been dodging his calls or letters. It's not your fault you have a lot of people clamouring for your attention. Or well, it's not entirely your fault. You have been bad at opening your mail, but it's only because you get so much of it. Well according to Jay you had been ignoring him. And so he decided to just knock on your window. Yes, that window. The one on the second floor. You see Jay is one of those that drinks blood and can't be in sunlight. You were on your bed, listening to music when the hard knock on the window made you almost jump out of your skin. Jay's smiling face floated from behind the glass. It really did look like he was just a disembodied head in the night because his black cloak reached up to his chin. You walk over to the window and push it up. “Hello?” Jay tries to climb in but he's pushed back. “Can you invite me in?” he asks, his sharp fangs glinting in the light of your lamp. “I'm not going to invite a blood drinker into my house,” you state. Jay rolls his eyes but makes no attempt to reenter. “Cool, fine. I just need to talk to you, I really need your help.” You check your watch, it's past midnight. “Does it have to be now?” “It's early,” Jay says in a judgemental tone. “Yeah for you. Us warm-blooded creatures usually need to sleep at this time,” you reply. “You're not sleeping,” he points out. “I said 'need' and sleep is what I'm really needing right now.” Jay looks annoyed but he backs away from your window, “meet me tomorrow then.” Before you can answer, he's somehow disappeared into the blackness of the night. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-5]] </h3>

<h3>Gertrude's eye bags were becoming eye luggages. You don't expect old people to have the best skin, you read somewhere that as you age you lose collogen, that special thing that makes your face feel as soft as a baby's butt. But she looked haggard when she opened the door for you. She still managed to smile though. “Come in dear,” she beckons you. You follow her into her modest townhouse. The place smells of mothballs, honey and cat hair. Sure enough when she invites you to sit down on her floral patterned couch, a cat appears behind you. It saunters atop the back of the couch, eyeing you with its yellow eyes. “That's Petunia,” Gertrude says. “She isn't used to visitors that aren't my kids.” You give Petunia a friendly smile, hoping she won't pounce on you with her long nails. Animals have never liked you that much. “Cookies?” Gertrude asks, holding up the small little plate. It has flowers painted on it but the real eye catcher are the cookies that smell of cinnamon and have delicatedly iced coloured flowers. Heat rolls off of them. You take one and nibble on it. It invigorates your taste buds that have been only eating Mac n' Cheese for too long. As you gobble up the dainty cookie you say in between bites, “so... what can I help with?” Gertrude offers you the plate again and you take it greedily. As you chew she explains, “I have a... suitor that won't leave me alone.” You chew slowly and ask, “ok... isn't this something the police should deal with? Stalkers aren't really my line of expertise.” She shakes her head, “you don't understand. He visits me in my dreams.” [[NEXT->Page SQ6-13]] </h3>

<h3>Hey, remember me? We met briefly, a while ago. I was the one who introduced you to this little town. And then to the hero of our story, whilst they were in the throes of hellish dreams. Well, as our hero sleeps I've come back to tell you another tale. It's a bit strange isn't it? You're the hero, but you're also not. I'm the narrator, but I'm also you. It might be a case of the trinity. Three parts of one whole. Entirely confusing, and if I were one to cuss I would call this a 'mindfuck.' That's what happens when you're watching a show but you're also in the show. But for simplicity's sake, let's just say you're not the hero right now.<<if $tname>> You're not $tname. Nice name by the way, you chose well.<<else>> You're not $name.<</if>> Let's say you're just someone impartial who I am regaling with a story. Let's go back to the year of space disasters, nuclear power disasters and something about coke. __[[1986|Page 360]]__ </h3>

<h3>The gigantic box of the library computer accompanies you as you read up on immortal creatures. It would be quicker and less confusing to use a book but the library is a risky place to go. The librarian only sells her contraband to people she likes and well, you aren't one of them. You thought of asking Imre since he most likely has a collection of illegal books, but then he would want to 'help' you and steal your thunder. And you're perfectly fine with handling things yourself. You didn't have much faith in finding what you needed through the World Wide Web. But you managed to stumble upon a 'site' — that's what Ms. Frida calls these square thingys that take up the monitor screen — with horrible eye-sore animation that acts like a type of encyclopedia of supernatural beings. At first the search was slow going, as the only thing you knew about Billy's girlfriend was that she was ageless and apparently can suck someone's soul out. Turns out many female creatures do that. But given how pretty she looked in her picture, and how enthralled Billy seems to be by her to the point of arguing with his parents, it seems she's a succubus. A she-demon that gets strength from slowly taking the life force out of her victims. Usually men. The 'site' offers no solutions as to how to defeat her. A section at the bottom of the 'site' has comments from 'users' about how lucky the guys who get picked by these demon are. That they would kill for a 'hot babe to suck me if you know what i mean.' Grimacing you exit the site and open your notebook. You decided to write down brief summaries of your cases and brainstorm solutions. Before, you weren't prepared but now you're getting the hang of this. Since you can't figure out how to get rid of this girl, you have to make her not want to be with Billy anymore. You write down three solutions. <hr>\ * [[Make Billy stink.|Page SQ6-2][$solu1 to true]] * [[Make Billy look like a freak.|Page SQ6-2][$solu2 to true]] * [[Go to the witch shop.|Page SQ6-2][$solu3 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $solu1>>\ When you show up with garlic, onions, and mysterious animal droppings — which you aren't that keen to say where you got them from — The Walkers let you in even though they look doubtful of your methods. “So this,” you hold up the garlic, “is the stinkiest garlic in the Pacific Northwest.” Mrs. Walker takes it. “This,” you hold up the onions, “might make you develop a rash so I would use goggles when you cook it.” She takes it. And then you hold up the bag of feces, moving your face away. “I need to go into Billy's room for this one.” Mr. Walker leads you upstairs and quickly departs when he sees that you're opening the baggie. Billy's room is your typical teenage jock boy room. Posters of athletes you don't know the name of, the smell of cologne permeating everywhere and clothes strewn on the furniture. Your feet crunch chips on the carpeted floor. Plugging your nose with your fingers you drop thr hardened shit on the floor. You stomp on them, making sure they really get lost in the fibres of the carpet. You add some to his drawers and even slip one into his pillowcase. [[NEXT|Page SQ6-3]] <<elseif $solu2>>\ The gangly 20-something clerk barely looks up as you browse through the store. Your eyes widen when you see a long, bulgy silicone penis displayed proudly on its own stand. You didn't even know this place existed. And you had to tolerate Percy's mocking jokes and fake threats to tell Sally that you were asking about sex shops before he told you where he went. That made you nauseous. Anyway, this place apparently has everything. You can wish for a certain thing and you'll find an aisle that has it. At times bordering illegal. But honestly you don't know much about any of this to know what is against the law or just plain tasteless. You try to relax your face but each time you move along the aisles you see things that you didn't even know existed nor how they work or where they go. You've never felt more like a virgin. But finally you get to the magazines, a lot of boobs. But from unfortunately having been in Percy's room and his seeing //magazines//, you know that breasts are pretty tame. You need something gross. Nasty. Your eyes land on two magazines. You feel in your pocket and look at the prices in pen. You can only buy one. <hr>\ * [[Something about gorillas.|Page SQ6-3*][$gori to true]] * [[Something about playing around with vomit.|Page SQ6-3*][$vomi to true]] <<elseif $solu3>>\ 'MARTINA'S APOTHECARY' is one of those New Age places where people go to buy the really good type of thyme. Of course it's an open secret that the owner has the tendency to help people in need with minor issues like injuries or cleansing homes. <<if $apothecary>>She has gotten visits from the police before, but somehow she never gets in trouble. From what you remember when you last came here, she was kooky but nice.<<elseif not $apothecary>>She has gotten visits from the police before, but somehow she never gets in trouble.<</if>> The place smells earthy, but with hints of sweetness that sometimes smells like honey and other times sickly like rot. You go over to the counter and ding the tiny little bell. “OH JUST GIVE ME A SECOND HUN!“ a voice immediately answers from somewhere in the back. You try to look into the open door of the back room, but it's filled with so many boxes in disarray and a dangling dusty lightbulb. You tap your fingers on the glass counter and wait. You hear whispered swears and a crash before a woman pushes herself out of the small room. Her bottle eyeglasses reflect the light from the front of the shop so much you can't see her eyes. Her long tangly red hair is adorned with clips and leaves. She smiles when she sees you and holds out her hand. You figure there's no harm and shake her hand, you're surprised by how calloused it feels. <<if $tname>>“$tname Crown, aged 18, born December 17th 1975 which would make you a Sagittarius,” she declares.<<else>>“$name Crown, aged 18, born December 17th 1975 which would make you a Sagittarius,” she declares.<</if>> <<if $apothecary>>You smile, “yeah we met before. A few weeks ago, I came for some protection herbs.” She slaps her forehand, “oh yes! How could I forget? This old noggin' has too much clutter. Do you need refills?” You shake your head. <<elseif not $apothecary>> “Um,” you say with a puzzled expression. She lets go of your hand, “these glasses are very good for sight I'll tell ya.” “I imagine,” you reply. <</if>>\ “So what can I do for you then, hun?” “I need some help with a soul-sucking demon.” [[NEXT|Page SQ6-3]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $solu1>>\ After washing your hands in the bathroom you take one more look at the room and satisfied with your work you say a quick goodbye to the Walkers. With twenty dollars burning a hole in your pocket you stop by Sally's office to take you home as per Imre's instructions. As you're driving home Sally stops mid-sentence and looks down at your leg. You raise your eyebrows and follow his gaze to your leg. Specifically to your pocket, and the damned bill peeking out of it. “I found—“ “Who gave that to you? Was it Percy? You know he steals, don't take things from him,” Sally interrupts quickly. You take out the bill and smooth it on your leg. “Percy didn't give me this.” “Then who?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. If only he knew. But you know already your fledgling business would be forced to close up early if he knew how many laws you're breaking. “I... found it,” you mumble. “You just found a twenty dollar bill on the street?” he asks in disbelief. You had avoided looking at him but you force yourself to stare into his eyes and reply, “yeah.” His narrowed eyes and overall distrustful expression doesn't lessen but he says nothing more. [[NEXT|Page SQ6-4]] <<elseif $solu3>>\ Martina puts a finger to her lips when you say that. Her white circular lenses looking around the shop as if someone is going to pop out of the flower pot. You whisper, “I got hired by the Walkers to get rid of their son's girlfriend.” Martina nods, “what kind is she?” “I'm not completely sure but I think she might be a succubus.” Martina nods again and sucks on her lip as she looks around her shop. She moves out from behind the counter and goes to a series of drawers. Humming, she rifles through them. She stops, looks over her shoulder at you and asks, “repel or banishment?” You raise an eyebrow, “depends on what they both mean.” “Well,” she takes out a tiny vial, “if you get the boy to drink this she won't want to be within a block of him.” You walk over to her and take the bottle in hand. It's small, with dark thick liquid swishing back and forth. “And what about banishment?” Martina leans over and opens another drawer, she takes out a small little pouch. She hands it to you and you open to find a needle. Incredibly thin but remarkably decorated with what you first think are swirls but they have structure to them. It could be words. You look up at Martina. “It poisons the life force she's taking from him. It'll kill her and send her soul back to hell.” You hold the two options. <hr>\ * [[Repel.|Page SQ6-4][$repel to true]] * [[Banishment.|Page SQ6-4][$banish to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $gori>>\ You feel dirty and perverted as you take the magazine cover ― with what you hope are people in gorilla suits and not the actual thing — to the counter. The gangly clerk looks up from his magazine with sleepy eyes. He looks down at your magazine and says, "2.99. We got a special, buy 2 for 5 dollars. Interested?” “Does it have to be the same type of magazine?” you ask. You don't even know why you asked, it's not like you're planning on getting other animal inspired magazines or any magazines at all. <<elseif $vomi>>\ You feel dirty and perverted as you take the magazine cover — with what you hope is just very realistic oatmeal and not someone's lunch— to the counter. The gangly clerk looks up from his magazine with sleepy eyes. He looks down at your magazine and says, "2.99. We got a special buy 2 for five dollars. Interested?” “Does it have to be the same type of magazine?” you ask. You don't even know why you asked you don't think your stomach could handle seeing what other kind of fluids people play with. <</if>> “Nah. Interested?” “Do you have normal magazines?” you ask with a voice that makes you sound like a kid who can't even pronounce 'sex' without blushing. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Miss, we sell porno,” he answers with a tired voice.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Mister, we sell porno,” he answers with a tired voice.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Kid, we sell porno,” he answers with a tired voice.<</if>> “Church is up the street.” You pay for the magazine and hurry out of there. [[NEXT|Page SQ6-4*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $solu1>>\ Two days later you're rushing out of the house to make it to school on time when the phone rings. Distracted by shoving your books into your $holder you say, “uh huh?” <<if $tname>>“$tname? Oh we're so happy to reach you!“<<else>>“$name? Oh we're so happy to reach you!“<</if>> Mrs. Walker's cheery voice says from the other end. “Oh, hi,” you say awkwardly. You hear someone else's voice on the other end. “My husband says that he's very grateful for your work,” she says a bit too loud.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Carrying your $holder you reply, “so your son is single now?” “Yes! He came home heartbroken, saying that she called him disgusting and when he went to her house, she was gone. My poor boy is hurt but we can't hide how much relief we feel that he's safe,” she says. Her husband says something else and she quickly adds, “we won't ever be able to repay you for this! Anything you need don't hesitate to ask!“ //What could you possibly ever need from them?// “Yeah, anytime. Tell your friends if they need some pesky issues to go away I'm at your service,” you state. After many more 'thank yous' you do manage to finally hang up. As you're driven to school you're torn. On one hand it's great that this one was so easy but on the other... you do like a challenge. After school, you convince Arthur to leave you on Main Street. With your twenty dollars you decide to buy... <hr>\ * [[Makeup.|Shop-M]] * [[A book.|Shop][$book to true]] * [[Music.|Shop][$music to true]] <<elseif $repel>>\ “I'm not an asshole, I just need her to leave Billy alone,” you say. You give back the pouch. Martina hums contentedly and stores it. She rings you up and unfortunately you have to use the twenty the Walkers gave you. Shoving the change into your pockets you say, “thanks.” Martina smiles, “you're a very brave child.” “How so?” She gives you a knowing look. “It's a very noble thing but be careful.” She looks at the street through the shop window. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.” You don't respond but say a quick goodbye and make sure no one sees you step out of the shop. You think about asking his parents to slip the liquid into his food but it's best to leave the supernatural stuff to the professionals. Also, townies are more reticent to to participate in things deemed otherwordly. That's why they hired you. The next day at school you lean against the wall outside the boy's locker room and wait until you think no one's in there to slip inside. Of course your plan catches a snag when you realize you don't know which locker is Billy's. They all look the same. Even the clothes, waterbottles and shoes are the same. You don't understand fashion but that sounds rather boring. Fortunately you notice that the some of the boys have their names on their duffel bags or water bottles. Unfortunately, there are two Billys. One with his name on the water bottle and the other with his name on the duffel bag. <hr>\ * [[Water bottle Billy.|Lockerroom][$bottle to true]] * [[Duffel Billy.|Lockerroom][$duffel to true]] <<elseif $banish>>\ “If I just send her somewhere else she'll do this to some other boy,” you say trying to justify the fate you've sentenced her to. For Martina's part, she doesn't give you any indication that she approves or judges your choice. She takes the bottle and stores it while humming a tune. She rings you up and unfortunately you have to use the twenty the Walkers gave you. Shoving the change into your pockets you say, “thanks.” Martina smiles, “you're a very brave child.” “How so?” She gives you a knowing look. “It's a very noble thing but be careful.” She looks at the street through the shop window. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.” You don't respond but say a quick goodbye and make sure no one sees you step out of the shop. You think about asking the Walkers to prick their son but you're not sure they would do it even with the explanation. You also prefer to do things yourself to make sure the job's done properly. So the next day you wait outside the boy's locker room. You hear the regular old rough-housing and loud voices trying to talk over each other. You hold the needle in between your thumb and pointer finger, rubbing it back and forth. You're startled when the locker room door bangs open and the muffled loud voices spring on you like trumpets. The boys are all too busy talking to each other to notice you. You look this way and that for the boy you saw in the family pictures at the Walkers'. Turns out there are more brunette boys than you knew. Fortunately, Billy is one of the tallest boys on the swim team. You catch a glimpse of him and angle your way into the big circle. It's actually quite quick. You aim the needle for his bare arm, it goes right in without resistance and Billy yelps but before he knows it you're backing out of the group and hurrying away. “What the fuck was that?!“ you hear him say as you turn into another hall. [[NEXT->NEEDLE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“You brought books?” You hold the magazine close to your chest. “A magazine. But yes, I think this might work.” “Might?” You shiver as a cold gust of wind hits your behind. Mr. Walker seeing you, moves aside to let you in. Once he closes the door you turn around and hold the magazine behind your back. “You gave me twenty bucks sir. I had to make do.” Mr. Walker looks confused but lets you go upstairs to Billy's room. He leaves you to your devices, his eyes darting to the magazine you're still keeping behind you. Billy's room is your typical teenage jock boy room. Posters of athletes you don't know the name of, the smell of cologne permeating everywhere and clothes strewn on the furniture. Your feet crunch chips on the carpeted floor. You look around. You don't know much about the typical teen boy but from living with Percy you wouldn't think it remiss to believe that many of them have stashes of magazines of this variety somewhere hidden. You look in his drawers. You look under his mattress. You look in his closet. Under his pillow. It's only when you stuck your hand under his bed, is that you feel them. You lay out his magazines and are assaulted with tits everywhere. Many of them are the magazines you saw at the shop. You add it to the top of the pile and make sure the magazines are peeking out from underneath the bed. Feeling oddly dirty you get out of that house as quickly as you can. [[NEXT|Visit]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know what inspired you to do this. You've never put on makeup before. Voluntarily. You don't even know how to apply it. Nor what would look good on your $skin skin. Still, you're here, in front of the Makeup Shop. It's actually just called that. And no, no one seemingly owns it. It just kind of showed up one day. No one knows who turns the OPEN sign every day, who turns on the lights, who stocks, who checks people out or who turns the CLOSED sign at the end of the day. When you push open the door a little bell chimes. The door shuts gently behind you and a few customers look in your direction. You duck your head and beeline for whatever your eyes land on first. Which just so happens to be the eyeshadow table. From the sign it looks like these 'cases' are called 'palettes.' You pick one up at random and open it. Neon colors, the tagline is that it makes your eyes pop. You tilt up the mirror on the table, and focus it on your eyes. No one has ever said your eyes shine. They're notoriously very dull. Lifeless. You know it freaks people out. Maybe you should make them pop? You feel some lady looking at you and you chance a glance at her. She immediately looks down at the blushes. You look around you and you notice that everyone here seems to be similar. Well groomed, painted faces and long nails. You touch your face. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>You're a girl. You're like the rest of them. There's no rule to say who can make themself pretty.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>You're a girl. You're a girl. It doesn't matter if they don't think you are, and you're going to wear makeup.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>You confuse them, they think you're a girl, but now you look more like a boy. Even so, it's not like guys don't wear makeup.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>It's cause you're a boy. You live in a small town after all. But times change and it's not like guys don't wear makeup.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>Who cares? Just cause you aren't a girl doesn't mean makeup is barred from you. It's for everyone.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>Who cares? To them you might look like a boy but you're not and makeup is for everyone.<</if>> You look at the selection of palettes. There's the neon one, there's a brownish one which looks to be more muted for daily wear, a floral inspired one and then a glittery one. <hr>\ * [[The neon one.|Shop-M1][$neone to true]] * [[The brown one.|Shop-M1][$browne to true]] * [[The floral one.|Shop-M1][$florale to true]] * [[The glitter one.|Shop-M1][$glittere to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $book>>\ You could always go to the library but the librarian is kind of creepy and she actively prevents people from being in the library too long. The only place you can get good books in town is the record store. It's a small selection, mostly donations and you'll be lucky to find something written in the last ten years. Even so, you push in the glass door and blink as you adjust to the dim lighting. The owner, Paul, says that the low light “preserves the spirit of the music.” Whatever that means. Still he provides potential buyers with tiny little flashlights to peruse. You take one out from the bin at the entrance and head to the back of the shop. You pass Paul who always has his sunglasses on inside. He's nodding to the stream of melodic music coming out from the speakers. “Hey,” he says briefly in a I'm-a-very-chill-dude tone. You nod at him. The book section is just a series of piles in different heights on a low table. You click on the flashlight and sweep it along the books. Most of them are about music, specifically memoirs from musicians. You pick up one that catches your eyes with its bright yellow cover. On it is a black and white picture of a young woman smiling while looking up, a headshot basically. //''Hilaria Crown.''// You skim a few pages. Fom the little you gather from this self-published book, you had a — great-aunt? — who was a local jazz singer. You've never heard of her. The music through the speakers is making you blink rapidly. The music here has a tendency to 'fuzzy' up your brain a bit where you end up kind of swaying in place for a few hours. You see a boy with spiked dyed green hair a few feet away from you with his eyes closed and swaying, a record in his hand. <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Shop 2][$memo to true]] * [[Pick a book about learning how to play the guitar.|Shop 2][$guitar to true]] * [[Pick a book about learning how to play the piano.|Shop 2][$piano to true]] * [[Pick a book about learning how to play the drums.|Shop 2][$drum to true]] * [[Pick a book about learning how to play the harmonica.|Shop 2][$harmonica to true]] <<elseif $music>>\ Paul's record store is the only music shop in town. It had always had a fair amount of people going inside it, but it became really popular amongst kids your age when Father Simmons waged a public war against Paul for selling 'devil music'. Father Simmons and his supporters stood outside the doors with signs for three days and three nights protesting loudly and harassing anyone who went inside. Paul eventually drew some pentagrams on the window and the crowd dispersed. But really it wasn't even that Paul had great music. He was usually years late to what was in. He had albums from old great stars but it was usually the least liked albums of famous musicians. Anyway, you push in the glass door and blink as you adjust to the dim lighting. The owner, Paul, says that the low light “preserves the spirit of the music.” Whatever that means. Still he provides potential buyers with tiny little flashlights to peruse. You pass Paul who always has his sunglasses on inside. He's nodding to the stream of melodic music coming out from the speakers. “Hey,” he says briefly in a-very-chill-dude tone. You nod at him. <<if not $cassy>>\ You go into a random section, and click on your flashlight. Your lack of music knowledge makes you not understand what you're looking at. You squint and get really close to the records. You recognize someone. That blond lady who wore that pink dress. You're in the pop section. You don't a record player so really you couldn't even play these. But for fuck's sake you're already here. The music here has a tendency to 'fuzzy' up your brain a bit where you end up kind of swaying in place for a few hours. You see a boy with spiked dyed green hair a few feet away from you with his eyes closed and swaying, a record in his hand. You grab a random record of... <<elseif $cassy>>\ You go into a random section, head to the bin of cassettes and click on your flashlight. Your lack of music knowledge makes you not understand what you're looking at. You squint and get really close to the records. You recognize someone. That blond lady who wore that pink dress. You dig your hand in and randomly look for anything that looks promising. You can't listen to the cassette from the cassette player Percy gave you forever. The music here has a tendency to 'fuzzy' up your brain a bit where you end up kind of swaying in place for a few hours. You see a boy with spiked dyed green hair a few feet away from you with his eyes closed and swaying, a record in his hand. You grab a random cassette of... <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[A pop artist.|Shop 2][$musict to true]] * [[Nature sounds.|Shop 2][$musict to true]] * [[Grunge? Maybe Paul's getting modernized.|Shop 2][$musict to true]] * [[Sad brunette women music.|Shop 2][$musict to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $bottle>>\ You take the water bottle and using your teeth you take out the stopper of the glass bottle containing the mysterious liquid. You shake the contents in. It's viscous, so it goes in slowly. You're grateful that the water bottle is black, so that he won't see it's been tampered with. The door to the pool opens and you quickly screw the water bottle shut, lay it as it was, and hurry out of there. You're nervous the whole ride home. What if he immediately notes the taste and throws it out? What if the Walkers spill the beans, and Billy sends his psycho girlfriend after you to suck out your soul? Well, you'll just have to see who calls you tonight. [[NEXT->Lockerroom 1]] <<elseif $duffel>>\ You sit on the bench, put the heavy duffel bag on your lap and unzip it. The smell of old socks nearly makes you throw the bag on the ground. Plugging your nose you look through the bag for what you can contaminate. You find a tupperware and open it to see a perfectly boring salad inside. You hear the noises of the boys from the other side of the door leading to the pool room. You take off the bottle stopper with your teeth, and pour it over the spinach and croutons. Hopefully he'll just think it's dressing. The door to the pool opens and you quickly close the tupperware, throw it in the bag, and hurry out of there. You're nervous all the ride home. What if he immediately notes the taste and throws it out? What if the Walkers spill the beans and Billy sends his psycho girlfriend after you to suck out your soul? Well, you'll just have to see who calls you tonight. [[NEXT->Lockerroom 2]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Two days later you're rushing out of the house to make it to school on time when the phone rings. Distracted by shoving your books into your $holder you say, “uh huh?” <<if $tname>>“$tname? Oh we're so happy to reach you!“<<else>>“$name? Oh we're so happy to reach you!“<</if>> Mrs. Walker's cheery voice says from the other end. “Oh, hi,” you say awkwardly. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> You hear someone else's voice on the other end. “My husband says that he's very grateful for your work,” she says a bit too loud. Carrying your $holder you reply, “so your son is single now?” “Yes! He came home heartbroken, saying that his girlfriend wasn't home, that all of her stuff was gone,” she says. You get a brief picture in your mind's eye of the fiery pits of hell and tortured screams. You did that. You sentenced her to an eternity of torture. You push that thought and the feelings it brings away. Her husband says something else and she quickly adds, “we won't ever be able to repay you for this! Anything you need don't hesitate to ask!“ //What could you possibly ever need from them?// “Yeah, anytime. Tell your friends if they need some pesky issues to go away I'm at your service,” you state. After many more 'thank yous' you do manage to finally hang up. As you're driven to school you're torn. On one hand it's great that this one was so easy but on the other... you do like a challenge. After school, you convince Arthur to leave you on Main Street. With your twenty dollars you decide to buy... <hr>\ * [[Makeup.|Shop-M]] * [[A book.|Shop][$book to true]] * [[Music.|Shop][$music to true]] </h3>

<h3>You throw your damp towel on the desk chair and grab Inferno to lay down with to hopefully fall asleep at a reasonable hour. You're on Canto VII, much more advanced than your classmates because you always read the book before bed. The tap of the tree branch on your window is a distant background noise. Soothing, almost. Tap, tap, tap, tap Dante is meeting the greedy. They are so consumed by it that they can't see beyond themselves. Tap, tap, tap, tap Have you ever felt greed? Not for money. There was never any use for it. Tap, tap, tap, tap But you've seen it. You've seen how greedy people can get for beauty. It makes them blind to others— Someone's looking at you. .... The taps stop. Hardly ever do. Especially in this weather. But someone is looking at you from the window. You can feel it. The taps start again but they feel sharp. Like long nail gently tapping against the glass. You put the book down and slowly glide your eyes along your room. They stop for a second before they reach the window. But it's enough to see. Long black hair curls as if it had a life of its own up the window. The window starts creeping up. <hr>\ * [[Run to close it.|Visit 2][$window to true]] * [[Stay where you are.|Visit 2]] </h3>

<h3><<if $window>>\ You push off the bed, run to the window and try to force it down. But the window keeps sliding up. You strain against the strength from whatever is outside, but it makes a hot pain go up your arms and down your back. You grunt and bare your teeth as you use whatever muscle you have to force it down. They giggle. A feminine giggle. And then the window slides up completely and the cold autumn air pushes in. You're forced to move back as a black mass slides into your room. <<elseif not $window>>\ You move your eyes down to your hands. Your heart pounds as you hear the telltale sign of your window being pushed up. It makes a horrible squeaking sound. The cold autumn air creeps in as from the corner of your eye you see a black mass slide into your room. <</if>>\ You can't see what for a few seconds. Its body crouched low, its long black hair hiding its face. It lets out a breath of air. For some reason you feel a cold so penetrating it makes you shiver. Far colder than the weather outside. The figure straightens up and pushes her straight shiny hair back. A girl. Seemingly around your age. A girl who looks identical to the girl in the picture the Walkers showed you. She unzips her coat. Loosens her scarf and pushes her hair back. She looks around your room. Eyes not truly focusing on anything. Only after making a tour around the room does she look at you. She almost smiles. “Clare,” she says in a strange accent. Your muscles tense. You don't know what you could use as a weapon. “And you're the annoying brat who Billy's parents contacted to get me away from their precious boy,” she says that last part in a high pitched imitation of Mrs. Walker's voice. “I—“ “I've done this before. Meddling humans always say the same thing when I catch them. 'I didn't mean to.' Or 'I'm sorry.' As if the offence wasn't already had,” she interrupts. You blink. Your throat feels parched. She slowly takes off one glove. “I'm mostly offended because you thought I'd be stupid enough to fall for your little porn trick.” <<if $window>>\ You take another step back and hit your bed. <<elseif not $window>>\ You sit up. Your fingers curling. <</if>>\ “What did you do to them?” you ask. “The Walkers.” Clare smiles, taking off her other glove. “Nothing. My 'boyfriend' wouldn't like it if I drained the life out of his parents and I prefer to have a steady and reliable supply of energy. Those parents of his barely needed convincing to tell me who you were.” You wonder what would happen if you yelled. Could someone get here in time? Would it matter? “I wouldn't do that,” she says, seeming to read your thoughts. She walks over to you slowly, you could say seductively. <<if $window>>\ You land on your bed and slowly back away. “I do like it when they fight,” she states cheerfully. Before you can move back she grabs your ankle. <<elseif not $window>>\ You try to slide off your bed but she quickly throws herself on the bed and you freeze. Before you can do anything else she grabs your ankle. <</if>>\ She smiles brightly at you, “I won't kill you. But to show you not to fuck with me again and as payment for making me waste a night here with you I'll need just a little //taste.//“ <hr>\ * [[Let it happen.|Visit 3][$yum to true]] * [[Fight.|Visit 3]] </h3>

<h3><<if $yum>>\ You realize it's pointless. She's a supernatural being. She's stronger. You wouldn't even make it to the door before she pulled you back. You sigh and relax your body. Clare notes this and grins enticingly. You let her push you down onto the bed, her hand flat on your chest. She nudges your knees close and straddles you. Leaning down you're overwhelmed by the scent of cherry blossoms. It's overpowering. It snakes into your nose and makes your head feel light. She tilts your head up, bringing her cold nails to your lips. You can feel her warm breath on your face. It smells of sweetness. It will taste good. You close you eyes and await her kiss. You wait for it. The suctioning. The literal feeling of having your soul pulled out of your body. The feeling of not being able to breathe. Like you're dying. From what you read it feels good. It feels delicious. And wait. After several seconds of waiting you crack open an eye and see Clare on top of you, a puzzled look on her face. Her cold hand slides away your neck. She moves off of you. You sit up and follow her with your eyes. She saunters to the window, her sultry walk replaced by a quick urgency in her step. She throws a leg out the window but stops and darts a look at you. “What the fuck are you?” You don't reply, but she talks anyway. “That buzzing inside of you—“ she cuts herself off and presses her mouth shut. Then she slips out of the window. <<elseif not $yum>>\ You aim a kick at her face and she swiftly dodges it. You try to get up but she slaps you across the face and throws you down on the mattress. Your face stings and you try to move away but she keeps you down with a hand to your chest. Grinning over you she says, “I love fighters. They make it taste so much better. It feels like little pops of flavour on my tongue.” She tilts your head up, bringing her cold nails to your lips. You press your lips closed and try to turn your face away. She chuckles. “Aw, poor baby. Do you really not want this?” She glides a cold thin hand along your neck. “A kiss from one of my kind will feel unlike anything you will ever feel in your life. It'll feel //so// good.” You shake your head and refuse to look at her. She lets out a breath of air that sounds like a sigh of disbelief. You see her in your periphery, see how she leans down, forces your lips to align with hers and moves in. You wait for it. The suctioning. The literal feeling of having your soul pulled out of your body. The feeling of not being able to breathe. Like you're dying. But she moves back. She sits on top of you and just looks at you. You meet her gaze and she looks... puzzled. Her cold hand slides away your neck. She moves off of you. You sit up and follow her with your eyes. She walks to the window. Her saltry walk replaced by a quick urgency in her step. She throws leg out the window but stops and hastens a look at you. “What the fuck are you?” You don't reply, but she talks anyway. “That buzzing inside of you—“ she cuts herself off and presses her mouth shut. Then she slips out of the window. <</if>> [[NEXT->Visit 4]] </h3>

<h3>You bring your hand to your throat. You can feel your heartbeat pound within it. You let out a sigh. Not knowing what just happened, you get up and shut the window. You sit back down on the edge of your bed mechanically. You press a hand to you chest. You feel apart from your heart. °°°°°° You don't contact the Walkers again but they do try and get in touch with you. They leave voicemails, pleading with you to help them, asking for your forgiveness, saying that Billy is more in love than ever and that he has plans to go off to college with her. You ignore them. The events of Clare's visit and what she said are enough to keep you away from that family. You see Clare one more time. As you're leaving school. Billy practically runs to her. She smiles at him and they kiss. You stop and stare not caring how strange it looks. Her eyes snap open and they stare into yours. She breaks the kiss and links her arm with Billy's pulling him away from the school. If you aren't mistaken, her pace is quicker than it should be. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>After dinner, you're in your room trying to hobby your way out of overthinking when the phone rings downstairs. You spring out of bed and rush down to the first floor. You see Percy grabbing the handset and you throw him out of the way. “What the fuck—“ “Shut up,” you whisper furiously and lift the handset. “Hello, Crown Manor.” “Yeah is this the asshole who my parents hired to fuck with my girlfriend?” a male voice says on the other end. Oh. “Uh, no,” you lie. <<if $tname>>Billy huffs into the handset. “Well send a message for me, tell $tname to get their big ass nose outta my fucking business!“<<elseif>>Billy huffs into the handset. “Well send a message for me, tell $tname to get their big ass nose outta my fucking business!“<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You move the handset away from your ear as he starts ranting at you. Something, something, something, //'tell her that her ass is grass if my girlfriend finds out'// and something, something, something //'leave me the fuck alone!'//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You move the handset away from your ear as he starts ranting at you. Something, something, something, //'tell him that his ass is grass if my girlfriend finds out'// and something, something, something //'leave me the fuck alone!'//<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>You move the handset away from your ear as he starts ranting at you. Something, something, something, //'tell them that their ass is grass if my girlfriend finds out'// and something, something, something //'I'm even nice enough to use those weird ass pronouns so tell them to leave me the fuck alone!'//<</if>> Then he hangs up the phone with what you presume is a bang. You gently set the handset down and look to see Percy leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Who the hell was that?” “Since when do you care about my life?”<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “You're right... I don't!“ he says cheerfully and walks away. “But Sally will, so get yourself a pager or some shit Crazypants.” And that was that. Billy and his girlfriend were publicly very lovey-dovey at school the next day, and he's noticeably looking paler and thinner. But you tried your best. You can't save those that don't want to be saved. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>After dinner, you're in your room trying to hobby your way out of overthinking when the phone rings downstairs. You spring out of bed and rush down to the first floor. You see Percy grabbing the handset and you throw him out of the way. “What the fuck—“ “Shut up,” you whisper furiously and lift the handset. “Hello, Crown Manor.” “Yeah is this the asshole who my parents hired to fuck with my girlfriend?” a male voice says on the other end. Oh. “Uh, no,” you lie. <<if $tname>>Billy clears his nose. “Well tell $tname congrats.”<<else>>Billy clears his nose. “Well tell $name congrats.”<</if>> “For what?” you ask tentatively. “FOR MAKING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE GO AWAY!“ he shouts into the handset. You move the handset away from your ear as he starts alternatively ranting and crying. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I don't fucking hit girls but tell her that the next time I see her I'm going to throw her down the fucking stairs—“ he gets cut off and the other end crackles.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Tell that dickhead that the next time I see him I'm going to throw him down the fucking stairs—“ he gets cut off and the other end crackles.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Tell that they/them/thou whatever the fuck that the next time I see them I'm going to throw them down the fucking stairs—“ he gets cut off and the other end crackles.<</if>> You hear shouting and what sounds like something breaking. “Hello?” Mrs. Walker's voice appears on the other end. “Hi,” you say awkwardly.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> <<if $tname>>“Oh it's you $tname. I'm so sorry for this. Billy is upset and he doesn't know— BILLY SETTLE DOWN!“ she screams.<<else>>“Oh it's you $name. I'm so sorry for this. Billy is upset and he doesn't know— BILLY SETTLE DOWN!“ she screams.<</if>> “What I wanted to say is thank you and that Billy won't do anything to yo— oh for christ's sake!“ she says and hangs up the phone. You gently set the handset down and look to see Percy leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Who the hell was that?” “Since when do you care about my life?” “You're right... I don't!“ he says cheerfully and walks away. “But Sally will, so get yourself a pager or some shit Crazypants.” And that was that. Billy didn't throw you down any stairs the next day, at school but he did throw you stares that could kill. On the plus side, he was looking much more lively. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>You dig your finger into the palette and rub it amateurishly to your eyelid. You pick up the mirror and look at yourself. It's sloppy work. You look like a child playing dress up. You feel like a child playing dress up. Sighing, you rub at your eye, annoyed. “It just takes practice, dear.” You look to see the old lady who was looking at you before say that from the table of blushes. Unused to people talking to you so abruptly you're at a loss for words so you just try to smile. “Do you need help?” she asks. You don't know what to say and she takes that as a yes, she shuffles over with her big purse and sets it on the table, scattering a few palettes on the floor. A few customers grimace at her but she pays them no mind. She takes the palette out of your hands rather aggressively and grips your chin to force your face to tilt down. She swirls her veiny finger into one of the squares and then swipes at your eyelid. In this position you can acutely smell her breath, old people just smell like mothballs. She moves to your other eyelid. She practically pushes your eyeball in but before you can complain she moves back and looks from one eye to the other. “Now that is what I call striking,” she says with a smile that shows how her red lipstick has stained her teeth. “Look at yourself, dear.” You take the mirror and lift it up to eye-level. And what difference does a professional make. Your $eyecolor eyes, as lifeless as they are, seem to be almost energized under the color. You let out a breath of air. You look to the old lady and say, “um, thanks.” She nods. “I remember when I first started I didn't know blush was for your cheeks! Can you believe that?” You smile. The old lady shuffles away and you fish in your pockets for your money. When you get home, you spend the rest of the day practicing applying your makeup. It ends with your eyelids very tender but at least you can see some progress. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $memo>>\ It probably won't be anything but a series of disturbing life stories, a usual thing with your family. At least it will make for good entertainment. <<elseif $guitar>>\ It'd be nice to learn an instrument. <<elseif $piano>>\ It'd be nice to learn an instrument. <<elseif $drum>>\ It'd be nice to learn an instrument. <<elseif $harmonica>>\ It'd be nice to learn an instrument. <<elseif $musict>>\ Hopefully it isn't a waste of three dollars. <</if>>\ You go to the cash register and wait for Paul to speed walk across the shop. He grabs the bill you hand over and then pauses, leaning in a bit to look you in the eyes. Well, as much as he can with those shades. “Heyyyyyyyyy you're that one... you like left huh?” “What?” you ask. Paul opens the register, starts counting your change with his finger. “You're like the one who went crazy right? Didn't your sister die? Where did you go? I thought you were like arrested or something.” You take your change from him and say, “or something.” “Strange times though. Bunch of people going missing. It's like scary but no one talks about it. That's what's wrong with this town y'know?” he looks out into the street. “No one says nothing.” You take give him a look and leave him in his world. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>It was a night that every child dreads. Well, if you're someone as accomplished as Imre Duran or Nia Mir, this night is met with satisfaction or boredom. But for most kids parent-teacher night was one of the worst days of the year. It usually meant that when you get home you're getting an ear twist, grounded, sent to bed early, or all of the above. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>For our heroine it was a bad night.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>For our hero it was a bad night.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>For our hero — back then known by that other gender but now for clarity and because as the narrator can do whatever I want we will refer to them by their chosen gender even if the people involved didn't refer to him correctly — it was a bad night.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>For our heroine — back then known by that other gender but now for clarity and because as the narrator can do whatever I want we will refer to them by their chosen gender even if the people involved didn't refer to her correctly — it was a bad night.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>For our hero — back then known by that other gender but now for clarity and because as the narrator can do whatever I want we will refer to them by their chosen gender even if the people involved didn't refer to them correctly — it was a bad night.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>For our hero — back then known by that other gender but now for clarity and because as the narrator can do whatever I want we will refer to them by their chosen gender even if the people involved didn't refer to them correctly — it was a bad night.<</if>> <<if $tname>>Setting aside that unpleasant business with the boy with the scarf, or the one time with the girl who sat next to $tname, or that Christmas incident with that other girl who threw a snowball at $tname— anyway, the gist is more than clear.<<else>>Setting aside that unpleasant business with the boy with the scarf, or the one time with the girl who sat next to $name, or that Christmas incident with that other girl who threw a snowball at $name— anyway, the gist is more than clear.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ Our heroine knew that her marks left something to be desired. She wasn't the brightest in her class. Sometimes she didn't even hand in her homework. Mrs. Girabaldi was her math teacher and she had been talking to her father for ten minutes. Longer than other teachers were speaking to other parents. She knew what an earful she would get when her father was done. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Our hero knew that his marks left something to be desired. He wasn't the brightest in his class. Sometimes he didn't even hand in his homework. Mrs. Girabaldi was his math teacher and she had been talking to his father for ten minutes. Longer than other teachers were speaking to other parents. He knew what an earful he would get when his father was done. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ Our hero knew that their marks left something to be desired. They weren't the brightest in their class. Sometimes they didn't even hand in their homework. Mrs. Girabaldi was their math teacher and she had been talking to their father for ten minutes. Longer than other teachers were speaking to other parents. They knew what an earful they would get when their father was done. <</if>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ She looked around. At the groups of parents with their children. At kids running around and playing with each other. She was alone in a sea of noise. She wanted Nia here. Nia would make her feel better. Her father wouldn't yell in front of Nia. But her best friend had not separated from the doctor this whole time. She could tell Nia's parent-teacher interviews were going far better. Nia and her father were speeding through the teachers and the teachers themselves were all smiling at her. Nia smiled back, barely. Our heroine could tell Nia was annoyed. Every once in a while Nia and her would chance glances and Nia would smile slightly, but briefly. She wrapped her arms around herself. The sun was going down and the conferences were being held in the parking lot where people could get snacks and juice at the tables. She wondered if she could just leave. Yes, her father would be angry but she could handle that later, right now she didn't want to be here. That feeling mounted when she heard the unmistakable laughter of her sister. Orla was directly across from her. She was surrounded by her friends, truly in the middle. All the little girls aimed to catch her attention and she barely paid them mind, focusing on herself. She was growing tall, her body thin. The figure of a ballerina. Her posture was always prim and proper. She stood at attention. It made her look important. Of course there was in imperfection on her leg. A new edition. The limp was barely noticeable. Orla, was giggling when she meets her sister's eyes. She scowled and our heroine looks away, not realizing she had been staring. She didn't know how this happened but her sister hated her. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ He looked around. At the groups of parents with their children. At kids running around and playing with each other. He was alone in a sea of noise. He wanted Nia here. Nia would make him feel better. His father wouldn't yell in front of Nia. But his best friend had not separated from the doctor this whole time. He could tell Nia's parent-teacher interviews were going far better. Nia and her father were speeding through the teachers and the teachers themselves were all smiling at her. Nia smiled back, barely. Our hero could tell Nia was annoyed. Every once in a while Nia and he would chance glances and Nia would smile slightly, but briefly. He wrapped his arms around himself. The sun was going down. The conferences were being held in the parking lot, where people could get snacks and juice at the tables. He wondered if he could just leave. Yes, his father would be angry but he could handle that later, right now he didn't want to be here. That feeling mounted when he heard the unmistakable laughter of his sister. Orla was directly across from him. She was surrounded by her friends, truly in the middle. All the little girls aimed to catch her attention and she barely paid them mind, focused on herself. She was growing tall, her body thin. The figure of a ballerina. Her posture was always prim and proper. She stood at attention. It made her look important. Of course there was in imperfection on her leg. A new edition. The limp was barely noticeable. Orla was giggling when she met her brother's eyes. She scowled and our hero looked away, not realizing he had been staring. He didn't know how this happened but his sister hated him. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ They looked around. At the groups of parents with their children. At kids running around and playing with each other. They were alone in a sea of noise. They wanted Nia here. Nia would make them feel better. Their father wouldn't yell in front of Nia. But their best friend had not separated from the doctor this whole time. They could tell Nia's parent-teacher interviews were going far better. Nia and her father were speeding through the teachers and the teachers themselves were all smiling at her. Nia smiled back, barely. Our hero could tell Nia was annoyed. Every once in a while Nia and them would chance glances and Nia would smile slightly, but briefly. They wrapped their arms around themself. The sun was going down. The conferences were being held in the parking lot. where people could get snacks and juice at the tables. They wondered if they could just leave. Yes, their father would be angry but they could handle that later, right now they didn't want to be here. That feeling mounted when he heard the unmistakable laughter of their sister. Orla was directly across from them. She was surrounded by her friends, truly in the middle. All the little girls aimed to catch her attention and she barely paid them mind, focused on herself. She was growing tall, her body thin. The figure of a ballerina. Her posture was always prim and proper. She stood at attention. It made her look important. Of course there was an imperfection on her leg. A new edition. The limp was barely noticeable. Orla was giggling when she met her sibling's eyes. She scowled and our hero looked away, not realizing they had been staring. They didn't know how this happened but their sister hated them. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 361]] </h3>

<h3>But that's not important now. <<if $tname>>$tname feels adrift.<<else>>$name feels adrift.<</if>><<if $pronouns is 'she'>> She felt like her own little island, small and insignificant. Overshadowed by the much larger and lively islands surrounding her. But she's not the only one. The blond boy, shorter than her stood near a taller, hulkier figure.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> He felt like his own little island, small and insignificant. Overshadowed by the much larger and lively islands surrounding him. But he's not the only one. The blond boy, shorter than him stood near a taller, hulkier figure.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> They felt like their own little island, small and insignificant. Overshadowed by the much larger and lively islands surrounding them. But they're not the only one. The blond boy, shorter than them stood near a taller, hulkier figure.<</if>> He's pale, even in the rare dying sunlight. His clothes seemed too big on him, and he gripped his bicep with the hand on his other arm, looking displaced. Lorcan's mother was equally as birdlike. She made a funny contrast with her husband. She could be said to be beautiful in a toneless way, while her husband was rough edges and sandpaper. <<if $tname>>Something itched in the back of $tname's mind. Something about Mrs. Stark<<else>>Something itched in the back of $name's mind. Something about Mrs. Stark<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>bothered her. She just couldn't place it.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>bothered him. He just couldn't place it.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>bothered them. They just couldn't place it.<</if>> <<if $tname>>As $tname watched Lorcan and his parents seemingly repel others from coming near them,<<else>>As $name watched Lorcan and his parents seemingly repel others from coming near them,<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>she felt the tips of her fingers tingle. //Oh no,// she thought. //Not here.//<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>he felt the tips of his fingers tingle. //Oh no,// he thought. //Not here.//<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>they felt the tips of their fingers tingle. //Oh no,// they thought. //Not here.//<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ She shoved her hands into her pockets, hoping it was just a phantom sensation. She had read about those. Because sometimes she did feel tingly on her feet or her hands and she would shiver from what was to come. But it turned out sometimes your body does weird things, sometimes it falls asleep. She wanted that to be the case now. The static sensation crawled up her wrists. //We've seen her before haven't we?//, the voice from the dark said from somewhere both near and far. She thought of leaving. She could easily slip away before... before what? <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping it was just a phantom sensation. He had read about those. Because sometimes he did feel tingly on his feet or his hands and he would shiver from what was to come. But it turned out sometimes your body does weird things, sometimes it falls asleep. He wanted that to be the case now. The static sensation crawled up his wrists. //We've seen her before haven't we?//, the voice from the dark said from somewhere both near and far. He thought of leaving. He could easily slip away before... before what? <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ They shoved their hands into their pockets, hoping it was just a phantom sensation. They had read about those. Because sometimes they did feel tingly on their feet or their hands and they would shiver from what was to come. But it turned out sometimes your body does weird things, sometimes it falls asleep. They wanted that to be the case now. The static sensation crawled up their wrists. //We've seen her before haven't we?//, the voice from the dark said from somewhere both near and far. They thought of leaving. They could easily slip away before... before what? <</if>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>It does stand to question whether our dear protagonist truly feared what she could do when the buzzing took over. Whether she let it happen or not?<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>It does stand to question whether our dear protagonist truly feared what he could do when the buzzing took over. Whether he let it happen or not?<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>It does stand to question whether our dear protagonist truly feared what they could do when the buzzing took over. Whether they let it happen or not?<</if>> If you asked me, the omnipresent narrator, I would say that... <hr>\ * [[The voice was welcomed with open arms.|Page 362][$acceptance to true]] * [[The voice was rejected and fought against.|Page 362][$denial to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $grades>>\ You had spent a little over a week working on your homework, handing things in on time and actually studying. Turns out most of the things you're being taught are easier to understand than you thought. You guess you like the routine. It solidifies a life that has constantly been in turmoil. It's also senior year, apparently colleges look at this year when deciding to accept you or not. You'll never be a genius. But you're at a B- average. Apart from schoolwork, investigation work you've also found some time to... <<elseif $university>>\ You've continued your search for universities not really fully committing to applying until you find yourself taking an applications from the guidance office. The guidance counselor looked like she'd seen a ghost when you wondered in and asked what makes a good application and financial aid. She told you that you could apply for scholarships but for that you would have to write essays. You sat at yout desk and spent hours writing and rewriting a version of your life story that doesn't sound as bad as it looks. After you were done you looked over at the universities that intrigued you. The four from last time seemed to you the best options. Even so, you hesitate and leave the applications on your desk for the time being. Apart from university research, investigation work you've also found some time to... <<elseif $resume>>\ You did try to apply to jobs in town. But most people got one look at you and told you they weren't hiring even when the sign outside clearly said something else. Others asked for references from previous employers and you couldn't do that. So you stopped your search, even though you could use the cash to at least get a decent meal for dinner instead of macaroni. Perhaps when you graduate and maybe leave your resume will actually be given a chance. Apart from job search, investigation work you've also found some time to... <<elseif $drive>>\ You've been diligent with your driving lessons. Every day you try to get in the car for at least thirty minutes. You aren't great with backing up but at least you don't hit anything. You're turning could be better and you aren't ready to go onto the road but you're making some progress. You're pretty sure Percy knows you've been using the car. Last night over dinner he made a few comments about possible thiefs trying to get into them all while giving you a mischievous grin. You did your best to look innocent. He hasn't told Sally yet. Apart from driving lessons, investigation work you've also found some time to... <<elseif $driveP>>\ You've been diligent with your driving lessons. Every day you try to get in the car for at least thirty minutes. Percy always grumbles when you knock on his door. You could be in the car for an hour but it takes thirty minutes for him to come out. You're making quick progress. Percy hasn't taken you out on the road again but you can back up, turn and he's been using other cars to try to get you to learn parallel parking which hasn't been successful yet. You expected him to make indirect remarks to Sally while you're present but he doesn't. He still wears his helmet and farts every time you fuck up, refusing to let you put the windows down. Apart from driving lessons, investigation work you've also found some time to... <</if>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaning the house.]] * [[Finding your style.]] </h3>

<h3>You wake up one morning with the need to change things around you. You're tired of looking at the same damn things that have little to no value for you everyday. It's your room. It should be to your liking. You first start by actually cleaning it, clothes lie strewn in places they shouldn't, you trip on your shoes and there's a strange smell you don't know from where it's coming from. You've been so busy lately that you haven't noticed the state of it. Next, you look at the walls. Sally wouldn't let you paint them, the walls are “sacred“ in this house, artifacts like the chandelier. It would take too much time anyway. But at the very least you can find some things in the attic to decor it to your liking. For your room you decide... <hr>\ * [[To have more posters and darker colors. Edgy. Grunge.|Room][$edgy to true]] * [[To have more light and pastel colors. Cheery. Feminine.|Room][$cheery to true]] * [[To have more darkness and reds. Vampiric. Gothic.|Room][$vampy to true]] * [[To have a more coziness and browns. Vintage.|Room][$vintage to true]] </h3>

<h3>To be quite frank, the house looks like shit. The other day you were walking in the main lobby and your foot went through the floor, luckily you were wearing shoes. There's cobwebs everywhere. You find animal droppings in corners. The banister for the staircase has lost several columns. Lights flicker randomly. You hear rats in the walls. And not to mention the ever-growing mold. You can't do much about the state of most of the house but you can make it look less like a crypt. You start off with brooming and mopping with a broom and mop that have seen better days. You dust shelves, picture frames and corners. And looking at the most pressing issues you try to mollify by... <hr>\ * [[Putting rat poison everywhere.|Clean][$rat to true]] * [[Try to get rid of some mold.|Clean2][$mold to true]] * [[Change all the lightbulbs.|Clean3][$bulbs to true]] </h3>

<h3>You have tried to more or less go to school put-together. It wasn't hard to look better than you normally did before. But you feel like you want to put more effort. You want to really know what you like and what looks good on you. You find your sister's old magazines in the attic and flip through them. Most of are from a few years ago so they're slightly out of style. But some styles are timeless so you pick and choose what you like and what fits who you are becoming. You could be more preppy. Your sister was. You would look like you got it figured out. It would mean looking effortlessly groomed. You could be more like you're roleplaying a band member from a Seattle group who plays at grimey clubs at 2 a.m. It would make you look like the kids who stand in front of the school and smoke. You could aim for function. Jeans, good shoes like converse and boots, clean minimal shirts and quality coats and jackets. Simple yet affective for your life. You could be more girly. Dresses, purses, headbands, short heels, jewelry and light makeup. A complete 180 but maybe that's a good thing. So... <hr>\ * [[You'll be a prep.|Style][$preppy to true]] * [[You'll be grungy.|Style1][$grunge to true]] * [[You'll be simple yet stylish.|Style2][$function to true]] * [[You'll be girly.|Style-GI1][$girly to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $edgy>>\ Percy went through an alternative phase a few years ago. After that was done he just threw his posters in the attic. You've seen how the goth kids at school get particularly anal about who is considered a fan. You haven't listened to most of these bands but you don't care much about that either. You change the bedding, the pillows, drag in a ratty old dusty rug. You unload cassettes a top your dresser and use a black marker to color the oxidized metal of your mirror. It's not much but when on a budget... And it feels yours. Feels like you. <<elseif $vampy>>\ You don't know what constitues gothic music and even if you did you don't have posters to match so you do the next best thing and steal the annoucements for local goth bands stapled to light posts and tape them to your walls. You throw a sheer piece of red fabric onto your lamp, find an old reddish rug with black accents to drag into your room and draw small little spiders onto your mirror with a marker. You take the used candles in forgotten corners of the house. It's not much but when on a budget... And it feels yours. Feels like you. <<elseif $cheery>>\ You replace the window blinds with a see-through curtain. You use air freshners to make the room smell like lilacs. You change your bedding to a light baby blue color. You cut away at the vines growing on the walls of the manor and drape them atop your mirror. You find more lamps and dust them off, lightening them up to make sure nearly all the room is brightened. You grab the most kitschy posters that you can find in the attic. It's not much but when on a budget... And it feels yours. Feels like you. <<elseif $vintage>>\ The good thing about your family is that you people never throw things away so you had an entire attic to use at your disposal for a vintage feel. You bring in old gilded mirrors, photographs in old photo frames of relatives you don't know, and dried up flowers. You find candle-holders and records. Even a small radio that no longer works. Clocks and porcelain angels. A huge rug that has loose threads and raises dust when you first throw it on the floor. Probably has some bedbugs but hey, it gets the atmosphere right. Why can you do when on budget? And it feels yours. Feels like you. <</if>> Did you do anything else? <hr>\ * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[Found your style.|Finding your style.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know if rat poison expires but there's not much you can do, Sally wouldn't give you the money. He thinks that's the job of the help. You find an old box in one of the cabinets and place the poison in the most common places you have seen rat droppings. Percy steps on them and curses. Sally compliments the help out loud and you wonder if he really hasn't noticed that most of the staff is gone. Fortunately, it works. .... .... And unfortunately it works. As that means you find dead rats all over the house. Foam at the mouth and eyes wide in terror. Shit expelled from their bodies in death. It makes the house reek more than it usually does and you gag when you have to throw their bodies away. Did you do anything else? <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Found your style.|Finding your style.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>And do you go for a more masculine look or feminine? <hr>\ * [[Masculine.|Style-Prep][$masculine to true]] * [[Feminine.|Style-Prep1][$feminine to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $acceptance>>Although, that is my own opinion. Perhaps I'm too harsh on our little wretched animal.<<else>>Although, that is my own opinion. I might have a tendency to want to see the best in our little wretched animal.<</if>> <<if $tname>>As $tname was considering courses of action, Victor had finally managed to escape the blabbering woman he went to school with. The majority of that conversation wasn't about $tname at all.<<else>>As $name was considering courses of action, Victor had finally managed to escape the blabbering woman he went to school with. The majority of that conversation wasn't about $name at all.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>But she didn't know that. And as she saw her father storm away from her teacher, heavy footsteps and furrowed brow aimed in her direction, she froze in place. Completely sure she was going to get it now.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>But he didn't know that. And as he saw his father storm away from his teacher, heavy footsteps and furrowed brow aimed in his direction, he froze in place. Completely sure he was going to get it now.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>But they didn't know that. And as they saw their father storm away from their teacher, heavy footsteps and furrowed brow aimed in their direction, they froze in place. Completely sure they were going to get it now.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “Father?” she managed to squeak out. Victor acknowledged his daughter with a brief glance then proceeded to grab her by the arm with no warmth or tenderness and pull her along. To her relief, away from the parents and her classmates and towards the car. Her hands intensified and she wanted to tell her father. It felt like they were burning. She opened her mouth to speak when her hands flared and she bit her tongue. Before she could think about what was happening she ran into her father's backside. “Victor, how are you?” Lorcan's father said. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> “Father?” he managed to squeak out. Victor acknowledged his son with a brief glance then proceeded to grab him by the arm with no warmth or tenderness and pull him along. To his relief, away from the parents and his classmates and towards the car. His hands intensified and he wanted to tell his father. It felt like they were burning. He opened his mouth to speak when his hands flared and he bit his tongue. Before he could think about what was happening he ran into his father's backside. “Victor, how are you?” Lorcan's father said. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> “Father?” they managed to squeak out. Victor acknowledged his child with a brief glance then proceeded to grab them by the arm with no warmth or tenderness and pull them along. To their relief, away from the parents and their classmates and towards the car. Their hands intensified and they wanted to tell their father. It felt like they were burning. They opened their mouth to speak when their hands flared and they bit their tongue. Before they could think about what was happening they ran into her father's backside. “Victor, how are you?” Lorcan's father said. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 363]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tname>>They were pleased. The voice from the dark was pleased that $tname's father had been stopped by Lorcan's father. $tname didn't know how<<else>>They were pleased. The voice from the dark was pleased that $name's father was had been stopped by Lorcan's father. $name didn't know how<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> she knew this. They hadn't said anything. But she felt it somehow, deep in her bones. A feeling of base satisfaction.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> he knew this. They hadn't said anything. But he felt it somehow, deep in his bones. A feeling of base satisfaction.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> they knew this. They hadn't said anything. But they felt it somehow, deep in their bones. A feeling of base satisfaction.<</if>> Why? “You know how it is, work. How are you and your wife Arnold?” Victor replied with a bored tone. If Arnold Stark noticed how Victor's expression was tired and his words were curt, it didn't deter him from trying to engage the former in conversation. <<if $tname>>Meanwhile, Lorcan had noticed $tname approach with Victor but he scarcely made eye contact. Preferring to look down at the ground and occasionally tug at his mother's sleeve.<<else>>Meanwhile, Lorcan had noticed $name approach with Victor but he scarcely made eye contact. Preferring to look down at the ground and occasionally tug at his mother's sleeve.<</if>> Lorcan had been “dating“ Orla for a while now. Of course, how much can children date at this age? The two years Orla had on Lorcan felt like ten. Even, so they continued on like a shaky old cabin in a thunderstorm.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> She didn't understand why Orla went out with him, she had never seen two people less alike. Then again, she didn't know anything about love. But, Nia had said she didn't get it either.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He didn't understand why Orla went out with Lorcan, he had never seen two people less alike. Then again, he didn't know anything about love. But, Nia had said she didn't get it either.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>They didn't understand why Orla went out with him, they had never seen two people less alike. Then again, they didn't know anything about love. But, Nia had said she didn't get it either.<</if>> <<if $tname>>But that is not what $tname was focused on in that moment. Mrs. Stark looked down at $tname and smiled. A gentle thing. It made the wrinkles near her eyes disappear. “Hello,” she said in a friendly tone.<<else>>But that is not what $name was focused on in that moment. Mrs. Stark looked down at $name and smiled. A gentle thing. It made the wrinkles near her eyes disappear. “Hello,” she said in a friendly tone.<</if>> <<if $tname>>Something deep inside of $tname's brain itched again.<<else>>Something deep inside of $name's brain itched again.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>There was something about Mrs. Stark that unnerved her. It was right there, at the tip of her tongue. Why couldn't she remember?<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>There was something about Mrs. Stark that unnerved him. It was right there, at the tip of his tongue. Why couldn't he remember?<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>There was something about Mrs. Stark that unnerved them. It was right there, at the tip of their tongue. Why couldn't they remember?<</if>> “Mom, I'm tired,” Lorcan whined. Mrs. Stark petted his head and said soothingly, “we have to wait for your dad sweetie. You know he isn't a good mood.” <<if $tname>>Lorcan huffed and continued to tug her sleeve. Mrs. Stark looked back at $tname<<else>>Lorcan huffed and continued to tug her sleeve. Mrs. Stark looked back at $name<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>and she realized that she had been staring at the woman, had not even responded to her greeting.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>and he realized that he had been staring at the woman, had not even responded to her greeting.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>and they realized that they had been staring at the woman, had not even responded to her greeting.<</if>> “He—“ “Look at you schmoozing the big man,” a male voice interrupted. <<if $tname>>Mrs. Stark's eyes latched on quickly to the newcomer and so did $tname's.<<else>>Mrs. Stark's eyes latched on quickly to the newcomer and so did $name's.<</if>> A man approached the group. Realistically he was much younger than Arnold and Victor but to the eyes of a child he looked to be old. He had the same reddish hair that Arnold had and the same type of mouth. He clapped Arnold's shoulder, “ah don't give me that face, I'm not here to fuck up your seduction.” Arnold didn't smile. His eye twitched and he looked like he wanted to slap the man's hand off him, but instead he cleared his throat and nodded to Victor. “Victor, you know my brother.” For his part Victor couldn't look any more exhausted by the exchange; nevertheless, he held out his hand to the man,, “Cian.” Cian gripped the senior Crown's hand firmly. It had begun to lessen, that itch. But it didn't go away yet. Cian looked to Lorcan, “hey little man! 'Sup?” Lorcan fist bumped his uncle, cracking the first smile of the afternoon. “Nothin',” Lorcan answered. Cian nodded in understanding, “the ushe' huh? What about you, momma?” “Clover, Cian. And I'm fine,” Mrs. Stark replied. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>And that's when she finally knew who she had seen all those months ago, when she'd awoken from sleepwalking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>And that's when he finally knew who he had seen all those months ago, when he'd awoken from sleepwalking.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>And that's when they finally knew who they had seen all those months ago, when they'd awoken from sleepwalking.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 364]] </h3>

<h3>And do you go for a more masculine look or feminine? <hr>\ * [[Masculine.|Style-G][$masculine to true]] * [[Feminine.|Style-G1][$feminine to true]] </h3>

<h3>And do you go for a more masculine look or feminine? <hr>\ * [[Masculine.|Style-F][$masculine to true]] * [[Feminine.|Style-F1][$feminine to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ A bit boyish for someone who looks like you, isn't it? But the world is changing. People at school do stare when they see a girl dressed in boy's clothes but it's not so out of the norm to make such a big deal. Apart from hearing someone snidely remark that you're a lesbian. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ It makes sense to you. Girl's who were born girls wear boyish clothes, you can too even if you weren't born as one. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as a girl. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ It's not something outlandish. But since you've never been the most put-together person it does grant you a few stares as you arrive at school dressed similarly to the richer kids. The looks you get aren't out of humor but more so disgust. They just can't believe you had the audacity. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It only makes sense. You've never liked how girl's clothes looked on you. It made you feel ugly. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as one. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <</if>>\ Did you do anything else? <<set $prepM to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You look cute. You were a bit worried that dressing up like this would make you look too much like your sister but you're relieved to find that you look like yourself. At school you do get some severe double takes. You're unsure if its awe, attraction or plain disbelief. Doesn't make anyone act nicer towards you though. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When you first see yourself so... feminine it makes you want to take your clothes off and go back to your regular boring clothes. But you resist the urge. The world is changing, albeit slowly. Sometimes too slowly for your liking. At school you get insulted, if it's not by jeers it's by stares that plainly show how much revulsion people have for you. But you've been through worse things your whole life. It does help that you look really good. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The first time you see yourself in girl clothes you feel your heart radically thumping in your chest. You feel content, afraid, worried, excited and anxious all at the same time. But it's even worse when you get to school. It's not only that people seem to find it gross that you dress as a girl but that you want to be referred to one to. But you feel beautiful and that drowns out everyone else's opinions. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but still be a boy. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as a boy but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that anymore. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <</if>> Did you do anything else?<<set $prepF to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>Now what happened next is not up for debate. What is up for debate is the motive. Our brave protagonist had realized who these two were. Their relation to each other and their relation to Arnold Stark. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>But she was also a child. A child with something cold inside of her, which delighted when she had realized what that thing within her had known instantly. How much can she truly be at fault for? Were the words that she blurted out next premeditated, forced from her mouth unwillingly, or the ramblings of a child that didn't know any better?<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>But he was also a child. A child with something cold inside of him, which delighted when he had realized what that thing within him had known instantly. How much can he truly be at fault for? Were the words that he blurted out next premeditated, forced from his mouth unwillingly, or the ramblings of a child that didn't know any better?<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>But they was also a child. A child with something cold inside of them, which delighted when they had realized what that thing within them had known instantly. How much can they truly be at fault for? Were the words that they blurted out next premeditated, forced from their mouth unwillingly, or the ramblings of a child that didn't know any better?<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Cian was about to respond when he saw the little girl hiding behind her father, peeking her little head out. “And who might this little princess be?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Cian was about to respond when he saw the little boy hiding behind his father, peeking his little head out. “And who might this little troublemaker be?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Cian was about to respond when he saw the little child hiding behind their father, peeking their little head out. “And who might this little scaredy cat be?”<</if>> How easily adults forget things that will damn them. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Victor seemed to remember why he came to school in the first place. He gave his daughter a passing glance and responded, “my youngest. She might be a princess, since she spends her days looking at the clouds instead of doing her schoolwork.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Victor seemed to remember why he came to school in the first place. He gave his son a passing glance and responded, “my youngest. He is a troublemaker, spends too much time getting himself in trouble and less time doing his schoolwork.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Victor seemed to remember why he came to school in the first place. He gave his son a passing glance and responded, “my youngest. Scared of talking to people but not scared of failing school.”<</if>> Cian laughed. “C'mon we can't all be Einstein. I didn't do good in school and look at me now!“ He spun around and posed like a superhero. Lorcan laughed and Mrs. Stark rolled her lips, her eyes alight. <<if $tname>>Cian bent down to get at eye-level with $tname. “School isn't everything kid. Remember that. What do you wanna be when you grow up? Cause if you suck at school you could still get a lot of money without it,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.<<else>>Cian bent down to get at eye-level with $name. “School isn't everything kid. Remember that. What do you wanna be when you grow up? Cause if you suck at school you could still get a lot of money without it,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.<</if>> <<if $strangenoise>>“I heard you.”<<elseif not $strangenoise>>“I saw you.”<</if>> Cian tilted his head slightly, “what?” <<if $fencelooker>>“You were wrestling with her on the grass.”<<elseif $strangenoise>>“You were talking about going to a hotel with her.”<<elseif $seeya>>“You were pressing your mouth to her face.”<</if>> Cian's smile took on a perplexed look but Mrs. Stark's smile dropped. The dying sun contrasted heavily with her paling face. “What are you talking about?” Lorcan asked in a mumble. Arnold's eyes went from Cian to his wife's and stayed there. “Who did you see him with?” Mr. Stark asked in a chilled tone. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Cian laughed and stood up, looking at his brother he said, “she's a kid. Overactive imagination, Arnie. Right Vic?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Cian laughed and stood up, looking at his brother he said, “he's a kid. Overactive imagination, Arnie. Right Vic?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Cian laughed and stood up, looking at his brother he said, “they're a kid. Overactive imagination, Arnie. Right Vic?”<</if>> “Victor,” Mr. Stark said without taking his eyes off his wife, who was looking more distressed than Cian did. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Victor pulled his daughter out from behind him and shoved her forward. “Answer Mr. Stark.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Victor pulled his son out from behind him and shoved him forward. “Answer Mr. Stark.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Victor pulled his child out from behind him and shoved them forward. “Answer Mr. Stark.”<</if>> <<if $tname>>And $tname did answer the man. But not with words,<<else>>And $name did answer the man. But not with words,<</if>><<if $pronouns is 'she'>> she lifted up her arm and pointed directly at Lorcan's mother.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> he lifted up his arm and pointed directly at Lorcan's mother.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> they lifted up their arm and pointed directly at Lorcan's mother.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 365]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ A bit boyish for someone who looks like you, isn't it? But the world is changing. People at school do stare when they see a girl dressed in boy's clothes but it's not so out of the norm to make such a big deal. Apart from hearing someone snidely remark that you're a lesbian. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ It makes sense to you. Girl's who were born girls wear boyish clothes, you can too even if you weren't born as one. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as a girl. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ It's not something outlandish. But since you've never been the most put-together person it does grant you a few stares as you arrive at school dressed similarly to the richer kids. The looks you get aren't out of humor but more so disgust. They just can't believe you had the audacity. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It only makes sense. You've never liked how girl's clothes looked on you. It made you feel ugly. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as one. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <</if>>\ Did you do anything else?<<set $grunM to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You look cute. You were a bit worried that dressing up like this would make you look too much like your sister but you're relieved to find that you look like yourself. At school you do get some severe double takes. You're unsure if its awe, attraction or plain disbelief. Doesn't make anyone act nicer towards you though. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When you first see yourself so... feminine it makes you want to take your clothes off and go back to your regular boring clothes. But you resist the urge. The world is changing, albeit slowly. Sometimes too slowly for your liking. At school you get insulted, if it's not by jeers it's by stares that plainly show how much revulsion people have for you. But you've been through worse things your whole life. It does help that you look really good. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The first time you see yourself in girl clothes you feel your heart radically thumping in your chest. You feel content, afraid, worried, excited and anxious all at the same time. But it's even worse when you get to school. It's not only that people seem to find it gross that you dress as a girl but that you want to be referred to one to. But you feel beautiful and that drowns out everyone else's opinions. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but still be a boy. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as a boy but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that anymore. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <</if>> Did you do anything else?<<set $grunF to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ A bit boyish for someone who looks like you, isn't it? But the world is changing. People at school do stare when they see a girl dressed in boy's clothes but it's not so out of the norm to make such a big deal. Apart from hearing someone snidely remark that you're a lesbian. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ It makes sense to you. Girl's who were born girls wear boyish clothes, you can too even if you weren't born as one. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as a girl. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ It's not something outlandish. But since you've never been the most put-together person it does grant you a few stares as you arrive at school dressed similarly to the richer kids. The looks you get aren't out of humor but more so disgust. They just can't believe you had the audacity. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It only makes sense. You've never liked how girl's clothes looked on you. It made you feel ugly. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to referred to as one. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You never thought the world made much sense when it was divided up into 'female' and 'male.' Now that you kind of freed yourself from that you find that all kinds of clothes are open to you even if the clothes are all from a certain style. The world is changing. Albeit slowly. People at school do give you //certain// looks when you show up dressed as a boy but asked to as just yourself. They call you a freak, not caring if you hear. But you've faced worse. At least you feel that you make sense now. <</if>>\ Did you do anything else?<<set $FunM to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You look cute. You were a bit worried that dressing up like this would make you look too much like your sister but you're relieved to find that you look like yourself. At school you do get some severe double takes. You're unsure if its awe, attraction or plain disbelief. Doesn't make anyone act nicer towards you though. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When you first see yourself so... feminine it makes you want to take your clothes off and go back to your regular boring clothes. But you resist the urge. The world is changing, albeit slowly. Sometimes too slowly for your liking. At school you get insulted, if it's not by jeers it's by stares that plainly show how much revulsion people have for you. But you've been through worse things your whole life. It does help that you look really good. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The first time you see yourself in girl clothes you feel your heart radically thumping in your chest. You feel content, afraid, worried, excited and anxious all at the same time. But it's even worse when you get to school. It's not only that people seem to find it gross that you dress as a girl but that you want to be referred to one to. But you feel beautiful and that drowns out everyone else's opinions. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but still be a boy. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as a boy but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that anymore. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <</if>> Did you do anything else?<<set $FunF to true>> <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You look cute. You were a bit worried that dressing up like this would make you look too much like your sister but you're relieved to find that you look like yourself. At school you do get some severe double takes. You're unsure if its awe, attraction or plain disbelief. Doesn't make anyone act nicer towards you though. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ When you first see yourself so... feminine it makes you want to take your clothes off and go back to your regular boring clothes. But you resist the urge. The world is changing, albeit slowly. Sometimes too slowly for your liking. At school you get insulted, if it's not by jeers it's by stares that plainly show how much revulsion people have for you. But you've been through worse things your whole life. It does help that you look really good. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The first time you see yourself in girl clothes you feel your heart radically thumping in your chest. You feel content, afraid, worried, excited and anxious all at the same time. But it's even worse when you get to school. It's not only that people seem to find it gross that you dress as a girl but that you want to be referred to one to. But you feel beautiful and that drowns out everyone else's opinions. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but still be a boy. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as a boy but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that anymore. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ It does confuse you how you can still want to wear 'girly' clothing but not view yourself like that. All this is so new to you but even though it looks like it makes no sense it feels right to you. But it does confuse everyone else at school when you show up, tell the teachers to refer to as in neutral words but come in wearing a skirt. They call you a freak, among other things. But it's easy to ignore that when you feel like yourself for the first time ever. <</if>> Did you do anything else? <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Cleaned the house.|Cleaning the house.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tname>>Before we go to the disaster that followed... let's theorize as to why $tname Crown did this?<<else>>Before we go to the disaster that followed... let's theorize as to why $name Crown did this?<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>It might not be the truth, but it happened so long ago our heroine might not even know why she did it herself.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>It might not be the truth, but it happened so long ago our hero might not even know why he did it himself.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>It might not be the truth, but it happened so long ago our hero might not even know why they did it themself.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Perhaps this theory can be taken as her truth.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Perhaps this theory can be taken as his truth.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Perhaps this theory can be taken as their truth.<</if>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ <hr>\ * [[🜥 She didn't know she was doing something dangerous.|Page 366][$notme to true]] * [[🜒 She wanted to do something bad.|Page 366][$yesme to true]] * [[🜥 It wasn't her choice.|Page 366][$kindofme to true]] <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ <hr>\ * [[🜥 He didn't know he was doing something dangerous.|Page 366][$notme to true]] * [[🜒 He wanted to do something bad.|Page 366][$yesme to true]] * [[🜥 It wasn't his choice.|Page 366][$kindofme to true]] <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ <hr>\ * [[🜥 They didn't know they were doing something dangerous.|Page 366][$notme to true]] * [[🜒 They wanted to do something bad.|Page 366][$yesme to true]] * [[🜥 It wasn't their choice.|Page 366][$kindofme to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $notme>>\ Whatever the reason, what's done is done. <<set $Ethical += 1>> <<elseif $yesme>>\ Whatever the reason, what's done is done. <<set $Corrupt += 1>> <<elseif $kindofme>>\ Whatever the reason, what's done is done. <<set $Ethical += 1>> <</if>>\ Cian laughed once more, a certain waver to it that sounds more worried than it did before. He snorted and gave an incredulous look to his brother, “yeah ok.” His sarcasm went unnoted by Mr. Stark, whose eyes were fixed on his wife. She looked like she was going to be sick. Lorcan was looking at his mother, gripping onto her sleeve. He wasn't sure what just happened, but he could tell his father was angry. Mr. Stark grabbed his wife's wrist and practically dragged her to his side, she went like a mannequin. Her small form awkwardly pressed to his large side. <<if $tname>>Lorcan knew they would fight and he didn't know why but he did know it was something $tname did.<<else>>Lorcan knew they would fight and he didn't know why but he did know it was something $name did.<</if>><<if $pronouns is 'she'>> He glared at her but she was tugging on her father's hand.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> He glared at him but he was tugging on his father's hand.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> They glared at them but they were tugging on their father's hand.<</if>> Mr. Stark said coldly, “Victor you'll have to excuse me. It's almost supper.”<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Victor seemed relieved to hear that, understanding what his daughter had just said, but caring little about adultery and less about the Starks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Victor seemed relieved to hear that, understanding what his son had just said, but caring little about adultery and less about the Starks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Victor seemed relieved to hear that, understanding what his child had just said, but caring little about adultery and less about the Starks.<</if>> “Goodnight,” he said and clasped Mr. Stark's hand firmly. Cian was awkwardly smiling, chuckling at odd moments. He looked more manic than his sister-in-law did. “Arnie,” he tried to say but his brother walked away, his big hand clasped tightly around his wife's wrist. She looked over her shoulder at Cian, a pleading look in her wide eyes. <<if $tname>>Lorcan quickly followed, making sure to shoulder check $tname as he passed.<<else>>Lorcan quickly followed, making sure to shoulder check $name as he passed.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>For her part she watched the retreating family. Not knowing what to think and not having time to dwell on it as her father walked to the car, calling his other daughter to him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>For his part he watched the retreating family. Not knowing what to think and not having time to dwell on it as his father walked to the car, calling his children to him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>For their part they watched the retreating family. Not knowing what to think and not having time to dwell on it as their father walked to the car, calling his other child to him.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 367]] </h3>

<h3>Three weeks later Clover Stark was murdered by her husband. Who had bludgeoned her with a crowbar in their kitchen, dragged her body to the backyard, and tried to bury her. A neighbor had seen him and called the police. Sometime in the night, Arnold Stark had gone over to his brother's house and had stabbed him multiple times. He left him for dead, but Cian managed to survive long enough to name his brother as his killer. Mr. Stark was given two life sentences and sent to a super max prison several hours away from town. He has never given a statement as to why he decided this was the best course of action. He took the announcement of his sentence with the same calm he'd had since he was first interviewed. As for Lorcan, he spent the next weeks trying to make sense of it all. His parents fought but never as they had in the weeks before his mother's death. And one day as he was walking along the school playground, trying to ignore the stares of all the kids who whispered about him, he saw the only other person as alone as he was. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Then he remembered. And a fury as warm as lava was born in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't even think before he stomped over to her and shoved her to the ground.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Then he remembered. And a fury as warm as lava was born in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't even think before he stomped over to him and shoved him to the ground.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Then he remembered. And a fury as warm as lava was born in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't even think before he stomped over to them and shoved them to the ground.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>She looked up at the boy standing over her. She didn't say anything. Her gaze disorientated.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He looked up at the boy standing over him. He didn't say anything. His gaze disorientated.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>They looked up at the boy standing over them. They didn't say anything. Their gaze disorientated.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>His face was red, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth would shatter. That had made everyone stop what they were doing to look over at the scene. “You bitch you killed my mom!“ he accused in a scream so feral the teachers by the doors heard and started running towards them.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>His face was red, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth would shatter. That had made everyone stop what they were doing to look over at the scene. “You asshole you killed my mom!“ he accused in a scream so feral the teachers by the doors heard and started running towards them.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>His face was red, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth would shatter. That had made everyone stop what they were doing to look over at the scene. “You asshole you killed my mom!“ he accused in a scream so feral the teachers by the doors heard and started running towards them.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan aimed to kick her and she...<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Lorcan aimed to kick him and he...<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Lorcan aimed to kick her and they...<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Froze.|Page 368][$kick to true]] * [[Got up and shoved him.|Page 368*][$shove to true]] * [[Screamed for help.|Page 368**][$scream to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ Lorcan's kick to her stomach was so hard she felt vomit in her mouth. He didn't give her a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of her stomach. The air left her chest and she rolled to her back, her eyes looking up at the overcast day. She awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from her by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that she had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Lorcan's kick to his stomach was so hard he felt vomit in his mouth. He didn't give him a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of his stomach. The air left his chest and he rolled to his back, his eyes looking up at the overcast day. He awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from him by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that he had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ Lorcan's kick to their stomach was so hard they felt vomit in their mouth. He didn't give them a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of their stomach. The air left their chest and they rolled to their back, their eyes looking up at the overcast day. They awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from them by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that they had killed his mom. <</if>> <<if $tname>>A pair of blue eyes appeared above $tname's vision, obscuring the sky.<<else>>A pair of blue eyes appeared above $name's vision, obscuring the sky.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Imre Duran helped her up and guided her to the nurse's office along with Nia, who came running from her own friend group. She didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. She just wrapped her arm around her stomach and stared blankly at nothing until her parents arrived to pick her up.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre Duran helped him up and guided him to the nurse's office along with Nia, who came running from her own friend group. He didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. He just wrapped his arm around his stomach and stared blankly at nothing until his parents arrived to pick him up.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Imre Duran helped them up and guided them to the nurse's office along with Nia, who came running from her own friend group. They didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. They just wrapped their arm around their stomach and stared blankly at nothing until their parents arrived to pick them up.<</if>> <<if $tname>>That night, while $tname was holding an ice pack to<<else>>That night, while $name was holding an ice pack to<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>her bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped her picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>his bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped his picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>their bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped their picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 369]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ he let him kick her, but before letting the pain debilitate her, she got up and shoved him hard. He stumbled but didn't fall. She didn't give him a chance to attack her before shoving him again even harder, watching as he fell and hit his head against the concrete. She stood over him, her face impassive but her hands ready to shove him again if he tried to hurt her. And that he did, he scrambled up and seemed poised to attack but was restrained by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his opponent. All the while saying over and over again that she had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ He let him kick him, but before letting the pain debilitate him, he got up and shoved Lorcan hard. He stumbled but didn't fall. He didn't give Lorcan a chance to attack him before shoving him again even harder, watching as Lorcan fell and hit his head against the concrete.” He stood over him, his face impassive but his hands ready to shove him again if he tried to hurt him. And that he did, he scrambled up and seemed poised to attack but was restrained by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his opponent. All the while saying over and over again that he had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ They let him kick then, but before letting the pain debilitate them, they got up and shoved him hard. He stumbled but didn't fall. They didn't give him a chance to attack them before shoving him again even harder, watching as he fell and hit his head against the concrete.” They stood over him, their face impassive but their hands ready to shove him again if he tried to hurt them. And that he did, he scrambled up and seemed poised to attack but was restrained by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his opponent. All the while saying over and over again that they had killed his mom. <</if>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>She watched as he was dragged away from her. Nia ran up to her and asked if she was ok but she didn't answer, her eyes following the boy. Imre Duran stood in front of a group of kids, his eyes going from Lorcan to her.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>He watched as he was dragged away from him. Nia ran up to him and asked if he was ok but he didn't answer, his eyes following the boy. Imre Duran stood in front of a group of kids, his eyes going from Lorcan to him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>They watched as he was dragged away from them. Nia ran up to them and asked if they were ok but they didn't answer, their eyes following the boy. Imre Duran stood in front of a group of kids, his eyes going from Lorcan to them.<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>That night, Lorcan ripped her picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>That night, Lorcan ripped his picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>That night, Lorcan ripped their picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall. Throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 369]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ A scream she didn't know was in her, for she had never screamed like this, before came out so loud it got the attention of the teachers patrolling the schoolyard. They didn't get there in time as Lorcan aimed a kick for her stomach, which cut off her plea for help. He didn't give her a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of her stomach. The air left her chest and she rolled to her back, her eyes looking up at the overcast day. She awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from her by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that she had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ A scream he didn't know was in him, for he had never screamed like this, before came out so loud it got the attention of the teachers patrolling the schoolyard. They didn't get there in time as Lorcan aimed a kick for his stomach, which cut off his plea for help. He didn't give him a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of his stomach. The air left his chest and he rolled to his back, his eyes looking up at the overcast day. He awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from him by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that he had killed his mom. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ A scream they didn't know was in them, for they had never screamed like this, before came out so loud it got the attention of the teachers patrolling the schoolyard. They didn't get there in time as Lorcan aimed a kick for their stomach, which cut off their plea for help. He didn't give them a moment's rest before aiming another kick to another part of their stomach. The air left their chest and they rolled to their back, their eyes looking up at the overcast day. They awaited the next kick that never came. Lorcan was pulled away from them by the gym and history teachers. He was screaming wildly, tears streaming down his face, straining against his captors, trying to get back to his victim. All the while saying over and over again that they had killed his mom. <</if>>\ <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Imre Duran helped her up and guided her to the nurse's office along with Nia who came running from her own friend group. She didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. She just wrapped her arm around her stomach and stared blankly at nothing until her parents arrived to pick her up.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Imre Duran helped him up and guided him to the nurse's office along with Nia who came running from her own friend group. He didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. He just wrapped his arm around his stomach and stared blankly at nothing until his parents arrived to pick him up.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Imre Duran helped them up and guided them to the nurse's office along with Nia who came running from her own friend group. They didn't answer the nurse's questions and let Nia stew in her anger. They just wrapped their arm around their stomach and stared blankly at nothing until their parents arrived to pick them up.<</if>> <<if $tname>>That night while $tname was holding an icepack to<<else>>That night while $name was holding an icepack to<</if>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>her bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped her picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall, throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>his bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped his picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall, throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>their bruised and tender stomach, Lorcan had ripped their picture out of the school's yearbook of 1985 and stuck it to his wall, throwing endless darts at the face he had come to despise.<</if>> [[NEXT->Page 369]] </h3>

<h3>The next morning, he's the only one in the cemetery. He's also the only person wrapped in a velvet cloak. The gray clouds reflect off his sunglasses. You approach him. He's standing in front of a simple marked grave. The incisions on the tombstone are too faded for you to make out. The grave itself is littered with old and new leaves, animal droppings and cigarette butts. “This is where I was laid to rest,” Jay says solemnly. “My condolences,” you say. Jay smiles. “Not really. My human life wasn't that great. Good thing I died young. Have you ever seen a grandpa vamp? Not hot.” You scratch your head. “So...” Jay sighs and looks at you. “I have this friend.” “Ok...” “A human friend.” “Oh.” “Yeah. Oh. First time ever mind you. And well, you see why that would be a hard friendship to maintain,” Jay explains. “And what do you need me for?” He looks you up and down, his eyes hidden behind the dark tint of the sunglasses. “I need you to hang around me for like a week.” “To get me used to being around humans,” he elaborates. //Note: the next page is timed.//<<set $seconds to 10>> [[NEXT->Timer-Vamp]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer4">> <hr>\ * [[Say yes.|Page SQ6-6][$yesvamp to true]] * [[Say no.|Page SQ6-6][$novamp to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $yesvamp>>\ “So if you get hungry you'll eat me instead of your friend?” you ask, stunned and mildly annoyed. “Exactly,” Jay replies. You shake your head in disbelief. Hearing that your life is worth less is not the greatest thing to ever hear, but worse in the morning. Jay looks at you expectantly. Maybe you want to flirt with death. Who knows what goes on in that mind of yours. Sighing you reply, “ok.” Jay grins and is about to speak but you quickly add, “I'm bringing protection, in case you even try to get as much as a nip.” Jay nods. “Yeah that's fair.” [[NEXT->Page SQ6-7]] <<elseif $novamp>>\ “So if you get hungry you'll eat me instead of your friend?” you ask stunned and mildly annoyed. “Exactly,” Jay replies. You shake your head in disbelief. Hearing that your life is worth less is not the greatest thing to hear ever but worst in the morning. You feel yourself get angry. “You know what Jay? You can go fuck yourself! I'm no one's bait.” You turn on your heel and start walking to the cemetery's entrance, intent on covering your front door with crosses when you hear the sound of air and suddenly Jay lands with a thump in front of you. You stop and look around. There's another exit but it's on the other side of the cemetery. You look back at Jay and see a glare on his face. His brown skin seems to get even more lively as his body looks to be expanding. Instead of the lithe build you thought he had, he now seems //bigger//. You clench your fists, knowing that that won't do anything against a vampire. “Really? You're going to kill me just cause I have some self-respect?” you ask, cursing that your voice wavers. Jay shrugs. “One thing to know about my kind is that we don't like rejection, and we solve all our nuisances by killing them.” You turn and try to sprint to the other exit, but you hear that woosh of air above you and suddenly your vision is shrouded in darkness. [[NEXT->Death Scene 2]] <</if>> </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "VampFreeze">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

<h3>Your mouth is open but no sounds come out. Jay lowers his sunglasses, his dark eyes peer at you under his long eyelashes. “You have nothing to say?” “I—“ you can't seem to find the words. Jay raises his sunglasses and looks around. “You know, a non-answer to me is a rejection, and if there's something to know about me... is that I //hate// rejection. Makes food taste weird.” “Food?” you ask, your voice higher than you'd like it to be. Jay turns his head slowly back to you. There's a smile on his face again. You take a trembling step back. “I do want to be around humans to not eat my friend,” Jay begins and takes a big step towards you, “but human blood is so...” You take another step back, wanting but preventing yourself for looking away from him. “Addicting,” he says seductively. You take another step and flinch when your back touches a tree trunk. Jay seems to expand. His regular lithe body becoming muscular and broad. He unwraps his arms from around his waist, the cloak billowing out in the wind. You shiver as leaves fly up from the ground. “Please,” you beg. Jay reaches out a long brown finger to delicately touch your chin. The coldness of his skin makes you want to jerk away. His smile is sharp, his fangs piercing his thick glistening lips. “I do love it when they beg.” [[NEXT->Death Scene 2]] </h3>

<h3> __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ <<if $tname>>$tname Crown: 1975-1994.<<else>>$name Crown: 1975-1994.<</if>> //“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at Episode 6.->Episode 6 Sponsor]] </h3>

<h3>So you start hanging out with Jay. What's good is that he catches you at a time where the investigation has kind of stalled. Jay always arrives thirty minutes after sunset. You haven't invited him inside and you're not sure if you will. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggests on a Sunday around eleven o'clock. “Where?” you ask as you fold your laundry. “I don't know, anywhere, I'm bored,” he complains. “You do know there's a murderer on the loose right?” Jay scoffs, “I'm a vampire, you'll be fineeee.” You look at the pile of recently washed clothes and it looks as inviting as watching a snail slide on the ground. Although taking a stroll with a vampire at night isn't the safest thing to do, Jay hasn't attempted to bite you at all. You're actually starting to wonder if he misjudged his sense of control. You look at Jay, who has one bushy eyebrow raised. You lift a finger, “one hour and then you bring me back.” “Ok,” he says excitedly. “In one piece.” “Dead or alive?” You grimace and he holds up his hands, “Jesus! Just kidding!“ You let him levitate you down to the ground from your window. //Note: next page is timed.//<<set $seconds to 8>> [[NEXT->Page SQ6-8]] </h3>

<h3>//Mid October// If it were intentional your ceiling would be chic with all its missing paint. As it is, it looks decayed, old, crumbling away as everything in this house. The manor has kind of always been this way since your childhood but it was ignorable, these things are when you're young. You were never one of those kids who didn't see the ugliness of the world. Your life hasn't been pretty but it was easier to ignore with Sally covering your eyes to most of the horror. These days, you barely see him. And you find that you can withstand seeing the state of things. For example, the manor is breaking apart. You're pretty sure the only staff left is the cook who for what you pay her for she should be fired for making only pasta. The main stairs to the second floor are sagging. You and your siblings have to constantly shake out pieces of paint falling from the ceiling. The mold has infected most of the house. The shrubs outside are threatening to hide the house and you think a skunk has died somewhere, it's making the lower floor reek. The constant rain has wet the floors. You feel a drop on your forehead in that very moment. You don't bother to wipe it away.<<if $cassy>>The music warbles in your ears. The cassette your brother gave you has become a constant companion to you these past few days. It allows you not to get overwhelmed with your thoughts.<<elseif not $cassy>>The pitter-patter of the rain on the roof is a comforting noise to contemplate thoughts with.<</if>> You find you can barely sleep anymore. No matter what you do, what you take and how exhausted you arrive home after a school day you lay in bed for hours as everyone else sleeps. The night hours creeping by slower and slower each passing night. You've had bouts of insomnia before, in the most stressful periods of your life. But this time, you're kind of relieved that you can't sleep. Every time you do you have these strange nightmares. They seem familiar too. When you were in the asylum you would wake up, soaked to the bone from a dream but it would be hard for you to remember its details. Nowadays, you can't remember what happens when you close your eyes in complete detail but you do remember one thing — yellow lights. Sometimes just two, others times so many that they surround you. Not even in your waking hours are you at peace. After the incident on the porch, you can't help but see her everywhere. At the corner of your vision when you're in school, she's sitting in the seat next to you. In the car, she's sitting in the backseat, behind the driver's seat. In your bed, she's laying next to you, so close you can feel the cold exude from her pores. So close you could reach over and touch her dead skin. You have to hold onto the thread of sanity you have, at least until the investigation is complete. That's what forces you to ignore all the things that your mind is doing to you. [[NEXT->Page 370]] </h3>

<h3>Ever since that night Sally has been speaking to you in a strange way. It makes you think of a person trying to soothe a wild animal they want to tame. Apt metaphor. When you awoke the next morning you found him asleep on a chair next to your bed. The minute he woke up he asked you what had happened. <hr>\ * [[You told him.|Page 371][$inny to true]] * [[You didn't say.|Page 371][$outie to true]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/07/03/19/39/pocket-watch-2468768_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer5">> To protect yourself against Jay you decided to... <hr>\ * [[Eat garlic.|Page SQ6-9][$garlic to true]] * [[Wear crosses.|Page SQ6-9][$crosses to true]] * [[Have a spell ready.|Page SQ6-9][$spell to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $garlic>>\ It's a classic for a reason. You couldn't wear them because Sally would ask questions. There's already been some close calls with him answering the calls of potential clients. So you've added it in whatever form you found to your food. One bite and Jay will be coughing up blood. <<elseif $crosses>>\ Turns out your ancestors were very religious. There's crosses everywhere in the attic. Especially rosaries.<<if $homei>> They fit in with the cross Imre gave you.<<elseif not $homei>>You try to match them.<</if>> You end up looking like a religious zealot or a goth — depends on who you ask and how much they dislike you — but it could save your life. <<elseif $spell>>\ You find new uses for the computer at the school library. Turns out you can find things written by everyday people who are into supernatural stuff from around the world. Neat. Mrs. Frida has to teach you how to search for things and you have to makeup an excuse to get her to leave you be but you finally find people who say they're 'witches' or 'wiccans,' you're not too sure what's the difference. You find a 'site' — Mrs. Frida's word for it not yours — where people are providing 'comments' regarding protection from vampires. A user called G@rDenGn03xX7 types down a spoken spell. It involves cutting your hand and writing a simple symbol on the vampire's forehead. The user doesn't mention what it does only that it will //'save your life.'// So you write down the words and <<if $homel>> make sure Lorcan's pocketknife is with you at all times<<elseif not $homel>> make carry a small sharp knife from the kitchen with you at all times.<</if>> <</if>>\ Your near-midnight walk with Jay leads you to the quiet streets of Main Street. You see a few people here and there. At least outwardly they look like people. No one messes with you, for someone named Jay, he has a presence about him that allows you to be out this late and not fear that you'll be munched on. “Could you slow down?” you ask for the tenth time, your voice unable to sound as annoyed as you feel due to how out of breath you are. Jay turns around with a exasperated expression. His feet aren't even touching the sidewalk. “Maybe you could hurry it up.” “Hey, I'm the one doing //you// a favour,” you retort as you catch up to him. “Like it's been hard.” “Maybe you're more immune to human blood than you think you are,” you reply. “Or maybe this is all an elaborate plan to get me to trust you and then bam, you eat me.” Jay stops walk slash floating and glares at you. “I'm not a liar.” You give him a bemused look. “Ok...” “Not all vamps are the same y'know? Fucking Dracula made you humans all think we're the same. We don't all want to be monsters,” he sneers. Your eyes go wide at how heated he's getting. “Jay I didn't mean that to be taken so seri—“ “I'll show you I'm not a swindler,” he cuts in. You raise an eyebrow, “how?” He starts floating down the street and you guess that's your cue to follow, which you do at a quick jog. He ignores your protests to slow down. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-10]] </h3>

<h3><<if $inny>>\ When the words left your mouth he took a few seconds to process it. “You saw Orla...” You nod, your fingers gripping the soft blanket. He rolls his lips and his eyes roam around your room. You just look at him, waiting. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I think I would know what she looks like,” you state, too tired to have any defensive tone to your voice. “Of course!“ he assures you quickly. “It's just that...” “What?” Sally sighs and his eyes wonder again, seemingly unable to say what he wants to say without offending you. Always the diplomat. “I don't think hanging out with those boys is doing you any good. They're putting ideas into your head and god-knows-what—“ he sees that you're about to protest this and continues on like a bulldozer, “BECAUSE I know that they're not a good influence for someone who is as gentle as you are.” He gives you a placatingly smile. You press your mouth shut. You could get into it with him but you're head hurts and you haven't processed what happened so you just bring the blanket up to your chin. “I'll get you something warm to drink,” he says and caresses your hair. <<elseif $outie>>\ “I've just been stressed,” you admit, which isn't entirely a lie. Sally raises a quizzical brow, “so because you're tired I found you outside shaking?” You shrug, “teenage hormones.” Sally's expression doesn't change. “Is it those boys? Are they the ones that are getting you like this?” You furrow your brows, “was that have to do with anything?” Sally sighs, seemingly irritated, “you've just been acting strange since you've been seeing them. Maybe you should think about seeing them less.” You scoff, “this has nothing to do with Imre or Lorcan.” Sally doesn't hear you. He gives your shoulder a grip and says, “I'll get you something warm to drink.” <</if>> Now every night he opens the door and peeks into your room, telling you goodnight and asking you if you need anything. [[NEXT->Page 372]] </h3>

<h3>You thought that was the end of it but you've underestimated how much Sally doesn't approve of your new pals. After a futile brainstorming session with the boys you had just come through the door, shrugging off your rain-soaked coat when you heard a few footsteps and saw Sally coming out of the parlor. “What are you doing here so early?” you ask, hanging up your coat. “I actually have to leave soon but I wanted to be here for this,” he says with a smile and a clasp of his hands. “For what?” Sally takes your arm and leads you to the parlor. You see two people seated next to each other on the couches. A tray of little sandwiches on the coffee table. They look up as you and your brother enter. Sally leaves your side and sits down across from them. He looks at you expectantly and pats the seat beside him. Your expression must show your confusion because Sally gestures to the other two, “$name, this is Dina and Travis.” Dina gives you a once over and then takes a sandwich. Travis at the very least gives you a limp wave. You blink a few times. Sally looks from you to the other two and his smile slightly drops. “$name, why don't you sit down and get to know them?” “What is this?” you inquire. “This?” Sally asks, his eyes becoming a bit anxious. “Yes,” you say curtly. “Well, I thought it would be good for you if you met some people. Did you know that Dina and Travis are both in your grade? Dina is editor of the student newspaper and Travis got an early acceptance into a school in England,” Sally rambles. You make a face, obviously unpleasant enough for Dina and Travis to exchange glances and question Sally with their eyes. “So, sit,” he suggests once more. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373][$byeF to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373-TF][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373-TF][$byeF to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373][$byeF to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373-TM][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373-TM][$byeF to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373-NF][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373-NF][$byeF to true]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ <hr>\ * [[Sit.|Page 373-NM][$sitF to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 373-NM][$byeF to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sitF>>\ With a grim face you stiffly walk over to your brother and sit down next to him. He brought to your mother's fine China tea set. He pours you a cup and slides it over to you. Mechanically you take it but don't attempt to take a sip. Dina and Travis chew the sandwiches slowly, avoiding eye contact with you and only lifting their heads up from their tea to look at each other or Sally. You feel your brother looking at you but you keep your eyes on your tea. He clears his throat and says, “$name, Dina and Travis came here to spend some time with you. They're very good kids and I feel you'll get along really well.” Sally's arranged a play date for you. This is because of Imre and Lorcan. “$name, say hello to our guests, please,” he urges. You slowly look over at him. His expression looks friendly but you know your brother well to know he's getting exasperated with you. <hr> * [[Do what he says.|Page 374][$playnice to true]] * [[You're not playing.|Page 374][$notnice to true]] <<elseif $byeF>>\ You shake your head, turn on your heel and walk out of the parlor. You brace yourself for the sermon as you hear your brother's footsteps behind you. Still, you try to readily ascend the stairs but he grabs your arm. You look back and his face isn't angry yet but he's breathing heavily. He glances at the open parlor doors and whispers indignantly, “what are you doing? We have guests. You can't just lock yourself in your room.” You jerk your arm away and reply, “I can't lock myself in my room anyway! I don't have a fucking lock!“ Sally throws another hasty look to the parlor. Sighing with frustration he says, “please keep your voice down and don't swear.” “WHY?” you ask, raising your voice. Sally purses his lips and looks down momentarily. You cross your arms defensively. “Can't you let me do something good for you?” he asks, his voice trying to be gentle but the anger he feels roughs his words. You take a step down, now you're almost the same height. “Why can't you just let me. Just let me live. Let me choose my friends. Is it that much to ask for?” “Yes it is!“ he responds angrily, his voice still a whisper. You grind your teeth, you see Dina and Travis peeking out from behind the doors. Honestly, they'll hear no matter what. Sally swallows and lets out a breath. “$name, the world isn't the way you think. It's big and dangerous and it whips. I've gone through I've seen things—“ he stops and then says, “I just want to protect you from that. Honestly how well do you know those boys? I don't think you have the experience to know how to trust.” You scoff bitterly. “And who's fault is that? You never let me figure it out.” Sally tries to reach for your arm again but drops it. <hr>\ * [[Plead with him.|Page 374*][$pleases to true]] * [[Escalate things.|Page 374*][$nosies to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "VampFreeze2">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

<h3>To have nothing. Your encounter with blood-suckers has been minimal, but you're surprised and disappointed in yourself that you have nothing to show for your forays into the supernatural. Frankly, embarrassing.<<set $nopro to true>> But c'est la vie. You've decided to take the risk of trusting Jay to not eat you if something happens. Your near-midnight walk with Jay leads you to the quiet streets of Main Street. You see a few people here and there, or at least outwardly they look like people. No one messes with you. For someone named Jay, he has a presence about him that allows you to be out this late and not fear that you'll be munched on. “Could you slow down?” you ask for the tenth time, your voice unable to sound as annoyed as you feel due to how out of breath you are. Jay turns around with an exasperated expression. His feet aren't even touching the sidewalk. “Maybe you could hurry it up.” “Hey, I'm the one doing //you// a favour,” you retort as you catch up to him. “Like it's been hard.” “Maybe you're more immune to human blood than you think you are,” you reply. “Or maybe this is all an elaborate plan to get me to trust you and then bam, you eat me.” Jay stops walk slash floating and glares at you. “I'm not a liar.” You give him a bemused look. “Ok...” “Not all vamps are the same y'know? Fucking Dracula made you humans all think we're the same. We don't all want to be monsters,” he sneers. Your eyes go wide at how heated he's getting. “Jay I didn't mean that to be taken so seri—“ “I'll show you I'm not a swindler,” he cuts in. You raise an eyebrow, “how?” He starts floating down the street and you guess that's your cue to follow, which you do at a quick jog. He ignores your protests to slow down. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-10]] </h3>

<h3>In his urgency, Jay doesn't heed your complaints and you have to maintain a light jog as you follow him a bit aways from Main Street. He leads you into a regular neighborhood, but one of the nicer ones where the old houses from the early years of the century are still maintained well enough. “Jay!“ you urge in vain. The aforementioned vamp floats quickly down the street. Hardly breathing you break into a run, something you think you've never done except during gym class. And that time at the hospital. You think he's just trying to punish you for suggesting he was lying to kill you. Since when did vampires become so serious? And it's not like it's out of the realm of possiblity. You're so busy focused on not passing out that you almost run into Jay, who's planted his feet on the ground. You stop short and hunch over, putting your hands on your thighs. You feel like vomiting. Jay throws you a passing glance and then walks up the steps of the house in front of you. The porch lights are on, and Jay has to use his cloak to cover his face in a parody of the usual Dracula pose. You breathe in and out trying to control your stomach muscles. Jay knocks sharply on the door once. You swear that barely a second later the door swings open. You can't see who it is because Jay's blocking your view, but you hear a female voice. They exchange a few words that you can't hear over the blood pounding in your ears. Your legs give out, and before smashing your face on the ground you put out your hands. You feel a sharp pain in your palm and you hiss sitting up. You lift up your hand to see it in the light of the streetlight. There's a piece of glass stuck in your skin. Cursing, you quickly take it out and grind your teeth together as the pain spreads throughout your hand. <<if $tname>>“Yes this is $tname—“<<else>>“Yes this is $name—“<</if>> Jay looks over at you, the smile on his face disappearing. “Hi, I'm Lucy, Jay's friend. He's told me about you and I'm really grateful for what you're doing. So is Jay, right?” the woman, Lucy, asks with a friendly tone. When she notices the expression on Jay's face a nervous look appears in her eyes. Jay tilts his head up and closes his eyes. He inhales deeply. You press your hand into your palm but all it does is coat your thumb in blood. It's quick, how he comes to you. As fast as he floated to Lucy's house. He stands over you, his face emotionless. Cold. You feel goosebumps on your arms. “Jay, don't!“ Lucy pleads. Jay envelops you in his arms, his cloak cocooning you in a nightmare of the softest velvet. His aroma of old rose petals makes you dizzy. That might be the blood loss, actually. Jay gently, tilts your head back, exposing your neck. His nails rake over your throat. He licks his lips as he leans in, fangs protruded. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-11]] </h3>

<h3><<if $playnice>>\ You take a good minute to respond. Your reluctance mixed with your antisocial tendencies and the utter surprise of all of this leaves you scrambling for words. “Hi, I'm $name. It's good to meet you I guess.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. The coversations lulls from there, although Sally tries to revive it several times by asking mundance questions like “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The other two answer in one word questions and when Sally asks you what you think you reply, “cool.” Sally's smile droops a bit and it makes you feel conflicted. You kind of feel bad for not giving more effort but you also don't want to talk to these people. Sally suddenly brings up his watch and grimaces. Seeing your eyes on him he explains, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Dina, Travis, make yourselves at home,” he says kindly and giving you a look he gets up, passes you and leaves the parlor. Your eyes widen and you put your tea down. You go after him, not bothering to say anything to the other two. Sally's is putting on his coat when you get to him. He looks confused to see you walking up to him. “Is there something wrong?” he asks completely serious. “I don't know what to say to them,” you reply nervously. [[NEXT->Page 375]] <<elseif $notnice>>\ You refuse to engage. You stare down at your tea and count the seconds in your head. Your brother nudges you but you refuse to look up. Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry $name is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” Neither Dina nor Travis audibly respond to that and you don't look up to see what they think of that excuse. You probably look like the freak they've heard about, just staring down at your cup like a weirdo. “$name, don't you want to ask Dina and Travis a question?” Hell no. You don't budge. You can feel how annoyed Sally is getting. But you did the most you're willing to do, you could've walked out of here. Maybe that would've been for the best. A few minutes pass by in silence. The only noises in the room are sips and chews. It probably stays like that for five minutes but it feels like longer before Sally says, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Uh, can you drive us home? It's raining,” Dina asks. Sally pauses before answering tersely, “sure.” You keep still as they begin to get up. “Bye,” Travis says to you. You don't look up but you hear their feet moving. “All I wanted was for you to try,” Sally says quickly in your ear and you finally look up. He's bent down, so his face is close to yours. His expression isn't angry, it's... tired. “Sally—“ “I'll see you at dinner,” he interjects, not giving you time to respond before he's already out of the parlor. [[NEXT->Page 377]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sitF>>\ With a grim face you stiffly walk over to your brother and sit down next to him. He brought to your mother's fine China tea set. He pours you a cup and slides it over to you. Mechanically you take it but don't attempt to take a sip. Dina and Travis chew the sandwiches slowly, avoiding eye contact with you and only lifting their heads up from their tea to look at each other or Sally. You feel your brother looking at you but you keep your eyes on your tea. He clears his throat and says, “$name, Dina and Travis came here to spend some time with you. They're very good kids and I feel you'll get along really well.” Sally's arranged a play date for you. This is because of Imre and Lorcan. “$name, say hello to our guests, please,” he urges. You slowly look over at him. His expression looks friendly but you know your brother well to know he's getting exasperated with you. <hr> * [[Do what he says.|Page 374-TF][$playnice to true]] * [[You're not playing.|Page 374-TF][$notnice to true]] <<elseif $byeF>>\ You shake your head, turn on your heel and walk out of the parlor. You brace yourself for the sermon as you hear your brother's footsteps behind you. Still, you try to readily ascend the stairs but he grabs your arm. You look back and his face isn't angry yet but he's breathing heavily. He glances at the open parlor doors and whispers indignantly, “what are you doing? We have guests. You can't just lock yourself in your room.” You jerk your arm away and reply, “I can't lock myself in my room anyway! I don't have a fucking lock!“ Sally throws another hasty look to the parlor. Sighing with frustration he says, “please keep your voice down and don't swear.” “WHY?” you ask, raising your voice. Sally purses his lips and looks down momentarily. You cross your arms defensively. “Can't you let me do something good for you?” he asks, his voice trying to be gentle but the anger he feels roughs his words. You take a step down, now you're almost the same height. “Why can't you just let me. Just let me live. Let me choose my friends. Is it that much to ask for?” “Yes it is!“ he responds angrily, his voice still a whisper. You grind your teeth, you see Dina and Travis peeking out from behind the doors. Honestly, they'll hear no matter what. Sally swallows and lets out a breath. “$name, the world isn't the way you think. It's big and dangerous and it whips. I've gone through I've seen things—“ he stops and then says, “I just want to protect you from that. Honestly how well do you know those boys? I don't think you have the experience to know how to trust.” You scoff bitterly. “And who's fault is that? You never let me figure it out.” Sally tries to reach for your arm again but drops it. <hr>\ * [[Plead with him.|Page 374-TF*][$pleases to true]] * [[Escalate things.|Page 374-TF*][$nosies to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sitF>>\ With a grim face you stiffly walk over to your brother and sit down next to him. He brought to your mother's fine China tea set. He pours you a cup and slides it over to you. Mechanically you take it but don't attempt to take a sip. Dina and Travis chew the sandwiches slowly, avoiding eye contact with you and only lifting their heads up from their tea to look at each other or Sally. You feel your brother looking at you but you keep your eyes on your tea. He clears his throat and says, “$name, Dina and Travis came here to spend some time with you. They're very good kids and I feel you'll get along really well.” Sally's arranged a play date for you. This is because of Imre and Lorcan. “$name, say hello to our guests, please,” he urges. You slowly look over at him. His expression looks friendly but you know your brother well to know he's getting exasperated with you. <hr> * [[Do what he says.|Page 374-TM][$playnice to true]] * [[You're not playing.|Page 374-TM][$notnice to true]] <<elseif $byeF>>\ You shake your head, turn on your heel and walk out of the parlor. You brace yourself for the sermon as you hear your brother's footsteps behind you. Still, you try to readily ascend the stairs but he grabs your arm. You look back and his face isn't angry yet but he's breathing heavily. He glances at the open parlor doors and whispers indignantly, “what are you doing? We have guests. You can't just lock yourself in your room.” You jerk your arm away and reply, “I can't lock myself in my room anyway! I don't have a fucking lock!“ Sally throws another hasty look to the parlor. Sighing with frustration he says, “please keep your voice down and don't swear.” “WHY?” you ask, raising your voice. Sally purses his lips and looks down momentarily. You cross your arms defensively. “Can't you let me do something good for you?” he asks, his voice trying to be gentle but the anger he feels roughs his words. You take a step down, now you're almost the same height. “Why can't you just let me. Just let me live. Let me choose my friends. Is it that much to ask for?” “Yes it is!“ he responds angrily, his voice still a whisper. You grind your teeth, you see Dina and Travis peeking out from behind the doors. Honestly, they'll hear no matter what. Sally swallows and lets out a breath. “$name, the world isn't the way you think. It's big and dangerous and it whips. I've gone through I've seen things—“ he stops and then says, “I just want to protect you from that. Honestly how well do you know those boys? I don't think you have the experience to know how to trust.” You scoff bitterly. “And who's fault is that? You never let me figure it out.” Sally tries to reach for your arm again but drops it. <hr>\ * [[Plead with him.|Page 374-TM*][$pleases to true]] * [[Escalate things.|Page 374-TM*][$nosies to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sitF>>\ With a grim face you stiffly walk over to your brother and sit down next to him. He brought to your mother's fine China tea set. He pours you a cup and slides it over to you. Mechanically you take it but don't attempt to take a sip. Dina and Travis chew the sandwiches slowly, avoiding eye contact with you and only lifting their heads up from their tea to look at each other or Sally. You feel your brother looking at you but you keep your eyes on your tea. He clears his throat and says, “$name, Dina and Travis came here to spend some time with you. They're very good kids and I feel you'll get along really well.” Sally's arranged a play date for you. This is because of Imre and Lorcan. “$name, say hello to our guests, please,” he urges. You slowly look over at him. His expression looks friendly but you know your brother well to know he's getting exasperated with you. <hr> * [[Do what he says.|Page 374-NF][$playnice to true]] * [[You're not playing.|Page 374-NF][$notnice to true]] <<elseif $byeF>>\ You shake your head, turn on your heel and walk out of the parlor. You brace yourself for the sermon as you hear your brother's footsteps behind you. Still, you try to readily ascend the stairs but he grabs your arm. You look back and his face isn't angry yet but he's breathing heavily. He glances at the open parlor doors and whispers indignantly, “what are you doing? We have guests. You can't just lock yourself in your room.” You jerk your arm away and reply, “I can't lock myself in my room anyway! I don't have a fucking lock!“ Sally throws another hasty look to the parlor. Sighing with frustration he says, “please keep your voice down and don't swear.” “WHY?” you ask, raising your voice. Sally purses his lips and looks down momentarily. You cross your arms defensively. “Can't you let me do something good for you?” he asks, his voice trying to be gentle but the anger he feels roughs his words. You take a step down, now you're almost the same height. “Why can't you just let me. Just let me live. Let me choose my friends. Is it that much to ask for?” “Yes it is!“ he responds angrily, his voice still a whisper. You grind your teeth, you see Dina and Travis peeking out from behind the doors. Honestly, they'll hear no matter what. Sally swallows and lets out a breath. “$name, the world isn't the way you think. It's big and dangerous and it whips. I've gone through I've seen things—“ he stops and then says, “I just want to protect you from that. Honestly how well do you know those boys? I don't think you have the experience to know how to trust.” You scoff bitterly. “And who's fault is that? You never let me figure it out.” Sally tries to reach for your arm again but drops it. <hr>\ * [[Plead with him.|Page 374-NF*][$pleases to true]] * [[Escalate things.|Page 374-NF*][$nosies to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $sitF>>\ With a grim face you stiffly walk over to your brother and sit down next to him. He brought to your mother's fine China tea set. He pours you a cup and slides it over to you. Mechanically you take it but don't attempt to take a sip. Dina and Travis chew the sandwiches slowly, avoiding eye contact with you and only lifting their heads up from their tea to look at each other or Sally. You feel your brother looking at you but you keep your eyes on your tea. He clears his throat and says, “$name, Dina and Travis came here to spend some time with you. They're very good kids and I feel you'll get along really well.” Sally's arranged a play date for you. This is because of Imre and Lorcan. “$name, say hello to our guests, please,” he urges. You slowly look over at him. His expression looks friendly but you know your brother well to know he's getting exasperated with you. <hr> * [[Do what he says.|Page 374-NM][$playnice to true]] * [[You're not playing.|Page 374-NM][$notnice to true]] <<elseif $byeF>>\ You shake your head, turn on your heel and walk out of the parlor. You brace yourself for the sermon as you hear your brother's footsteps behind you. Still, you try to readily ascend the stairs but he grabs your arm. You look back and his face isn't angry yet but he's breathing heavily. He glances at the open parlor doors and whispers indignantly, “what are you doing? We have guests. You can't just lock yourself in your room.” You jerk your arm away and reply, “I can't lock myself in my room anyway! I don't have a fucking lock!“ Sally throws another hasty look to the parlor. Sighing with frustration he says, “please keep your voice down and don't swear.” “WHY?” you ask, raising your voice. Sally purses his lips and looks down momentarily. You cross your arms defensively. “Can't you let me do something good for you?” he asks, his voice trying to be gentle but the anger he feels roughs his words. You take a step down, now you're almost the same height. “Why can't you just let me. Just let me live. Let me choose my friends. Is it that much to ask for?” “Yes it is!“ he responds angrily, his voice still a whisper. You grind your teeth, you see Dina and Travis peeking out from behind the doors. Honestly, they'll hear no matter what. Sally swallows and lets out a breath. “$name, the world isn't the way you think. It's big and dangerous and it whips. I've gone through I've seen things—“ he stops and then says, “I just want to protect you from that. Honestly how well do you know those boys? I don't think you have the experience to know how to trust.” You scoff bitterly. “And who's fault is that? You never let me figure it out.” Sally tries to reach for your arm again but drops it. <hr>\ * [[Plead with him.|Page 374-NM*][$pleases to true]] * [[Escalate things.|Page 374-NM*][$nosies to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $playnice>>\ You take a good minute to respond. Your reluctance mixed with your antisocial tendencies and the utter surprise of all of this leaves you scrambling for words. <<if $tname>>\ “Hi, I'm $tname. It's good to meet you I guess.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “$tname?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “That's my name now.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <<else>>\ “Hi. I'm $name. And like please refer to me like a boy.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “A boy?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “Yeah. I've been meaning to tell you.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <</if>> The coversations lulls from there, although Sally tries to revive it several times by asking mundance questions like “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The other two answer in one word questions and when Sally asks you what you think you reply, “cool.” Sally's smile droops a bit and it makes you feel conflicted. You kind of feel bad for not giving more effort but you also don't want to talk to these people. Sally suddenly brings up his watch and grimaces. Seeing your eyes on him he explains, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Dina, Travis, make yourselves at home,” he says kindly and giving you a look he gets up, passes you and leaves the parlor. Your eyes widen and you put your tea down. You go after him, not bothering to say anything to the other two. Sally's is putting on his coat when you get to him. He looks confused to see you walking up to him. “Is there something wrong?” he asks completely serious. “I don't know what to say to them,” you reply nervously. [[NEXT->Page 375]] <<elseif $notnice>>\ You refuse to engage. You stare down at your tea and count the seconds in your head. Your brother nudges you but you refuse to look up. <<if $tname>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry $name is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's $tname,” you mumble. “What?” “$tname,” you answer more firmly. <<else>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry she's is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's he,” you mumble. “What?” “He,” you answer more firmly. <</if>> Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. Neither Dina nor Travis audibly respond to that and you don't look up to see what they think of that excuse. You probably look like the freak they've heard about, just staring down at your cup like a weirdo. “$name, don't you want to ask Dina and Travis a question?” Hell no. You don't budge. You can feel how annoyed Sally is getting. But you did the most you're willing to do, you could've walked out of here. Maybe that would've been for the best. A few minutes pass by in silence. The only noises in the room are sips and chews. It probably stays like that for five minutes but it feels like longer before Sally says, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Uh, can you drive us home? It's raining,” Dina asks. Sally pauses before answering tersely, “sure.” You keep still as they begin to get up. “Bye,” Travis says to you. You don't look up but you hear their feet moving. “All I wanted was for you to try,” Sally says quickly in your ear and you finally look up. He's bent down, so his face is close to yours. His expression isn't angry, it's... tired. “Sally—“ “I'll see you at dinner,” he interjects, not giving you time to respond before he's already out of the parlor. [[NEXT->Page 377]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pleases>>\ You take a deep breath, trying, trying so hard not to explode at him. You remind yourself that with Sally getting angry just makes things worse. You remind yourself that he does love you in his own way. You repeat this in your head and then say, more calmly, “I just don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this.” “Why can you do it with those boys but not with two kids who would be a better influence on you?” he asks, his voice gentler than before. He really doesn't see, does he? “Maybe because those are people I choose to spend time with? No one makes friends by having their brother set up a playdate,” you say incredulously. “That's not how I meant it. I just want—“ he sighs, “I want you to have some distance from them. That's all.” “You haven't told me why. Like for Lorcan, I get it. He has a reputation but Imre?” “I know that boy better than you. Trust me, he doesn't care about anyone more than himself,” Sally states. You don't respond. You can't. Sally takes your hands and squeezes them. “I just don't want you getting into things that could hurt you and I don't only mean physically.” “You think I'm going crazy again?” you ask. It hurts, thinking that. Sally is the only person who has never said that to you. “I think....,” he pauses and looks at your hands, “I think that you're stressed and people under stress don't make the best choices.” <<if $tname>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to call me $tname now. I'm a he,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <<else>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to refer to me by 'him' from now on,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <</if>> Sally doesn't say anything. He never thought of this possibility. You $habit. Sally let's go of your hands and looks to the parlor. “I'll take them home. But I haven't changed my mind and I don't want those boys coming here anymore,” he declares. You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <<elseif $nosies>>\ Sally has done so much for you. He raised you in ways your parents wouldn't and couldn't but you're not a defenceless idiot who needs to hold his hand. He can't keep you locked away forever. “You can't dictate my life for me. I'm eighteen, I'm legally an adult and all you do is treat me like I'm eight,” you complain. Sally raises his eyebrows. “I don't do that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to look out for you because $name, you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. People can be awful, especially the ones who come to you with a smile. And that's my fault. I should've taught you that.” <<if $tname>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by $tname now because yeah I'm a boy if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <<else>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by he now, yeah I'm a boy if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <</if>>\ “I'm learning that fine on my own. I survived a mental asylum by my own Sally. I'm not useless,” you continue, anger heating your face. “I didn't say you were!“ Sally raises his voice and looks to the parlor. He rubs his face and says, “maybe it was a mistake taking you out of the hospital so soon. Your doctor told us that you needed more help.” Your eyes widen. You feel your hands ball into fists, shaking with rage. “Are you really saying that if I don't do what you tell me to do that you'll send me back?” Sally shakes his head vigorously. “No that's not what I said, you misunderstood.” “It's what you implied!“ you shout. “If I wanted to I could've sent you back at any time! I haven't because I love you!“ he shouts back. But you don't hear the rest. You only hear that he could. That that's what's in his power. “I thought I couldn't be sent back after I turned eighteen,” you say more to yourself. “Yeah, that's usually how it goes but Father thought it was best to get you a legally appointed guardian,” Sally explains, sheepishly. You inhale deeply to try and dispel the rage in your chest. “And I'm guessing that's you? You have the power to institutionalize me whenever you want.” Sally tries to grab your hand but you maintain it stiffly by your side. Instead he just pats it gently. “But I won't.” “But what if I don't do what you say ever again?” you ask, unsure and nervous about the answer. He lets go of your hand and steps back. Suddenly, he smiles. A cheery smile as if you said a funny joke. “I should get Dina and Travis home. I'll tell them you're not feeling well. See you at dinner sweetheart.” You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look smile before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $playnice>>\ You take a good minute to respond. Your reluctance mixed with your antisocial tendencies and the utter surprise of all of this leaves you scrambling for words. <<if $tname>>\ “Hi, I'm $tname. It's good to meet you I guess.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “$tname?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “That's my name now.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <<else>>\ “Hi. I'm $name. And like please refer to me like a girl.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “A girl?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “Yeah. I've been meaning to tell you.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <</if>> The coversations lulls from there, although Sally tries to revive it several times by asking mundance questions like “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The other two answer in one word questions and when Sally asks you what you think you reply, “cool.” Sally's smile droops a bit and it makes you feel conflicted. You kind of feel bad for not giving more effort but you also don't want to talk to these people. Sally suddenly brings up his watch and grimaces. Seeing your eyes on him he explains, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Dina, Travis, make yourselves at home,” he says kindly and giving you a look he gets up, passes you and leaves the parlor. Your eyes widen and you put your tea down. You go after him, not bothering to say anything to the other two. Sally's is putting on his coat when you get to him. He looks confused to see you walking up to him. “Is there something wrong?” he asks completely serious. “I don't know what to say to them,” you reply nervously. [[NEXT->Page 375]] <<elseif $notnice>>\ You refuse to engage. You stare down at your tea and count the seconds in your head. Your brother nudges you but you refuse to look up. <<if $tname>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry $name is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's $tname,” you mumble. “What?” “$tname,” you answer more firmly. <<else>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry he's is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's she,” you mumble. “What?” “She,” you answer more firmly. <</if>> Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. Neither Dina nor Travis audibly respond to that and you don't look up to see what they think of that excuse. You probably look like the freak they've heard about, just staring down at your cup like a weirdo. “$name, don't you want to ask Dina and Travis a question?” Hell no. You don't budge. You can feel how annoyed Sally is getting. But you did the most you're willing to do, you could've walked out of here. Maybe that would've been for the best. A few minutes pass by in silence. The only noises in the room are sips and chews. It probably stays like that for five minutes but it feels like longer before Sally says, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Uh, can you drive us home? It's raining,” Dina asks. Sally pauses before answering tersely, “sure.” You keep still as they begin to get up. “Bye,” Travis says to you. You don't look up but you hear their feet moving. “All I wanted was for you to try,” Sally says quickly in your ear and you finally look up. He's bent down, so his face is close to yours. His expression isn't angry, it's... tired. “Sally—“ “I'll see you at dinner,” he interjects, not giving you time to respond before he's already out of the parlor. [[NEXT->Page 377]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pleases>>\ You take a deep breath, trying, trying so hard not to explode at him. You remind yourself that with Sally getting angry just makes things worse. You remind yourself that he does love you in his own way. You repeat this in your head and then say, more calmly, “I just don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this.” “Why can you do it with those boys but not with two kids who would be a better influence on you?” he asks, his voice gentler than before. He really doesn't see, does he? “Maybe because those are people I choose to spend time with? No one makes friends by having their brother set up a playdate,” you say incredulously. “That's not how I meant it. I just want—“ he sighs, “I want you to have some distance from them. That's all.” “You haven't told me why. Like for Lorcan, I get it. He has a reputation but Imre?” “I know that boy better than you. Trust me, he doesn't care about anyone more than himself,” Sally states. You don't respond. You can't. Sally takes your hands and squeezes them. “I just don't want you getting into things that could hurt you and I don't only mean physically.” “You think I'm going crazy again?” you ask. It hurts, thinking that. Sally is the only person who has never said that to you. “I think....,” he pauses and looks at your hands, “I think that you're stressed and people under stress don't make the best choices.” <<if $tname>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to call me $tname now. I'm a she,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <<else>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to refer to me by 'she' from now on,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <</if>> Sally doesn't say anything. He never thought of this possibility. You $habit. Sally let's go of your hands and looks to the parlor. “I'll take them home. But I haven't changed my mind and I don't want those boys coming here anymore,” he declares. You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <<elseif $nosies>>\ Sally has done so much for you. He raised you in ways your parents wouldn't and couldn't but you're not a defenceless idiot who needs to hold his hand. He can't keep you locked away forever. “You can't dictate my life for me. I'm eighteen, I'm legally an adult and all you do is treat me like I'm eight,” you complain. Sally raises his eyebrows. “I don't do that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to look out for you because $name, you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. People can be awful, especially the ones who come to you with a smile. And that's my fault. I should've taught you that.” <<if $tname>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by $tname now because yeah I'm a girl if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <<else>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by she now, yeah I'm a girl if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <</if>>\ “I'm learning that fine on my own. I survived a mental asylum by my own Sally. I'm not useless,” you continue, anger heating your face. “I didn't say you were!“ Sally raises his voice and looks to the parlor. He rubs his face and says, “maybe it was a mistake taking you out of the hospital so soon. Your doctor told us that you needed more help.” Your eyes widen. You feel your hands ball into fists, shaking with rage. “Are you really saying that if I don't do what you tell me to do that you'll send me back?” Sally shakes his head vigorously. “No that's not what I said, you misunderstood.” “It's what you implied!“ you shout. “If I wanted to I could've sent you back at any time! I haven't because I love you!“ he shouts back. But you don't hear the rest. You only hear that he could. That that's what's in his power. “I thought I couldn't be sent back after I turned eighteen,” you say more to yourself. “Yeah, that's usually how it goes but Father thought it was best to get you a legally appointed guardian,” Sally explains, sheepishly. You inhale deeply to try and dispel the rage in your chest. “And I'm guessing that's you? You have the power to institutionalize me whenever you want.” Sally tries to grab your hand but you maintain it stiffly by your side. Instead he just pats it gently. “But I won't.” “But what if I don't do what you say ever again?” you ask, unsure and nervous about the answer. He lets go of your hand and steps back. Suddenly, he smiles. A cheery smile as if you said a funny joke. “I should get Dina and Travis home. I'll tell them you're not feeling well. See you at dinner sweetheart.” You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look smile before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $playnice>>\ You take a good minute to respond. Your reluctance mixed with your antisocial tendencies and the utter surprise of all of this leaves you scrambling for words. <<if $tname>>\ “Hi, I'm $tname. It's good to meet you I guess.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “$tname?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “That's my name now.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <<else>>\ “Hi. I'm $name. And like please refer to me in gender neutral terms.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “Gender neutral?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “Yeah. I've been meaning to tell you.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <</if>> The coversations lulls from there, although Sally tries to revive it several times by asking mundance questions like “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The other two answer in one word questions and when Sally asks you what you think you reply, “cool.” Sally's smile droops a bit and it makes you feel conflicted. You kind of feel bad for not giving more effort but you also don't want to talk to these people. Sally suddenly brings up his watch and grimaces. Seeing your eyes on him he explains, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Dina, Travis, make yourselves at home,” he says kindly and giving you a look he gets up, passes you and leaves the parlor. Your eyes widen and you put your tea down. You go after him, not bothering to say anything to the other two. Sally's is putting on his coat when you get to him. He looks confused to see you walking up to him. “Is there something wrong?” he asks completely serious. “I don't know what to say to them,” you reply nervously. [[NEXT->Page 375]] <<elseif $notnice>>\ You refuse to engage. You stare down at your tea and count the seconds in your head. Your brother nudges you but you refuse to look up. <<if $tname>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry $name is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's $tname,” you mumble. “What?” “$tname,” you answer more firmly. <<else>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry he's is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's them,” you mumble. “What?” “them,” you answer more firmly. <</if>> Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. Neither Dina nor Travis audibly respond to that and you don't look up to see what they think of that excuse. You probably look like the freak they've heard about, just staring down at your cup like a weirdo. “$name, don't you want to ask Dina and Travis a question?” Hell no. You don't budge. You can feel how annoyed Sally is getting. But you did the most you're willing to do, you could've walked out of here. Maybe that would've been for the best. A few minutes pass by in silence. The only noises in the room are sips and chews. It probably stays like that for five minutes but it feels like longer before Sally says, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Uh, can you drive us home? It's raining,” Dina asks. Sally pauses before answering tersely, “sure.” You keep still as they begin to get up. “Bye,” Travis says to you. You don't look up but you hear their feet moving. “All I wanted was for you to try,” Sally says quickly in your ear and you finally look up. He's bent down, so his face is close to yours. His expression isn't angry, it's... tired. “Sally—“ “I'll see you at dinner,” he interjects, not giving you time to respond before he's already out of the parlor. [[NEXT->Page 377]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pleases>>\ You take a deep breath, trying, trying so hard not to explode at him. You remind yourself that with Sally getting angry just makes things worse. You remind yourself that he does love you in his own way. You repeat this in your head and then say, more calmly, “I just don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this.” “Why can you do it with those boys but not with two kids who would be a better influence on you?” he asks, his voice gentler than before. He really doesn't see, does he? “Maybe because those are people I choose to spend time with? No one makes friends by having their brother set up a playdate,” you say incredulously. “That's not how I meant it. I just want—“ he sighs, “I want you to have some distance from them. That's all.” “You haven't told me why. Like for Lorcan, I get it. He has a reputation but Imre?” “I know that boy better than you. Trust me, he doesn't care about anyone more than himself,” Sally states. You don't respond. You can't. Sally takes your hands and squeezes them. “I just don't want you getting into things that could hurt you and I don't only mean physically.” “You think I'm going crazy again?” you ask. It hurts, thinking that. Sally is the only person who has never said that to you. “I think....,” he pauses and looks at your hands, “I think that you're stressed and people under stress don't make the best choices.” <<if $tname>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to call me $tname now. I'm not he or she I'm just me,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <<else>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to refer to me by 'them' from now on,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <</if>> Sally doesn't say anything. He never thought of this possibility. You $habit. Sally let's go of your hands and looks to the parlor. “I'll take them home. But I haven't changed my mind and I don't want those boys coming here anymore,” he declares. You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <<elseif $nosies>>\ Sally has done so much for you. He raised you in ways your parents wouldn't and couldn't but you're not a defenceless idiot who needs to hold his hand. He can't keep you locked away forever. “You can't dictate my life for me. I'm eighteen, I'm legally an adult and all you do is treat me like I'm eight,” you complain. Sally raises his eyebrows. “I don't do that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to look out for you because $name, you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. People can be awful, especially the ones who come to you with a smile. And that's my fault. I should've taught you that.” <<if $tname>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by $tname now because yeah I'm not a boy or a girl if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <<else>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by them now, yeah I'm not a boy or a girl if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <</if>>\ “I'm learning that fine on my own. I survived a mental asylum by my own Sally. I'm not useless,” you continue, anger heating your face. “I didn't say you were!“ Sally raises his voice and looks to the parlor. He rubs his face and says, “maybe it was a mistake taking you out of the hospital so soon. Your doctor told us that you needed more help.” Your eyes widen. You feel your hands ball into fists, shaking with rage. “Are you really saying that if I don't do what you tell me to do that you'll send me back?” Sally shakes his head vigorously. “No that's not what I said, you misunderstood.” “It's what you implied!“ you shout. “If I wanted to I could've sent you back at any time! I haven't because I love you!“ he shouts back. But you don't hear the rest. You only hear that he could. That that's what's in his power. “I thought I couldn't be sent back after I turned eighteen,” you say more to yourself. “Yeah, that's usually how it goes but Father thought it was best to get you a legally appointed guardian,” Sally explains, sheepishly. You inhale deeply to try and dispel the rage in your chest. “And I'm guessing that's you? You have the power to institutionalize me whenever you want.” Sally tries to grab your hand but you maintain it stiffly by your side. Instead he just pats it gently. “But I won't.” “But what if I don't do what you say ever again?” you ask, unsure and nervous about the answer. He lets go of your hand and steps back. Suddenly, he smiles. A cheery smile as if you said a funny joke. “I should get Dina and Travis home. I'll tell them you're not feeling well. See you at dinner sweetheart.” You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look smile before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $playnice>>\ You take a good minute to respond. Your reluctance mixed with your antisocial tendencies and the utter surprise of all of this leaves you scrambling for words. <<if $tname>>\ “Hi, I'm $tname. It's good to meet you I guess.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “$tname?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “That's my name now.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <<else>>\ “Hi. I'm $name. And like please refer to me in gender neutral terms.” Your words come out without the warmth you wanted them too. “Gender neutral?” Sally asks. You're about to answer him but you don't feel like it's a conversation you should have here. “Yeah. I've been meaning to tell you.” Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. “Hi,” they both say in unison. At least they're as unenthusiastic as you. <</if>> The coversations lulls from there, although Sally tries to revive it several times by asking mundance questions like “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The other two answer in one word questions and when Sally asks you what you think you reply, “cool.” Sally's smile droops a bit and it makes you feel conflicted. You kind of feel bad for not giving more effort but you also don't want to talk to these people. Sally suddenly brings up his watch and grimaces. Seeing your eyes on him he explains, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Dina, Travis, make yourselves at home,” he says kindly and giving you a look he gets up, passes you and leaves the parlor. Your eyes widen and you put your tea down. You go after him, not bothering to say anything to the other two. Sally's is putting on his coat when you get to him. He looks confused to see you walking up to him. “Is there something wrong?” he asks completely serious. “I don't know what to say to them,” you reply nervously. [[NEXT->Page 375]] <<elseif $notnice>>\ You refuse to engage. You stare down at your tea and count the seconds in your head. Your brother nudges you but you refuse to look up. <<if $tname>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry $name is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's $tname,” you mumble. “What?” “$tname,” you answer more firmly. <<else>>\ Sally apologizes, “I'm sorry she's is a bit shy. We don't receive many visits.” “It's them,” you mumble. “What?” “them,” you answer more firmly. <</if>> Sally looks confused but fortunately doesn't press further. Neither Dina nor Travis audibly respond to that and you don't look up to see what they think of that excuse. You probably look like the freak they've heard about, just staring down at your cup like a weirdo. “$name, don't you want to ask Dina and Travis a question?” Hell no. You don't budge. You can feel how annoyed Sally is getting. But you did the most you're willing to do, you could've walked out of here. Maybe that would've been for the best. A few minutes pass by in silence. The only noises in the room are sips and chews. It probably stays like that for five minutes but it feels like longer before Sally says, “I have to go back to the office there's someone I have a meeting with.” “Uh, can you drive us home? It's raining,” Dina asks. Sally pauses before answering tersely, “sure.” You keep still as they begin to get up. “Bye,” Travis says to you. You don't look up but you hear their feet moving. “All I wanted was for you to try,” Sally says quickly in your ear and you finally look up. He's bent down, so his face is close to yours. His expression isn't angry, it's... tired. “Sally—“ “I'll see you at dinner,” he interjects, not giving you time to respond before he's already out of the parlor. [[NEXT->Page 377]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pleases>>\ You take a deep breath, trying, trying so hard not to explode at him. You remind yourself that with Sally getting angry just makes things worse. You remind yourself that he does love you in his own way. You repeat this in your head and then say, more calmly, “I just don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this.” “Why can you do it with those boys but not with two kids who would be a better influence on you?” he asks, his voice gentler than before. He really doesn't see, does he? “Maybe because those are people I choose to spend time with? No one makes friends by having their brother set up a playdate,” you say incredulously. “That's not how I meant it. I just want—“ he sighs, “I want you to have some distance from them. That's all.” “You haven't told me why. Like for Lorcan, I get it. He has a reputation but Imre?” “I know that boy better than you. Trust me, he doesn't care about anyone more than himself,” Sally states. You don't respond. You can't. Sally takes your hands and squeezes them. “I just don't want you getting into things that could hurt you and I don't only mean physically.” “You think I'm going crazy again?” you ask. It hurts, thinking that. Sally is the only person who has never said that to you. “I think....,” he pauses and looks at your hands, “I think that you're stressed and people under stress don't make the best choices.” <<if $tname>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to call me $tname now. I'm a thm,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <<else>>\ “Well speaking of my choices. I want you to refer to me by 'them' from now on,” you inform him. Sally seems caught off guard. “What?” “It's just what I want.” <</if>> Sally doesn't say anything. He never thought of this possibility. You $habit. Sally let's go of your hands and looks to the parlor. “I'll take them home. But I haven't changed my mind and I don't want those boys coming here anymore,” he declares. You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <<elseif $nosies>>\ Sally has done so much for you. He raised you in ways your parents wouldn't and couldn't but you're not a defenceless idiot who needs to hold his hand. He can't keep you locked away forever. “You can't dictate my life for me. I'm eighteen, I'm legally an adult and all you do is treat me like I'm eight,” you complain. Sally raises his eyebrows. “I don't do that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to look out for you because $name, you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. People can be awful, especially the ones who come to you with a smile. And that's my fault. I should've taught you that.” <<if $tname>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by $tname now because yeah I'm a them if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <<else>>\ “You're so... you can't even see how different I am now. I go by he now, yeah I'm a them if you care,” you admit. “What?” Sally's expression of annoyance morphs into confusion and it pisses you off. “You heard me.” <</if>>\ “I'm learning that fine on my own. I survived a mental asylum by my own Sally. I'm not useless,” you continue, anger heating your face. “I didn't say you were!“ Sally raises his voice and looks to the parlor. He rubs his face and says, “maybe it was a mistake taking you out of the hospital so soon. Your doctor told us that you needed more help.” Your eyes widen. You feel your hands ball into fists, shaking with rage. “Are you really saying that if I don't do what you tell me to do that you'll send me back?” Sally shakes his head vigorously. “No that's not what I said, you misunderstood.” “It's what you implied!“ you shout. “If I wanted to I could've sent you back at any time! I haven't because I love you!“ he shouts back. But you don't hear the rest. You only hear that he could. That that's what's in his power. “I thought I couldn't be sent back after I turned eighteen,” you say more to yourself. “Yeah, that's usually how it goes but Father thought it was best to get you a legally appointed guardian,” Sally explains, sheepishly. You inhale deeply to try and dispel the rage in your chest. “And I'm guessing that's you? You have the power to institutionalize me whenever you want.” Sally tries to grab your hand but you maintain it stiffly by your side. Instead he just pats it gently. “But I won't.” “But what if I don't do what you say ever again?” you ask, unsure and nervous about the answer. He lets go of your hand and steps back. Suddenly, he smiles. A cheery smile as if you said a funny joke. “I should get Dina and Travis home. I'll tell them you're not feeling well. See you at dinner sweetheart.” You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look smile before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $pleases>>\ You take a deep breath, trying, trying so hard not to explode at him. You remind yourself that with Sally getting angry just makes things worse. You remind yourself that he does love you in his own way. You repeat this in your head and then say, more calmly, “I just don't want to do this. Please don't make me do this.” “Why can you do it with those boys but not with two kids who would be a better influence on you?” he asks, his voice gentler than before. He really doesn't see, does he? “Maybe because those are people I choose to spend time with? No one makes friends by having their brother set up a playdate,” you say incredulously. “That's not how I meant it. I just want—“ he sighs, “I want you to have some distance from them. That's all.” “You haven't told me why. Like for Lorcan, I get it. He has a reputation but Imre?” “I know that boy better than you. Trust me, he doesn't care about anyone more than himself,” Sally states. You don't respond. You can't. Sally takes your hands and squeezes them. “I just don't want you getting into things that could hurt you and I don't only mean physically.” “You think I'm going crazy again?” you ask. It hurts, thinking that. Sally is the only person who has never said that to you. “I think....,” he pauses and looks at your hands, “I think that you're stressed and people under stress don't make the best choices.” You $habit. Sally let's go of your hands and looks to the parlor. “I'll take them home. But I haven't changed my mind and I don't want those boys coming here anymore,” he declares. You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <<elseif $nosies>>\ Sally has done so much for you. He raised you in ways your parents wouldn't and couldn't but you're not a defenceless idiot who needs to hold his hand. He can't keep you locked away forever. “You can't dictate my life for me. I'm eighteen, I'm legally an adult and all you do is treat me like I'm eight,” you complain. Sally raises his eyebrows. “I don't do that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to look out for you because $name, you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. People can be awful, especially the ones who come to you with a smile. And that's my fault. I should've taught you that.” “I'm learning that fine on my own. I survived a mental asylum by my own Sally. I'm not useless,” you respond, anger heating your face. “I didn't say you were!“ Sally raises his voice and looks to the parlor. He rubs his face and says, “maybe it was a mistake taking you out of the hospital so soon. Your doctor told us that you needed more help.” Your eyes widen. You feel your hands ball into fists, shaking with rage. “Are you really saying that if I don't do what you tell me to do that you'll send me back?” Sally shakes his head vigorously. “No that's not what I said, you misunderstood.” “It's what you implied!“ you shout. “If I wanted to I could've sent you back at any time! I haven't because I love you!“ he shouts back. But you don't hear the rest. You only hear that he could. That that's what's in his power. “I thought I couldn't be sent back after I turned eighteen,” you say more to yourself. “Yeah, that's usually how it goes but Father thought it was best to get you a legally appointed guardian,” Sally explains, sheepishly. You inhale deeply to try and dispel the rage in your chest. “And I'm guessing that's you? You have the power to institutionalize me whenever you want.” Sally tries to grab your hand but you maintain it stiffly by your side. Instead he just pats it gently. “But I won't.” “But what if I don't do what you say ever again?” you ask, unsure and nervous about the answer. He lets go of your hand and steps back. Suddenly, he smiles. A cheery smile as if you said a funny joke. “I should get Dina and Travis home. I'll tell them you're not feeling well. See you at dinner sweetheart.” You watch as Sally leads your playmates to the door. They steal glances at you and whisper amongst themselves. Sally gives you one last look smile before he leaves. Rubbing your throbbing forehead you run up the stairs. [[NEXT->Page 375*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Sally smiles in amusement. Shaking his head goodnaturedly he suggests, “just say random things until you land on something they're interested in. Maybe academics? Sports?” “Sally, I really don't know how to do this,” you admit. Sally gives you a sympathetic look but he's already opening the door. “I'm sure you'll do great. Make friends, this is your perfect opportunity.” //Make the friends he picks out for you.// He gives you a quick kiss on your head and is already out the door. The door shuts with a loud bang and the silence that remains is too loud. You hear quiet voices talking in the parlor room. <hr>\ * [[Sit back down.|Page 376][$sitp to true]] * [[Ask them to leave.|Page 376][$nopl to true]] </h3>

<h3>And now here you lay, staring at the ceiling, sometimes you look at the shadows the trees make on your wall for some variety. You intake a breath as a sharp sliver of pain pierces your forehead. Your migraine is just leaving but it has a habit of making its departure as slow and painful as possible. You're trying to not grind your teeth together anymore because all you end up doing is risking breakage. But you can't help it when you get migraines that wake you up from the little sleep you get. The migraines are becoming too frequent. Almost everyday now. Stress. <<if $skin is 'pale'>>\ You poke your underbags and groan. Puffy and tender. You're paler than the moon. It stands out so much you kept getting asked if everything's ok. <<elseif $skin is 'fair'>>\ You poke your underbags and groan. Puffy and tender. You're already fair skin has turned pale. It stands out so much you kept getting asked if everything's ok. <<elseif $skin is 'tanned'>>\ You poke your underbags and groan. Puffy and tender. You're tan so it slighty masks how bad they are but you still got people asking you if everything's ok. <<elseif $skin is 'brown'>>\ You poke your underbags and groan. Puffy and tender. You're brown so it's hard to tell which is probably a good thing, you don't need more things for Sally to worry about. <<elseif $skin is 'dark brown'>>\ You poke your underbags and groan. Puffy and tender. You're dark brown so no one can telll which is probably a good thing, you don't need more things for Sally to worry about. <</if>>\ You've gone to the pharmacy to ask if they can do anything about it but since you're supposedly taking your other medication they don't want to mix them. All you know is that they keep getting worse. Nothing has ever been so debiliating. And not only that. You're losing time. [[NEXT->Page 378]] </h3>

<h3><<if $sitp>>\ You wearily walk back to the parlor. Dina and Travis have finished their tea and are nibbling on the last sandwiches. You sit back down where you were and clasp your hands in front of you. Looking at both of them you try to come up with what to say. It's hard. You don't know how to make small talk. “You ask,” Dina whispers. Travis makes a face but makes eye contact with you. “Is it true that this place is haunted?” That's not what you expected to hear. “Huh?” “Ronnie Miller said he saw Orla in one of the windows when he delivered the paper a few weeks ago,” Dina chimes in. “Orla's ghost?” you ask. “Yeah,” they both say, leaning in closer. “Uh,” you ponder this, “I haven't seen her.” //Filthy little liar.// They both deflate and their minimal interest in you weans and the rest of their visit in silent and uncomfortable. Finally after they finish off their sandwiches they make an excuse to leave. “Yeah I should go help her with that,” Travis says and they both don't even put on their coats properly before speedwalking to the doors. “Ok, well bye—“ you barely finish before the door slams. You stay in that spot for a few seconds and then dash up the stairs. Closing your door you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <<elseif $nopl>>\ Nope. You're not doing this. You could only handle it with your brother here. You wearily walk back to the parlor. Dina and Travis have finished their tea and are nibbling on the last sandwiches. You remain standing and they look up at you wiith curious expressions. “I think you guys need to leave now,” you state. They exchange glances. Gina nudges him and Travis rolls his eyes but asks, “is it true that this place is haunted?” That's not what you expected to hear. “Huh?” “Ronnie Miller said he saw Orla in one of the windows when he delivered the paper a few weeks ago,” Dina chimes in. “Get out of my house before I do make this house has some two new ghosts,” you threaten angrily. They look at each other for a brief second and then at you before dashing up with their coats. Dina gets out first, Travis trips over his shoes. “Wait for me!“ he screams at his friend but the girl has already run out the door. He looks back at you, standing there with your hands on your hips and a glare in your eyes as you look down at him. He scrambles up and scurries to the door. You follow and when you look out the open door you shout, “and don't fucking come back!“ You slam the door. And a small smile curves on your face. You practically skip up the steps to the upper floor. Closing the door to your room, you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 377]] </h3>

<h3><<if $garlic>>\ The prick of his fangs is painful. Not the type of pain you'd expect from sharp teeth but rather what 'hurts' is the pressure. It feels like your skin is being pushed in, and it's not as sexy as the movies make it out to be. Instead of desire you're just hyper aware of how awkwardly you're positioned right now. Jay pulls his fangs out and the cool night air on your wounds makes you groan. You lift your head up and see Jay licking his bloody lips. He then rolls those very lips, a strange look on his face. He sees you noticing and he touches his nail to your bites. “You've been eating garlic, haven't you?” Your voice comes out weak as you reply, “for every meal.” Jay brings the finger that was caressing your wounds closer to himself and curiously examines the blood. “Huh.” He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks. When he takes his finger out, he still has that odd look on his face. He looks back at you, “but it's not that. There's something different about your blood. I don't think I've ever tried human blood that tastes like this.” “Jay!“ Lucy yells. You can't see her behind him. “Let the kid go. You did this so that you wouldn't eat people anymore. An 18 year old doesn't deserve to die so young.” Jay apparently doesn't hear her words and brings his mouth to your neck. You manage to let out a little gasp as he starts taking long gulps. You can feel the life leaving you. You can feel the blood being suctioned out of your body. You can feel yourself being dragged into eternal sleep. Oh, how peaceful and comforting it is to welcome the darkness in your vision. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ <<if $tname>>$tname Crown: 1975-1994.<<else>>$name Crown: 1975-1994.<</if>> //“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at Episode 6.->Episode 6 Sponsor]] <<elseif $crosses>>\ You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing yourself for fang penetration. You run through what you know about vampire bites, it's said that it can be pleasurable. Maybe your death won't be that bad. You should've prepared more. Who will miss you when they find your body? And in what state will they find it in? What if Jay turns you instead? Could you handle being a vampire? You already have enough problems... You're abruptly dropped. You land on your ass and your cut hand slams against the concrete. You wind up your bleeding palm in your shirt. Jay hisses and steps back, covering most of his face with his cloak, his squinting eyes peering over his arm. “How ghastly!“ he complains. You look around in confusion. You point to yourself. “Yes you!“ he asserts. You scoff, “well that's just a bit rude. I'm not that ugly.” You shake your head and look down at your palm and you catch sight of your silver crosses glinting from the streetlight. “Oh,” you say.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> Jay is still covering himself from them, backing away slowly. Lucy runs to his side and grips his arm. “Oh thank God!“ “Don't say that name!“ he demands. “Oh right, sorry!“ she apologizes hastily. Eventually Jay calms down enough to go inside the house with you and Lucy who treats your cut. He still maintains his distance. Lucy ends up driving you home, Jay sulks in the backseat. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-12]] <<elseif $spell>>\ “Wait!“ you scream. Jay pauses inches from your throat, you can feel his breath on your throat. With mouth open he leans back, his red eyes looking irritated at having been interrupted. You laugh breathlessly. “Don't you want to try from my hand first?” Jay's wild eyes flick down to where your hand is trapped between your bodies. He grasps it and brings it up to his face. He inhales it deeply. He's savouring his meal. The words of the spell, the one you made yourself repeat over and over again until you got it right. Luckily, he's sniffing so intensely he doesn't notice your bloody thumb rise to his forehead and clumsily draw the simple symbol. //“Qui curat omnia defendat me ex hoc daemonium eum in armis et numquam vadat.”// Jay's eyes snap open as the final word leaves your lips. His nose is smeared with your blood, his eyes are wide in alarm but they have that hint of glaze that prevents him from reacting too quickly. You feel warm. No, not warm. You feel hot. Your chest, your arms, your face are heating up. You squirm out of Jay's embrace. He looks down at his body, still confused. When you're away from him you feel the cool breeze of night. You're temperature is fine. You look down at your palm, the body has already dried. A scream pierces the air. You look up to see Jay's body being enveloped in flames. You're frozen as the bright yellow flames attack his clothes, then his skin. His screams are terrifying, more cruel than the most wounded animal. You watch, unable to look away as the flames envelop him completely. His final screams end up painfully rasps. Then they disappear, as if someone had doused him in water. His blackened body falls to the ground and crumbles away like ash. Holy shit. Before you can process what you did another scream pierces the air. Lucy runs down the stairs of her porch and falls to her knees next to the the darkened place where Jay once was. Chocked sobs escape her lips. What a mess. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-12]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $crosses>>\ You groan when you remember how late it is and how your brother will definitely notice if you come in through the front. You could try to climb up the tree but it's been raining and you're not the most agile in dry weather. You turn in your seat and look at Jay. “You can't expect me to be anywhere near you after what just happened right?” You roll your eyes. “I have the crosses, you can't hurt me. Anyway, you owe me for trying to eat me.” “I don't owe you cause this was a possible consequence of the job and you took it,” he counters. “Pleaseeeeeee?” “It's the least you can do after trying to make the kid your lunch, don't be a dick,” Luch chimes in. Jay groans but he gets out of the car is already under your window before you've even unbuckled your seat belt. You go to him and before you can even grip him he has you pressed to his chest and flying up to your window. It feels weird to levitate. Even with someone doing all the work for you. Jay holds onto you as you lean forward and push your window sash up. You crawl through it and turn out to see Jay with his arms crossed. “Thanks for stopping me,” he says without much gratefulness in his voice. “Just doing my job,” you reply. Jay doesn't immediately float down, instead he seems to be pondering. He slips a ring off his finger and places it on the window sill. He gives you a nod and disappears. You pick up the ring, a big blood red ruby is encased in a sort of flower with a steeply black band. It looks like one of those gaudy class rings. But it's probably vintage. It's too big for you so you throw it in your drawer. <<elseif $spell>>\ You have to wait around awkwardy as Lucy spends the next thirty minutes crying over the outline of her friend's body. You don't know how to comfort so you just stand there looking away. Eventually you check your watch and realize how late it's gotten. It's cold and tactless but you bring yourself to tap her on the shoulder. From crying into her hands she looks up, her eyes bloodshot and tears staining her cheeks. She gives you a look full of sorrow and you look like an asshole when you ask her to take you home. That car ride is the most awkward of your life. Lucy silently cries all the way to the manor. You run your finger along the scabbed scar on your palm. You groan when Lucy pulls up to the porch as you remember that Sally will definitely hear you come in. Well, what can you do? You unbuckle your seatbelt and are about to leave when you look at Lucy who's pulling her nose into a napkin. “Sorry about Jay. I didn't really know that was going to happen,” you try to explain. Luch side eyes you and responds, her voice muffled by the napkin, “you used a spell you didn't even know? What's wrong with you?” “I don't know,” you admit. “You killed my friend. I know it was either you or him. But I can't stand to look at you so get the fuck out of my car,” she commands angrily. And you do. You've barely shut the door when she's peeling away. You walk to the front doors. You put your hand on the handle and brace yourself for the noise. The door you open creaks loud enough to wake the dead. You're not even in the house before you hear: “WHERE WERE YOU?” <</if>> [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>You slam the door of your room. You pace around, going from the window to the middle of the room and back. You want to scream. You want to tear your hair out. You want to lay under the covers and cry. If only you could. But not matter how hard you strain, the tears don't come. They never do. You flop down on the bed, arms outstretched and breathe in and out, hoping that your heart rate lowers. But that doesn't make your anger go away. It festers in your chest like a wound. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You drag your $holder over to you and take out your pack of cigarettes. You're too lazy and too anger to open the window so you light it inside. You suck on it deeply without bothering to let out the smoke much. You finish your cigarette in a few minutes and immediately light another. Your head grows dizzy and after the third cigarette you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>\ You drag your $holder over to you and take out your pills. You unscrew the cap and drop a few in your hand. You don't even count them anymore. You swallow them dry. You feel them individually crawl down your throat. Your head grows dizzy and after the edges of your vision start growing hazy you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ You drag your $holder over to you and take out your flask. You unscrew it and take a huge gulp without thinking. The painful burn has dulled with time. You keep swallowing as your eyes water with the smell. You keep going until the last drop and then throw the flash on the floor. It takes time for your vision to start growing hazy but it does and you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ You get up and go to the wall. It has various holes in it. You've tried to wipe the blood off but it's gone deep into the walls. No matter. Your punch is hard. It feels like it shattered your hand. You want to scream but you bite your lip hard. Cradling your hand you stumble to the desk and pull out a bandage. Your fingers from your other hand shake as you wrap your swollen knuckles. After, you crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ You look at the wall. You see the shadow of the branch from your tree on it. You watch the gentle breeze. You imagine the shadow expanding. It crawling over your wall. Seeping into your floorboards. Sliding up your legs. You watch your hands and the shadows begin one. The shadows make you undistinguisiable from the darkness. You're not you. You're disappearing. You hate when you get like this. You crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes tight. Miraculously, you manage to fall asleep. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 377]] </h3>

<h3>It happens after a migraine. It goes away and but it doesn't happen immediately after. It usually happens the next day. You can be anywhere and suddenly an hour has passed. You've done it when you're with the boys. They don't seem to notice, although Imre seems to be catching on that there's something strange going on with you. On top of all the other strange things. He doesn't say anything though, just observes. You have found things, stuff you apparently right when you lose time. At first you thought they were scribbles like the kind you do out of boredom in class. But as you looked at them closer you realized they were words, not in the Latin alphabet. They were letters you had never seen before. Elegant curls and sharp edges. No spaces in between to distinguish them. The loss of time feels like when you would go into one of your episodes. Now each time you get this feeling you won't be able to tell if it's that or you're losing time. You roll over to your side. Forcing yourself to not open them to see the silhouette. [[NEXT->Page 379]] </h3>

<h3>//Late October// For two of your three meals a day you have to stare at that pumpkin. You have no idea where Sally found it but it looks like it says slurs and smokes a pack a day. It's colouring is dull, it's lopsided, it's carved face is sinking because it might be rotting. None of you have thrown it out. Perhaps you all silently agree it somehow fits the state of affairs. That's as festive as your family gets nowadays. It's different for the town. In a way, Croun always has this air of Halloween year-round. The constant depressing weather and stink of death really does intice one to think the veil between the living and the dead is always thin here. But autumn and Halloween proper are when laws against what would be deemed 'possession of demonic material' are lax. People still can't publicly speak about the more fantastical residents, nor can they attempt to mingle in those affairs or indulge in 'influences from unsanctioned realities,' which is just jargon to say what outsiders would call 'magic.' Even so, costumes are still allowed, trick-or-treating in approved neighborhoods and decorations. The storefronts and streetlamps of Main Street are adorned with stickers, streamers, pumpkins, plastic skeletons, cobwebs. There's fake witches and werewolves at school and there's always some Halloween music playing from cars or outdoor speakers. You do admire the vibrant leaves. Croun isn't particularly pretty if you look closely, it just has a shiny gild but the red, orange, brown and yellow leaves that fall in great piles from the trees are beautiful. A gift from the tall forces of nature that usually aren't so kind to its people here. Although Halloween might be a lackluster event this year due to the murders. Just yesterday a toddler was found half way in an open storm drain. [[NEXT|Page 380]] </h3>

<h3>When they pulled her out she was missing her half her body. Her entrails moved this way and that with the rivulets of rain on the street. At least that's what Imre told you, he was on the scene as fast he could be. He didn't try to hide his excitement over this new feeding pattern of the murderer. Or lack of pattern. Lorcan went green and had to keep leaving the meeting to vomit. For someone so skinny, it's a wonder how he can barf so much. As for you, the news... <hr>\ * [[made you horrified.|Page 381][$deadtodno to true]] * [[enthusiased you.|Page 381][$deadtodyes to true]] * [[didn't make you feel much.|Page 381][$deadtodeh to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $deadtodno>>\ You have a stronger stomach than Lorcan but you could still feel your food turning and threatening to climb up your throat. <<set $Ethical += 1>> It's not as if the girls and Sammy hadn't been tragic but this was just a baby. So innocent and to meet such a horrible end makes you wish you could cry. It's just more misery ontop misery. <<elseif $deadtodyes>>\ You were almost bouncing off your seat when Imre related the scene back to you. You were thrilled because things were really revving up. Everyone was fair game and that made the investigation more pressing. <<set $Corrupt += 1>> You're exhilirated by thinking how much fun it is to go against a monster like this, every dead child just makes them more fierce. Just imagine being so free from morality... <<elseif $deadtodeh>>\ The details of the child's body didn't faze you. Knowing her age didn't move anything. Even imagining the girl's brutal final moments did nothing to you. You can't bring yourself to feel anything. It's not like you want more people to die. But you're so numb to it all, to horror and pain and death that you learned a long time ago how to prevent it from getting its claws into you. <</if>>\ After yesterday's quick briefing you agreed to meet today to figure out your next move.<<if $homei>>Imre stops the car in the back parking lot of town hall. The two of you walk towards the bench in a sad little park with rusted swings. Lorcan sits there, shivering. You both sit across from him. “T-took you g-guys long eno-enough,” Lorcan complains between chattering teeth. “Maybe you should get a winter coat, leather isn't suitable for this drastic drop in temperature,” Imre explains. “Are y-you going to buy it for m-me?” Lorcan asks sarcastically. Imre smiles and takes out his notepad. <<elseif $homel>>You and Lorcan are hugging your own respective bodies as you behind town hall towards the bench in a sad little park with rusted swings. Imre waits there, flicking through the newspaper. You both sit across from him. Imre brings his wrist to his face, “you've come late.” “Y-you try walking in t-this f-f-f- SHIT weather!“ Lorcan complains. “If you had come on time it wouldn't have been this cold,” Imre replies with an air of a school teacher. Lorcan, shaking, manages to lift his middle finger. <</if>>\ “Shall we get to it?” Imre asks. “P-please,” you say weakly. Your fingers throb. Like all these meetings go, Imre sets all the pieces of information in order and you usually go over them. It's hard to focus when your body is shivering so bad it feels like you're about to have a seizure. Crinkly leaves fly over the pages Imre sets on the table, he tapes the ends of the pages to the rotting wood. Sitting across from each other Imre and Lorcan couldn't be more different. Lorcan is shaking like a chihuahua, not covered well enough and with a corpse-like pallor while Imre is flushed, perfectly still and wearing a coat and matching gloves from one of those fashion houses. <<if $preppy>>\ You're more covered up then Lorcan and your new style change, spared you from the worst of the weather with a nice tweed coat. The problem lies with your thin scarf and <<cycle '$hat' autoselect>><<option 'beanie'>><<option 'trapper hat'>><<option 'ear muffs'>><<option 'salior cap'>><</cycle>> is abysmal. Imre seems to like your new clothes, Lorcan’s nose wrinkled when he saw your oxford shoes. <<elseif $grunge>>\ You're more covered up then Lorcan and your new style change, spared you from the worst of the weather with the nice denim coat. The problem lies with your thin scarf and <<cycle '$hat' autoselect>><<option 'beanie'>><<option 'trapper hat'>><<option 'ear muffs'>><<option 'salior cap'>><</cycle>> is abysmal. Lorcan stared at your new boots with awe and a bit of envy. <<elseif $function>>\ You're more covered up then Lorcan and your new style change, spared you from the worst of the weather with a nice wool coat. The problem lies with your thin scarf and <<cycle '$hat' autoselect>><<option 'beanie'>><<option 'trapper hat'>><<option 'ear muffs'>><<option 'salior cap'>><</cycle>> is abysmal. Imre complimented your sturdy pants and practical pants with its series of pockets. <<elseif $girly>>\ You're more covered up then Lorcan and your new style change, spared you from the worst of the weather with a nice fluffy coat. The problem lies with your thin scarf and <<cycle '$hat' autoselect>><<option 'beanie'>><<option 'trapper hat'>><<option 'ear muffs'>><<option 'salior cap'>><</cycle>> is abysmal. <<if $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ If the boys care about your more girlish clothing, they don’t mention it. Although you have been getting stares around town. Not many boys dress more like girls. As if, you weren’t used to it anyway. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ If the boys care about your more girlish clothing, they don’t mention it. Although you have been getting stares around town. To them you’re a boy who dresses like girl, you can’t even begin to explain that your a girl dressing like a girl. As if, you weren’t used to it anyway. <<else>>\ The boys ―well Imre, Lorcan's eyes widen but he says nothing more― seem to like your new clothes. <</if>> <<else>>\ You're more covered up then Lorcan but the problem is the quality of your coat, scarf and <<cycle '$hat' autoselect>><<option 'beanie'>><<option 'trapper hat'>><<option 'ear muffs'>><<option 'salior cap'>><</cycle>> is abysmal. <</if>> <<if $homei>>\ Imre takes out a pair of gloves from his coat pocket and slides them over to you. His eyes are on the papers but he's smiling. You gratefully take the gloves, instant relief on your fingers. The quality is undeniable and although you still shiver it lowers its intensity. <<elseif $homel>>\ Lorcan glances at you and you glance back. He's face is in pain from the cold so you can't tell what he wants. Then, he scoots closer to you. His leg and arm initially brush yours but then press against them. It causes you to feel his convulsions but somehow you don't shiver as much. <</if>>\ [[NEXT->Page 382]] </h3>

<h3>Before Imre begins Lorcan interjects, “are we really g-going to read the same crap every t-time? We got nothin.'“ <<audio "wind" loop play>> Imre lifts up a finger and Lorcan narrows his eyes. “Just wait before you start whining.” “You'll be the one whining here when I give you something to whine about dick,” Lorcan retorts. Imre smirks. “Are you trying to proposition me? I've said yes to men before, but you're too... humble for my tastes.” Lorcan shivers as another gust of wind hits the bench. “Y-you're a guy,” he responds drily. <<if $pronouns is 'he' && $homel>>\ “And? He's a guy,” Imre looks at you, “I don't see you complaining about spending so much time alone with him.” You suddenly find that your hands are very interesting to look at. You can feel the annoyance come off Lorcan like waves. “J-just cause two guys walk home doesn't mean shit.” “In essence,” Imre says, the smile in his words is palpable. <<else>>\ “Astounding observational skills, you should be a detective,” Imre snarks. Lorcan grumbles some nasty words under his breath and Imre hums, returning to his notes. <</if>>\ Imre flips randomly throughout his notebook, he finally finds what he's looking for and points to the name inked in and circled. ''NIA''. [[NEXT|Page 383]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan groans. “Ugh, her again? She's literally told us to fuck off in every way you can in English. She'll just do it again.” “I know Nia,” Imre glances at you, “and you know Nia. We gave her a few days but she's proud. She won't come to us but she will be more recipient to us if we go to her.” You roll your lips. This is classic Nia. She's not the type to beg. Whenever she wanted something she would just sit and wait, she had extraordinary patience for that. “But what if she still says no?” you ask. “She won't,” Imre affirms. “And who the fuck do you know know that?” Lorcan asks. Imre looks at you and you sigh. “Because it's her mom.” Imre nods and holds out his hand. “Did you bring it?” You open your $holder and take out the old grainy picture you found in the attic. Imre blows on it, sending the dust in the cool air. “We show her this and it's ace in the hole,” Imre says. “Another one of your targets Imre?” Lorcan asks bitterly. Imre ignores him and asks you, “so which one of us should go? She's at the hospital.” “I'll go,” Lorcan snorts. Imre raises an eyebrow at you. <hr>\ * [[Volunteer.|Page 384]] * [[Let Imre have at it.|Page 384*]] </h3>

<h3>You shrug, “maybe I can get her riled up enough to talk to me.” “Yes, that is a habit she has with you,” Imre agrees. You start getting up but he raises a hand to stop you, “you need a good reason to be there.” “Uh, I'll just say I have a stomachache or something,” you reply. Imre looks at you like you said something ridiculous. “That will get you in and out in a few minutes with a prescription, you need to buy yourself enough time to convince her.” “And how do I do that?” “We'll have to break one of your fingers,” Imre says without missing a beat. You scoff, thinking it's a joke. But Imre just stares at you, a neutral look in his face. Lorcan looks lost as he alternates glances between you and Imre. “That's literally crazy and unnecessary,” you state. Imre lets out a sigh, “you were there before. Some staff must've seen you, then you randomly disappeared. They'll remember you because you're you and will likely keep a firm eye on you. You need to be left alone with Nia.” “Did ya see Mrs. Winterop?” Lorcan asks, picking at his cuticle bed. “Yeah?” “That lady has been sitting in that chair since before we were born. Tried to sneak in there one Halloween from the back doors and I wanted to go to the basement, followed the signs and everything and I ended up at front desk,” he explains. “How do I even know she'll show up? She wants to be a neurosurgeon not a bone doctor,” you say. “Orthopedist,” Imre corrects. “Nia is into anything having to do with the human body. She's allowed to shadow anyone. Add to that fact that she won't resist coming to see you I'd say it's a small sacrifice in service of the greater good.” You stare dumbfounded. You've never broken a bone in your life. Imagine how much that will hurt. You thrum your fingers inside the pockets of your coat. <hr>\ * [[“Ok.”|Page 385][$tribute to true]] * [[“Screw this, you go.”|Page 384*]] </h3>

<h3>“Alright, if I don't come out in thirty minutes, presume she has likely killed me,” Imre jests. “Imma wish it,” Lorcan snarks. Imre rolls his eyes and methodically orders his papers inside his briefcase. “What do we do while you're gone?” you ask. “I haven't a clue,” he says and thinks for a second before saying, “perhaps try to think of a way we can break into Nia's house if I fail.” “You're joking right?” you say. “I gotta warm up my breaking and entering again,” Lorcan says at the same time. Imre gives you an enigmatic smile, slinging his briefcase over his shoulder. Your eyes follow him as he crosses the street and you look away when he pushes into the building. You look at the table and see his small notebook flipping its pages in the wind. Lorcan reaches for it and starts reading it. [[NEXT->Page 385*]] </h3>

<h3>“Huh?” Gertrude takes a sip of her tea and then stands up. She begins pacing, her hands wring together. “I had met him before I met my late husband. I was a girl back then, //naive//,” she emphasizes and steals a glance at you. “I didn't reject his attention because everyone told me I should be flattered a boy so handsome was interested in me and that he was harmless.” You grab another cookie. “Well then Walter came into my life. And it was love at first sight,” her voice becomes wistful, but then her expression quickly sours, “until Lincoln got jealous. He picked a fight with Walter and by a miracle my husband won. Lincoln was gravely injured but before he died he told me he would not stop loving me even in death.” You swallow and make to grab and another cookie but find the plate empty. You wipe your hands on your pants, “ok. Sooooo that's how he accosts you in your dreams. How often does it happen?” Gertrude grips the cross she has dangling from her neck. “It used to be once in a blue moon. That's why I first thought it was just a nightmare but after Walter... it became more frequent. I'm scared to close my eyes.” The look in Gertrude's eyes is of pure panic. Some men just can't take a hint. “And what can I do about that? I've never dealt with dream invaders before,” you admit. Gertrude sits back down and leans closer to you, spilling her tea on the table, coating the knitted coasters. “There's a man, he only appears for those who realize they're sleeping.” You don't like where this is going. “People can make wagers with him. If they win he gives them what they want.” “And what if someone loses?” Gertrude looks down at that. “I don't know child. But I feel from what I heard about you that if anyone can do this it's you! You can ask the man to bring Lincoln out of my dreams and into the waking world.” Your eyebrows raise, “why do you want that?” Gertrude's homely little grandma routine disappears so quickly you'd think it was a mask. “I want to kill him.” [[NEXT|Page SQ6-14]] </h3>

<h3>That very night you're sitting cross-legged on your bed. Your hands are laying on your thighs. You do some breathing exercises. You checked out a book on lucid dreaming. Most of the advice was redundant. Of course you have to make sure you realize you're dreaming? How else would you be lucid? You took a vitamin B6 tablet and then you decided to use the method of clocks. It's said that analog clocks are all messed up in dreams and that's how you can tell you're dreaming. You take a melatonin tablet and go under the covers. You turn off the lamp and shut your eyes. You know how hard it is for you to fall asleep so you toss and turn for hours until you feel your eyes begin to droop. The moment they close you shoot up in bed and look around you. You're room is in complete darkness, the moonlight is splashed over the wall, the branches of your tree swing in the breeze. You turn on the lamp and bring the small little clock on your nightstand. You're... <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-15'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-15'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-15'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-15'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Dead-end'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Dead-end'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>Asleep. The face of the clock is blurry. You move it slightly to the side and you can make out the numbers but when you turn it to face you it becomes blurry again. You throw off the covers and slip on your shoes. You take your coat and leave your room. The house is the same but isn't. There are people — best description would be beings — who slide along the walls, flickering in and out of existence. Some of them you know. The stairs are tricky. The steps wobble and the banister is there one minute and gone the next. You finally manage to escape the manor. Walking through the dirt path, surrounded by trees gives enough for nightmare fuel. But unlike all those other times when you sensed something staring at you, this time you know for certain that there's nothing there. The town itself is much the same. Certain buildings have disappeared and in their places are just... blue teddy bears. Their glass eyes follow you. When you do reach Gertrude's house it's painted hot pink and there's snakes with little bows on their heads slithering around the lawn but they pay you no mind. The door is ajar so you go in. The stairs to the upper floor is as difficult as the stairs in your house and you almost fall backwards. What happens if you die in a dream? You push open Gertrude's bedroom door and the room is as you imagined it would be when you visited. It's floral. But floral to its extreme. The little flowers on the walls dance. And there's a man sitting on her bed caressing her. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-16]] </h3>

<h3>The clock face looks normal. It's 3:07 AM. You set the clock down and rub your face. You turn off the lamp and shut your eyes. You don't fall asleep. You turn this way and that for the rest of the night and when you see the cloud-covered sky make its way across your vision you sigh and get up. You try to lucid dream for many nights after that but you never quite achieve it. Gertrude's children eventually send her to a senior's home. You never find out if the dreams have stopped. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>The light from the hallway only provide scarce views of his face. He has thin black hair and seems to be wearing a suit. He looks over at you, his face passive. Neither of you two say anything. He goes back to gently caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you Lincoln?” you ask, your mouth feels weird when it talks and your voice sounds like it's coming from a long distance. He doesn't answer. It seems like he didn't hear you. “Excuse me, sir? Are you Lincoln?” you ask with more gusto. “She looks so beautiful when she sleeps,” the man says. “She doesn't want you here,” you say. “Even with wrinkles I still see her as young as the day she held me in her arms on that cold night,” he continues in a nostalgic voice. “All you're doing is tormenting her. Take a hint. You're dead, she's not,” you insist. “I was held by the love of my life as I died. Not many can say the same. I'm here to return the favour whenever her old heart gives.” You let out an annoyed sigh. You don't know what to do. You're standing in the doorway like an idiot. You hear something hit the window. Lincoln continues his act of 'romance' while you cross the room to see. You move aside the curtains and see... A //thing//. That's the best way you can describe it. It has the outline of a person but they also aren't there. It's like they're turn invisible while you can also see them. They throw a pebble at the window. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-17]] </h3>

<h3>You look at Lincoln who's hasn't seemed to notice. Sensing that you won't be able to make him see reason you decide to go talk to the thing outside. You'd think it would look more corporal when you're a few feet away from it but it actually looks even more confusing. You can't tell where it's face is. If it even has one. You stay by the door and the thing drops the pebble it has. You two stand there staring at one another a good minute. You wonder what time it is. Time in dreams work strangely and it could be nearing the time when you wake up. “Who are you?” you ask, your voice still having that strange quality to it. It doesn't have eyes. But you know it's looking at you. //I am the one who kisses the eyelids of those that wish to visit my realm.// You start and press your temple. You don't know if what you heard is real. The voice was genderless and so subtle it sounded like your own thoughts. You take a step closer, it doesn't move. Sometimes its outline appears as an electric current. “The one who kisses eyelids,” you murmur, “you're the sandman aren't you? The father of sleep?” //I do not like the names humans have given me. I am me. You are seeking an audience with me, are you not?// once again its voice speaks in your mind like a whisper. “Yes,” you take another step closer, “I need you to help me with the man upstairs.” You don't know how you're able to see it but you know it tilts its head up to look at the window of Gertrude's room. //I do not do these things for free, sleeper. You must be willing to risk something of value to you to gain a wish from me.// “What do you want from me?” You feel a sharp pain in your palm and look down to open your fist. In your palm is a clean pearly tooth. What? //You will flip that tooth. If it lands upright then you shall be my assistant for all time. If it flips upside down then I will do as you ask.// A tooth can land upright in sleep? Of course it can. “So I'll die if I lose?” //Yes. You will never wake. Your body will decay and there will be no after life for you.// <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Death Scene 3'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Death Scene 3'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Death Scene 3'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Death Scene 3'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-18'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-18'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>You throw it up and as it flies in the air it seems to slow down. It's not a moment of slow-motion due to anxiety. It literally takes its time when its in the air and slowly falls back down into your hand. You take in a deep breath and look at the person. It holds out its hand to you. It was upright. You drop the tooth and without much thought take its hand. It feels like air. Your mind does something strange here. There is no panic. There is no sorrow. Nor happiness. You accept your fate as you'e guided away from Ge— whoever's house that was. Everything feels so slow now. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ <<if $tname>>$tname Crown: 1975-1994.<<else>>$name Crown: 1975-1994.<</if>> //“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at Episode 6.->Episode 6 Sponsor]] </h3>

<h3>You throw it up and as it flies in the air it seems to slow down. It's not a moment of slow-motion due to anxiety. It literally takes its time when its in the air and slowly falls back down into your hand. You take in a deep breath and look at the person. It holds out its hand to you. It's perfectly upside down in your palm. You look at them, they don't seem fazed. Although with their lack of face how could you know? //You may receive one favour from me. After I comply you must never seek me out again for another. Understood?// “Yes,” you say. They tilt their head up at the window. //I presume it has to do with that persistant visitor Mrs. Rodgers has had in her bedroom?// “You've know this whole time?” //Of course I have. There is nothing that doesn't occur in my domain without my knowledge. On that matter, what it is you want me to do with him?// You recall what Gertrude said. She wants to kill him. God knows how the logistics to that works but it was the wish of the client. Do you feel any moral qualms about it? You could ask for something else... <hr>\ * [[Ask them to pull Lincoln into the real world.|Page SQ6-19][$kysl to true]] * [[Ask them to just dispel Lincoln from Gertrude's dreams.|Page SQ6-19]] </h3>

<h3><<if $kysl>>\ “I need him to be pulled out from Gertrude's dream into the waking world,” you state. If the deity of sleep has any issues with violating what should probably against sleeping laws they don't show it. //Very well.// You blink, the first time you think you've done it since you've been here. And you aren't prepared for the 'dispelling' that brings. That's the best way you can describe it. It's like a big fans is turned on and all the hazy dream quality disperses into the air. You stumble as the word rights itself. Holding onto one of the columns of the small porch you look at the manicured little lawn where they stand. Or stood. They aren't there anymore. You look at your watch. The numbers seem perfectly fine. “GET AWAY FROM ME!“ a scream cuts into the night air. You jerk your head to the upper window and hear a bang. You waste no time in dashing into the house and skipping steps up the stairs. You push Gertrude's door open and you see her pointing a gun at Lincoln. When she sees you at the door she instinctly points the knife to you. You hold up your hands, “it's me!“ The knife shakes. Getrude looks nervously from to Lincoln who's looking at his hands as if he can't believe it. “I got him out for you,” you say. Gertrude lets out a gasp and she lifts the knife even higher which in any other context would look comical since she's your typical old grandma. Lincoln lets his hands drop and he looks at Getrude. A blissful smile appears on his face, “my love. I'm here with you. You can finally see me how I've seen you all these years.” He takes a step closer. Gertrude takes a step back. “Get away from me you looney!“ “You had this child find a way for us to be together, didn't you? I knew it. I knew in spite of your protests and rejection that deep down you felt for me what I feel for you, my love.” He says this in a sing-songy voice. Gertrude backs up against the night table as Lincoln takes slow steps towards her. “I don't want to be with you! Why can't you see that?!“ she screams. Lincoln shakes his head softly. “This must be shock for you. That's why you're acting this way. I know women are fragile, they get into hysterics when faced with emotional situations. But my love, we can be happy now! You're without a husband you need—“ And that's when she lunges at him. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-20]] <<else>>\ “I need him to be gone from her dreams. Make sure he never comes back,” you state. If the deity of sleep has any issues with violating what should probably against sleeping laws they don't show it. //Very well.// You blink, the first time you think you've done it since you've been here. And you aren't prepared for the 'dispelling' that brings. That's the best way you can describe it. It's like a big fans is turned on and all the hazy dream quality disperses into the air. You stumble as the word rights itself. Holding onto one of the columns of the small porch you look at the manicured little lawn where they stand. Or stood. They aren't there anymore. You look at your watch. The numbers seem perfectly fine. You step onto the grass and get a better look at the window. Squinting doesn't help when the curtains are almost completelt drawn. All you can do now is go home and hope it worked. Walking home in the real world during the dead of night when there's a killer on the loose is not the most fun experience of your life. Several times you get that prickly sensation you're being watched but when you look around you see nothing. You make it home in one piece. Tiptoe up the stairs and collapse on your bed. [[NEXT->Page SQ6-22]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>It's an awkward launch because she's such a sweet old short lady. Lincoln seems to think she's harmless because he opens his arms and wraps them around her the moment she collides with him. His arms pin hers to his side and he squeezes. “I know you're a bit upset—“ “LET GO OF ME YOU MONSTER!“ “BUT I believe that with my love I will make you see that I've been right all—“ “I WOULD RATHER EAT A WEEK OLD CAKE LEFT OUT IN THE SUN!“ she erupts. Lincoln sneers and grabs her arms, jerking her just far enough to look her in the eyes. “You've always been a disagreeable little bitch. Even when we were kids. That's when you went off to go choose that fool Walter. Be it'll set you right.” The way he says that chills you and Gertrude's face stills, she stops trying to fight him away. You should do something. <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/49/number-2934038_1280.png" width= "20%"> <img src= "https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/11/09/16/50/number-2934045_1280.png" width= "20%"> <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Death Scene 4'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Death Scene 4'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Death Scene 4'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-21'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-21'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Page SQ6-21'>> <</if>> <</button>> </h3>

<h3>When you wake up on top of the sheets of your bed you immediately go to the telephone downstairs. You dial Gertrude's number and tap your foot as the phone rings. She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello, this is Gertrude Rodgers speaking?” “Hey, Gertrude I wanted to see how you were,” you say. “Oh hello dear! I'm glad you called. I'm perfectly fine. How are you?” You find the question odd. “Uh, fine? Is everything ok at home? You sleep well?” “Just perfect, dear. Thank you for helping me,” she replies in a cheery voice. She doesn't seem to understand what you're getting at. Or not want to get it. “Ok...” “Pesky things telephones aren't they? I always think someone is listening in on them. I watch too many Soviet Russia movies,” she says. Your eyebrows furrow. Who's listening? It can't be Lincoln. “Hopefully I'll see you around town a bit more dear. You should get out and come for tea sometime,” she offers. “Yeah thanks,” you say absentmindedly. You don't want to be on the phone anymore. She hangs up first. You slowly set the handset down. It's loud click against the switch hook resonantes around the room. When she hung up you didn't hear a dial tone. [[NEXT->Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>You don't think before throwing yourself upon Lincoln's back and trying to get him in a chokehold. It's much harder than it looks or you're just not that strong. Lincoln grunts and tries to pry your arms from around his neck. Gertrude in the meantime looks at the scene. Her eyes petrified. Lincoln elbows you in the stomach and your weak hold on him slacks as you wheeze. Lincoln throws your arms off of him and whips around to you. You're nearly crouching, a hand around your throbbing stomach. You look up at his tall figure. His face looks cruel. As if he were looking at some annoying fly. “I have always hated children. Middlesome brats who don't know their place.<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Women always forget themselves. I guess I'll have to discipline two girls tonight,” he claims.<<else>>“Lesser people always forget their place. But I have a good disciplinary hand for that,” he claims.<</if>> He lifts his hand and flinch as he aims to strike you. But before he can he jerks back, a strangled gasp forming his mouth into a big 'O.' His hands jerk, trying to move back. He stumbles around to face Gertrude who has an enraged look in her eyes. The light from the hallway glints off the blade stuck in his back. He tries in vain to reach it but he collapses onto the dresser. His eyes sprout tears as he slides down onto the floor, a trail of blood is left on the drawer handles. His wide eyes slowly look up to Gertrude who stands over him. Clutching your stomach you stand up straight and take a step towards Lincoln's body. Lincoln's chest rises and falls slowly. Gertrude's hands shake from the force of her rage. “Gertrude—“ <<if $tname>>“You need to leave, $tname.”<<else>>“You need to leave, $name.”<</if>> Her voice is calm. The gray clouds before they begin their rumbling. “But what about—“ “Leave him to me.” She smiles sweetly at him.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> [[NEXT->Page SQ6-22]] </h3>

<h3>You don't think before throwing yourself upon Lincoln's back and trying to get him in a chokehold. It's much harder than it looks or you're just not that strong. Lincoln grunts and tries to pry your arms from around his neck. Gertrude in the meantime looks at the scene. Her eyes petrified. Lincoln elbows you in the stomach and your weak hold on him slacks as you wheeze. Lincoln throws your arms off of him and whips around to you. You're nearly crouching, a hand around your throbbing stomach. You look up at his tall figure. His face looks cruel. As if he were looking at some annoying fly. “I have always hated children. Middlesome brats who don't know their place.<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“Women always forget themselves. I guess I'll have to discipline two girls tonight,” he claims.<<else>>“Lesser people always forget their place. But I have a good disciplinary hand for that,” he claims.<</if>> He lifts his hand and flinch as he strikes you across the face. Your head snaps to the side and you fall down. Gertrude screams but he turns around before she can plunge the knife into his back. They wrestle, falling onto the bed. You can't see what he's doing from fallen position on the floor. Your head is spinning and your cheek throbs something bad. You blink back the black dots that are overwhelming your vision. You prop yourself on your elbow and try to get a better look. Your blood runs cold as Lincoln straddles Gertrude. You get up too quickly and you gasp as your stomach protests. You walk over blindly to the bed and once again try to throw your arms around his neck. But Lincoln sees you coming and before you can even touch him he lets go of Gertrude's neck and slaps you hard. This time the force of his meaty hand jerks you to the right and your head knocks off the edge of the coffee table. You instantly lose conciouseness. __''YOU HAVE DIED''__ <<if $tname>>$tname Crown: 1975-1994.<<else>>$name Crown: 1975-1994.<</if>> //“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”// [[Click here if you want to restart at Prologue.->RECAP or Sea Bird's Last Flight]] [[Click here if you want to restart at Episode 6.->Episode 6 Sponsor]] </h3>

<h3>You lay your hand on the cold rotting table with its carved words and warping wood. Imre leans forward, his eyes showing a lazy interest. Lorcan cracks his knuckles and makes a show of positing himself here or there to get a better vantage point. He finally chooses to just stand next to you and grabs your ring finger. “Isn't this like the heart finger?” “What?” you ask. “The finger that goes to the heart,” he says annoyed. “That's a myth,” Imre says. “Shit I was going to make a joke,” Lorcan grumbles. “Let me guess... something about me not having a heart?” Lorcan looks dejected as he lifts your finger and with one his and uses another finger to put pressure on the lower part of your finger. “Ready?” he asks. Before you can say you are he snaps your finger. You begin to scream and bite your tongue hard to stop yourself. You snatch your throbbing finger back and cradle it to your chest. “Fuck!“ you yell and step away from the bench, gritting your teeth and nearly doubling over. You let out strangled gasps in between your cursing which begin to just sound like unintelligble words. For someone who thought they knew how to withstand pain you don't even have a moment to be surprised at how much this hurts. “Hey, are you ok?” Lorcan asks. You look over your shoulder and he looks concerned. Different to Imre who looks like he's observing a caged animal lashing out. “F-fine!“ you manage to blurt out. “Give me a-a second.” You groan as a wave of sharp throbs pound blood to your finger. [[NEXT->Page 387]] </h3>

<h3>“Should you be reading that?” you ask. “Why do you care?” Lorcan asks with a edge to his voice, “it's not like it's his diary. We're all in this together right? Who says we can't read stuff about the investigation, that lying prick?” He might have a point. The notebook is for the investigation from what you've seen and this is supposed to be an equal three-way partnership. But Imre has never shown you what he writes in it. Maybe you're crossing a line. Lorcan eyes widen and he leans forward, “here's you. Do you want to know what he said?” “He wrote about me?” Lorcan nods and points to a spot in the notebook. He has it turned away from you. <hr>\ * [[Yes.|Page 386*][$snoop to true]] * [[No.|Page 386*]] </h3>

<h3>You breathe in and out deeply. Eventually you walk back to the bench and hold out your mangled finger for the three of you to see. “Perfectly adequate,” Imre observes. “You a goddamn freak Duran,” Lorcan says appalled. The top of your finger is bent up as if you were pressing the tips of your fingers agains the edge of a table but with more exaggeration. It's already swelling, you turn it over and see hints of purple climbing up your skin. “If this doesn't work I'm breaking both of your fingers,” you say to the boys and starts walking to the hospital, your finger held to your chest and your overhand trying to shield it from the wind. [[NEXT->Page 388]] </h3>

<h3>When you go up to the front desk you see the same woman you saw the last you were here. Mrs. Winterop. Her nails are click-clacking on a type-writer and she doesn't look up when you lean on the counter. <<audio "wind" stop>> With every tap of the keys she chews her gum loudly. Her long orange nails contrast oddly with the tie-dye purple shirt she's wearing. You clear your throat once. She chews and taps, hitting the middle bar to get the type-writer to chime and begin the next line. “Hello?” you say and ask. “What are you in for?” she asks without looking up. “I broke my finger,” you respond. At that it aches painfully. Mrs. Winterop looks solely with her eyes, the fringer of her covers nearly covers them. “You were here before, asking about that girl weren't you?” “I was,” you admit. “Now I'm here because my finger is broken,” you reitrate. “Let me see,” she commands. You obey and lay your finger as gently as you can on the counter. It looks awful in the jaundice hospital lights. Mrs. Winterop narrows her eyes and takes a close look. She hums and looks back at you, her expression suspicious. “I don't want any funny business from you or you'll be banned from the hospital,” she threatens. How can someone be banned for a hospital? You nod and promise, “I'll do whatever the doctor tells me.” She doesn't look away from you as she pages someone. [[NEXT|Page 389]] </h3>

<h3><<if $snoop>>\ You fold your arms on the table and lean on them. “Ok.” “He has your name here and it's underlined and shit,” Lorcan says. “Ok, what does he say?” you insist. “He says you're not what he expected yadda yadda yadda something about triggers for your 'fits of rage' and....,” Lorcan trails off. “And?” you urge. Lorcan glances at you and the look on your face makes him grin. “He basically asks if you feel bad when you hurt people? Does it make you feel powerful? Then he has 'GUILT' in capital letters and underlined like three times.” You look forward. “Huh.” “So what about it? Do ya?” You flex your jaw. “Do what? That's three questions.” “Fine. Do you feel guilt about hurting people?” <hr>\ * [[Yes.|Page 387*]] * [[No.|Page 387*]] * [[You don't know.|Page 387*][$guiltmaybes to true]] <<else>>\ You fold your arms on the table and lean on them. “No.” “Really? You're not curious at all?” Lorcan asks in disbelief. “We're not supposed to be reading that. Put it away,” you say. “I'm just saying it's kind of insane,” Lorcan baits. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “since when do you like gossip?” Lorcan makes a face and smacks you on the shoulder with the notebook. “I'm bored as shit.” “He literally just left,” you comment. “Yeah and I'm bored as shit what do you want me to say?” he throws the notebook on the table. This is going to be a long thirty minutes. [[NEXT->Page 388*]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $guiltmaybes>>\ You've never really stopped to think about it. Maybe that's a fault or maybe you don't want to. Does it matter? <<else>>\ It's something that belongs to you. Lorcan hates you enough to think the worst anyway. It doesn't really matter what you feel because it doesn't stop it from happening. <</if>> You huff and lay your head face down on your arms. “So?” “So... nothing, put that notebook back,” you say in a muffled voice. “Well you're fucking fun,” he sarcasms. “Didn't know I was here to entertain you,” you reply. You hear a thump on the table and gaze up slightly to see the notebook discarded on the table. This is going to be a long thirty minutes. [[NEXT->Page 388*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $truthnia>>\ “Ok. Fine. Sure. But my finger is really broken,” you concede. Nia looks down at your finger held against your chest. “I can see that. A bit dramatic and insane don't you think?” You shrug. “You're a hard woman to find.” “I'm not. I'm a hard woman to talk to,” she responds. “Equally shitty,” you say. “I can see why you would say that but since it benefits me I can't say I'm sorry about it,” she says sincerely. <<else>>\ “They do say life is strange,” you declare. Nia looks down at your finger held against your chest. “They usually believe in coincides,” she looks up at you, “I don't.” You scoff. “You could feel a bit bad for me you know.” “I never said I didn't,” she replies. “But you never said you did,” you retort. “If you need me to say stuff maybe you forgot who I am,” she says simply. Ouch. <</if>> Without warning she turns and walks into a random room. You follow and watch as she smoothes down the thin white material that's always on these examination beds which reminds you of paper. When she straightens up she gestures to the bed. “Lay down for me.” You walk to the bed and it's a bit hard to hoist yourself with only one hand but you maange after tearing the paper-like covering. Nia watches you the whole time and when you're laying down with your finger laying on your stomach she nods once and goes to the door. Oh shit, is she leaving? Your plan already failed because she can easily she through you. You broke your finger for nothing. You try to come up with a reason to keep her here. Maybe you could say you don't want to be alone? Maybe insult her bedside manner so she stays to prove you wrong? Pretend you're in more pain than you are? Immediately as these thoughts shoot through your mind at the speed of sound you counter them with their probability of failure. Nia is too stubborn and there's no reason— She stops before the door frame and unfolds her arms, letting them fall to her sides. She stands there for a few seconds and then without looking at you she walks over the seat beside the bed and sits down. [[NEXT->Page 391]] </h3>

<h3>You're made to wait in the plastic chairs on the lobby slash waiting room while Mrs. Winterop constantly peeks over the counter to keep an eye on you. You hear a patter of feet on the linoleum floor from somewhere down the hall. You lean your head on the wall and look at the small part of the hall you can see. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>You don't expect it when Nia herself walks into the lobby and stops by the front desk, her eyes on you while she asks Mrs. Winterop, “doctor Proctor asked me to walk her to the room.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>You don't expect it when Nia herself walks into the lobby and stops by the front desk, her eyes on you while she asks Mrs. Winterop, “doctor Proctor asked me to walk him to the room.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>You don't expect it when Nia herself walks into the lobby and stops by the front desk, her eyes on you while she asks Mrs. Winterop, “doctor Proctor asked me to walk them to the room.”<</if>> You try to school your surprise into a look of boredom as you stand up a bit too quicky. The chair screeches against the floor. Nia turns on her heel and starts walking down the hall. Mrs. Winterop starts typing and says, “well? What are you waiting for? Go.” You shake your head and quickly walk to catch up to her. When you're almost shoulder to shoulder Nia slows down and you do too. “I could file a restraining order against you for stalking,” she points out. You look at her and her face is calm. She doesn't say it as a threat. It's more like a suggestion. “I broke my finger,” you insist. “Isn't it weird that you have never broken anything in your life and all of a sudden after a don't want to be part of your teen detective squad you show up here with a non-serious injury?” she postulates. <hr>\ * [[Tell the truth.|Page 390][$truthnia to true]] * [[Feign innocence.|Page 390]] </h3>

<h3>“You're staying with me?” “If I don't you'll just find another way to stalk me. You're capable of showing up at my house with a missing leg,” she says. You peer at her and she locks eyes with you. She sounds serious. At least she's going to stay. “Are they going to rebreak my finger?” you ask. “I don't know,” she admits. “Yeah right, you're into brains not bones,” you say. “That's one way to put it,” she says with a hint of a smile. “Maybe you could see what's wrong with my brain,” you suggest. Nia shakes her head. “For that I would probably tell you to go to a therapist. Or a psychiatrist. I don't know the different to be honest.” “Aren't neurosurgeons supposed to fix brains?” She looks at you. “And how do you think I could fix your brain?” <hr>\ * [[♡ “Lobotomy.”|Page 392][$lobotomy to true]] * [[♥️ “Don't know but you'd be able to do it.”|Page 392][$encourage to true]] * [[⟡ “Brain transplant.”|Page 392*][$braintrans to true]] * [[“You're right. You can't.”|Page 392*][$brainah to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $lobotomy>>\ Your voice is flippant but Nia hardly looks amused. “That's not funny.” “Well it was fucking funny to me and that's what matters,” you counter. “Given how much you hate yourself you can't blame me for thinking you're serious,” she says. <<set $NiaRF += 1>> You prop yourself up on your elbow and tilt your body to face her. “Why don't you shut the fuck up?” Nia's eyes slide away from you and she looks down at her volunteer uniform. A candy-striped dress that seems to be a bit small on her. Her breast strain against the buttons. You huff and lay back down on the bed. “So you can dish it but not handle it?” she asks with an amused tone. “We're not here to talk about me,” you say staring up at the ceiling. “No, apparently we're talking about me. Am I your favourite subject? I guess some things haven't changed, Birdie.” You know she's looking at you with those deep brown eyes that see everything. You feel the need to cover yourself up even though you're layered in clothing. <<else>>\ Nia searches your face. “Are you trying to be nice to me?” You scrunch your eyebrows together, “um, obviously?” Nia looks away, staring at a point on the other side of the room. “I could say something really mean right now, I'm debating.”<<set $NiaRA += 1>> You sit up and try to force her to look at you be the sheer power of your own staring, “please say something nice to me.” Nia's eyes slide down to her volunteer uniform. A candy-striped dress that seems to be a bit small on her. Her breast strain against the buttons. You wait a few moments. Expectation written all over your face but she picks at non-existent flaws on her dress. You ignore a different pang than the one from your finger within you and lay back down. “You're just so stupidly unbelievable,” she says with hints of venom in her voice. “Why?” you ask softly. “If it were me I would treat the person who left me at the lowest with a rock ready to throw in my hand, not an outstretched hand,” she replies curtly. You roll your lips. <</if>> “What about you?” she asks. “What about me?” you ask. “It's senior year. Haven't you thought about what you're going to do after graduation?” <hr>\ * [[a musician?|Page 393]] * [[a lawyer?|Page 393]] * [[a writer?|Page 393]] * [[a doctor?|Page 393]] * [[a teacher?|Page 393]] </h3>

<h3><<if $braintrans>>\ Her face is blank as you smile at your attempt at a joke. “Since when did you become so funny?” “You think I'm funny?” you ask, you ignore how hopeful you sound. “Sorry, misspoke. I mean, since when do you think you're so funny?” she asks, a glint of amusement in her eyes. You sit up and state, “nuh uh, you can't take that back you said it so now I'm officially the comedian of our friendship.” Nia tilts her head to the side, “what are you, five?”<<set $NiaP += 2>> “If that means you're four than yes!“ “If that means you're four than yes,” she mimics. “I don't sound like that,” you say defensively. “I don't sound like that,” she says with a nasally voice. You growl and plop back down on the bed. “Very mature Nia.” “Now you're mad at me because I'm doing what you said? Last I heard four year olds were annoying. I'm getting into character,” she claims. “Har, har, har,” you sarcasm. She laughs. <<else>>\ “Is that because I'm going to be a bad surgeon or because you're brain is so fucked no one on God's green Earth could help you?” she asks. “Since we're not on god terms I'll let you figure that one out,” you say and cross your arms, making sure your broken finger is laying on top. “Well since I know I'm going to be a great surgeon, that only leaves...” she trails off but you know she's probably smirking. <</if>> “What about you?” she asks. “What about me?” you ask. “It's senior year. Haven't you thought about what you're going to do after graduation?” <hr>\ * [[a musician?|Page 393]] * [[a lawyer?|Page 393]] * [[a writer?|Page 393]] * [[a doctor?|Page 393]] * [[a teacher?|Page 393]] </h3>

<h3>“Are you asking me?” You shake your head. “Nevermind.” You haven't thought of a career in your whole life. You don't even know what you're good at. If anything. But Nia doesn't need to know that. She'd probably look down at you, she has it all planned out and she'll likely get it. In fifteen years she'll be a successful neurosurgeon and you'll still be at home disappearing into the walls. “Do you remember when we said we were going to be rock stars and spies?” Nia interrupts your thoughts. You turn to her. “What?” Nia smiles. “I wanted to be a rock star and you wanted to be a spy so we made a deal to be both.” You try to go back into your memory, the problem is that you have an overabundance of memories of Nia and this one doesn't ring a bell. You two went through a lot of phases. Nia must see your confusion on your face and she starts humming a tune that sounds familiar. You listen as she starts saying the lyrics. “//These boots were made for kickin' and that's just what they'll do, one of these days these boots are gonna rock all over you.//“ “What are you doing?” you ask. “//You keep square-ing when you oughta be groovin', and you keep snitchin' when you oughta not talk,”// Nia continues. Your eyes light up and without thought to where the words came from you reply, “//you keep standin' when you oughta be a'dancin'.” Nia's smile widens. Sensing what's coming you can't help yourself and both of you almost sing in unison, “//now what's cool is cool but you ain't been cool yet!“ You snort at the memory of you and Nia dancing around her room, trying on oversized fancy adult clothes as you practiced your best spy poses with water guns. Nia laughs, a light laugh that feels like the sun coming in through swaying leaves in the summer. “We were going to sing that in the talent show,” you recall in between laughs. Nia covers her face. “Oh god, we thought we sounded so good.” “Didn't I say that you sounded like Tina Turner?” you ask. Nia uncovers her face and nods, “and that's why I dressed up as her for Halloween that year, remember?” You grin, shaking your head up at the ceiling. “We were insane,” you say. “That's why we were friends because who else could handle all of that?” she jokes. <<if $brainah>>\ You both look at each other at the same time. She looks younger like this. Like you remember. For a second you want to believe it. But she did too much to you. Anf you don't care to rebuild it. [[NEXT->Page 394]] <<else>>\ You both look at each other at the same time. She looks younger like this. Like you remember. She exists, still. You want to believe it so badly, don't you? That it all can be fixed, one of you just have to step forward. Your smile is so wide it hurts and you think to yourself something you hadn't wanted to let yourself. “Nia?” “Yeah, Birdie?” [[NEXT->Page 394]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $brainah>>\ A doctor walks into the room holding a clipboard. <<else>>\ You don't know what you're going to say but right as it's a the tip of your tongue a doctor walks in, holding a clipboard. <</if>>\ When Nia sees her she backs away, and you look down at your hands as if you had been doing something wrong. The doctor lays her clipboard on the table and smiles in that vacant doctor way.<<if $tname>>“Good morning, $name. What seems to be the problem today?” She doesn't mean to call you that but you cringe at that name.<<else>>“Good morning, $name. What seems to be the problem today?”<</if>> “I think I broke my finger,” you reply. <<if $leftie>>“You think? Let me see,” she says and without waiting for you she takes your left hand and brings it up to her face.<<else>>“You think? Let me see,” she says and without waiting for you she takes your right hand and brings it up to her face.<</if>> You tense up thinking she'll touch it. “Calm down,” Nia whispers by your ear. The doctor glances at Nia and offers you a pitying smile. She lets go of your hand, “looks like your proximal phalanx might be broken but I want to see an X-ray of that to be sure.” She directs the last part of her sentence to Nia who nods once. The doctor gives you a quick and insignificant smile before leaving the room. Nia gets up and offers you her hand. You look at it and up at her. “I'm taking you. Unless you want to stay here in pain which is your problem.” <hr>\ * [[Take her hand.|Page 395][$handy to true]] * [[Get up yourself.|Page 395]] </h3>

<h3>You bite your upper lip. “And who will do the breaking?” “Lorcan,” Imre answers immediately. <<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “The fuck? Why me?” “You have that brute strength that I lack.” Lorcan relaxes, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Fuck yeah I do.” Knowing you'll regret it you slip out your non-writing hand... <hr>\ * [[Left-hand|Page 386][$leftie to true]] * [[Right-hand|Page 386]] </h3>

<h3>You alternate between shivering and laying your head down. Lorcan shifts a lot. He gets up and walks around. Sits back down and raps his knuckles on things. Sighs. Grumbles. Gets back up. You don't feel much like talking in this weather and your lack of sleep makes days lethargic. “Shit!“ Lorcan yells and you look over to see him sprawled on the ground. He grabs a small rock by his foot and chucks it angerly. You're about to make a comment when something over his head and a bit far away catches your eye. You blink severly times to see if you see what you're seeing. “Is that my family's car?” you think out loud. Lorcan looks at you then follows your gaze to a car parked next to town hall. Almost peeking out from the corner, if cars could peek. “Looks like it,” he affirms. What would Arthur being doing here? Lorcan gives you a look you can't comprehend but his pale complexion gets colder, lifeless. He gets up and sits back down. Neither of you say anything but every once in a while one of you looks over to see if the car is still there. [[NEXT->Page 406]] </h3>

<h3><<if $handy>>\ You take it, marvelling at how soft her hand is. She helps you up and then slides her hand up your arm to rest of your shoulder, urging you to walk ahead of her. <<else>>\ You ignore her and grunt as you use your other hand to sit up and jump off the very tall bed. Nia waits for you to stand then gestures for you to walk ahead of her. <</if>>\ She says, “left,” when you reach the end of the hall. She's close. Almost shoulder to shoulder to you but never aiming to catch up to you. It gives her free reign to stare at you and think her thoughts, the ones you aren't privy to and don't know whether they're in your favour or not. That's what's so different about Imre and Nia. With Imre there is always this idea that he's thinking about you but in a way that could fuck you over. There's a unability to ever fully trust him there. Nia, on the other hand, you can't get an inkling of what she thinks or what she'll do. Lorcan, he's an open book. She tells you to turn right. But she's examining you right now. Not like the doctor did. But it's not a good feeling when your finger hurts. You can only give your attention to one of these things and the finger is easier. “Do you do everything here?” you ask as she tells you to stop in front of the elevators. She presses the down button. “I'm good but I'm not Mrs. Winterop,” she replies. The elevator doors ding open. You both inside and she presses the button for a level a floor beneath you. “Sorry we're not taking the stairs. I know you really like them,” she comments. “And people used to say you don't have a sense of humor,” you counter. She scoffs. [[NEXT->Page 396]] </h3>

<h3>When you do get to the X-ray room the technician is a short woman with a rat-like face who scurries to get you into the protective gear. Nia waits for you outside the room, when you leave her she's running her nails along her gold lighter. “This won't hurt at all,” the technician says. Even her voice sounds as if a rat could talk. You wouldn't be surprised if she took off her hat and you see rat ears. The exam is short and soon enough Nia is following you back to your room. She has her hand in her pocket, holding the lighter. You had scratched your name into it, once. She got pissed at you but she kept it.<<if $tname>> //I would have to change it to my new name.//<<else>>It's hardly legible because you used a safety pin.<</if>> “You're staring,” she says. She's looking straight ahead. You do too. Every time you're alone with her this happens. You don't know what's more embarassing, that you don't notice you're doing it or that she does? “I don't everything here,” she says. “Huh?” She glances at you and repeats herself slowly. “Then why are you here so much?” She hums. “It's the only place I can be where I can just focus on something else. Other people. I can forgot who I am and just feel I'm a doctor.” You just look at her. She glances at you and looks away. It should like a sad admission but she says it so matter-of-a-fact that she could be telling you that she combed her hair. You walk back the rest of the way in silence. [[NEXT->Page 397]] </h3>

<h3>“I'm going to have to realign your finger and then apply a splint,” the doctor informs you as she points to the spot on your X-ray where the break is. Lorcan did a good job, it's a clean break at least. “By 'realign' you mean what?” you ask. “She's going to move it back to it's original position,” Nia answers. The doctor nods, “Nia's right. Bones are extraordinary things but they can't do their job if they do get a little help.” The doctor starts lowering the bed down with a lever. Nia scoots her chair closer. “Is it going to hurt?” you ask her. “Like a bitch,” she replies. That's the good thing about her. She looks at your finger. “If you want you to hold my hand or squeeze me for the pain you can.” The offer takes you back. Nia looks into your eyes and raises her eyebrow. //So?// <hr>\ * [[♥️ Hold her hand.|Page 398][$handytwo to true]] * [[♡ Squeeze her.|Page 398][$squeeze to true]] * [[⟡ Ask her to just sit beside you.|Page 398*][$sitnia to true]] * [[Reject her offer.|Page 398*][$naurversH to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $handytwo>>\ Your finger tips gently feel along her palm. The lines in her hand are so soft you can barely distinguish them. She watches your hand travel along her palm, exploring. Her fingers slightly move when you touch those spaces in between them. You hold her hand tightly. You can't know if it's because you're worried about the pain or because you're scared she'll change her mind so you can't give her that chance. She closes her hand, her long fingers press the veins of your hand. “So are we ready?” the doctor's voice interrupts. You almost want to cuss at her. Nia looks at the doctor and assents. The doctor looks between you two and although she has a //look// on her face she doesn't comment on whatever she sees between you two. The doctor takes your injured hand with her latex gloves and gently touches your finger. You bite your lip and augment the strength of your grip on Nia. But that gentle touch is nothing compared to what she does when she tries to move your finger back to what it looked like an hour ago. You bite your lip from screaming and Nia squeezes. “It's ok, Birdie. It's almost over,” she reassures you. Another flash of teeth-shattering pain courses up your arm and you dig your finger nails into Nia's hand. She flinches but she doesn't let go. Your face contorts into pathetic expressions, you can't even look at Nia because for some reason you can still feel embarassed even in immense pain. Nia covers her hand over your clutched hands. Within the cocoon your hand shakes from pain. <<else>>\ You push her hand aside and grab onto her forearm. You stare her down as your fingernails curve downward into her brown skin. She looks down at the pain you're threatening her with and she just covers your hand with hers. You want to have her hurt. You can't be the only one screaming. Maybe she'll finally break since emotionally pain hasn't opened her up to you. You feel a flash of annoyance, why do you care? //Because you're an idiot.// Her hand is gentle compared to yours. Her action is compassion, a volunteer helping out a patient and that pisses you off. How many others has she held like this? You imagine a stupid boy with a goofy look on his idiot face. He thinks he has a chance with her? As if! “So are we ready?” the doctor's voice interrupts. You almost snap your neck to throw her a glare. Nia looks at the doctor and assents. The doctor looks between you two and although she has a //look// on her face she doesn't comment on whatever she sees between you two. The doctor takes your injured hand with her latex gloves and gently touches your finger. You bite your lip and augment the strength of your hooks on Nia's skin. But that gentle touch is nothing compared to what she does when she tries to move your finger back to what it looked like an hour ago. You bite your lip from screaming and Nia rubs your hand. “Just hold on, it'll be over Birdie,” she reassures you. Another flash of teeth-shattering pain courses up your arm and you respond by digging your nails into her soft skin so hard you probably make her bleed. Nia makes a small noise but doesn't force your hand off of her. Your face contorts into pathetic expressions, you try to keep your face calm so Nia doesn't see how dumb you look. She keeps rubbing your hand soothingly. Past your wrist and until the crook of your elbow. She does this over and over as your hand shakes so bad from gripping her. <</if>> [[NEXT->Page 399]] </h3>

<h3><<if $sitnia>>\ “Can you just sit here? With me?” you ask. Nia doesn't respond but slides onto the bed and lays beside you, sitting up so she's looking over you. <<set $NiaP += 1>> Your shoulders touch and it somehow feels like comfort, another way for her to hold your hand. “If you thrash and kick me off this bed I'll give you another broken finger to go alone with that one,” she warns. You smile and nod. Nia says to the doctor, “ready to go.” “Cute,” the doctor says and takes your injured hand with her latex gloves and gently touches your finger. You bite your lip and tense your body. But that gentle touch is nothing compared to what she does when she tries to move your finger back to what it looked like an hour ago. You bite your lip from screaming and Nia leans her head lightly against yours. “You can do this Birdie. This can't be worse than that time you flew out of the slide and smacked your face on the concrete,” Nia whispers. You start laughing. “I lost a damn tooth- OW!“ Another flash of teeth-shattering pain courses up your arm. Nia moves her head back as you scream in her face. Your face contorts into pathetic expressions, you try to keep your face calm so Nia doesn't see how dumb you look. But she sees and you can tell she's trying not to laugh. “You're an ass,” you say in a laugh that almost sounds like a whine. “If it was me and I looked like a clown you would never let me live it down,” she retorts with a smile. “The day you get hurt so bad you start crying I'll take pictu—,” you yell when your finger is moved even further this time. <<else>>\ You shake your head. “I'll be fine.” She doesn't seem hurt by your rejection, she just leans back in her seat and says to the doctor, “you can start.” The doctor takes your injured hand with her latex gloves and gently touches your finger. You bite your lip and tense your body. But that gentle touch is nothing compared to what she does when she tries to move your finger back to what it looked like an hour ago. You bite your lip from screaming and Nia maintains her eyes on you, emotionless. Another flash of teeth-shattering pain courses up your arm. Your face contorts into pathetic expressions and it's still not over. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 399]] </h3>

<h3>Twenty minutes later you have your formerly contorted finger, straight as it possibly could be encased in a splint. It's incredibly swollen, the tip looking like a purplish bulbous head but it's on it's way. You try to wiggle it around. “Stop that,” Nia instructs. “Don't fiddle with it, don't touch it and don't fall asleep on it.” “I was listening when the doctor was talking,” you remind her. “I don't doubt that, you just deliberately like to do the opposite of what's good for you,” she claims. You scoff, “if that isn't an indirect snide comment I don't know what is.” “I'm sorry,” she says. You're stunned. Her face is doesn't show any expression of remorse but she did apologize. “Nia—“ “I'll try to be more direct about my judgemental comments in the future.” You want to throw something. She has a jovialness in her eyes and gets up, pulling down her dress. She walks to the foot of the bed and clasps her hands behind her back. You sit up, the paper material under you crinkling heavily. You stare at each other hardly blinking. It doesn't yet feel the showdown. This is the longest you've spent with her where you haven't exploded. It unsettles you because it could mean the other shoe is waiting to drop. “You shouldn't try so hard to see me. Although this is so dumb it's actually turned all the way around and I have to say I'm impressed,” Nia admits. “At my stupidity?” you ask. “Yeah, it's flattering that you would break a finger to get any excuse to talk to me,” she says. “Only something an insane person would do but still, all this effort to convince me to join your suicide mission.” She's under then impression that that's all you want from her. <hr>\ * [[“I wanted to see you.”|Page 400][$confesstonia to true]] * [[“Can you blame me?”|Page 400]] </h3>

<h3><<if $confesstonia>>\ You try to sit up as straight as you can, to make sure she can see your eyes clearly. “You said at your house that I only came to see you for Imre. But that's not true. I wanted—,” you cut yourself off, you don't how to say this. “What do you want?” Nia asks, her voice above a whisper. You clench your good hand into a fist and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You walk over to her by the foot of the bed. You face her and she still faces the bed, but her head swivels to meet your eyes. “I wanted to see you. The whole investigation thing was just an excuse. Like yeah I want you to work with us but not because your mom might be involved but because your Nia and I've missed you,” you confess. It doesn't come out as smoothly as you want it to. Your words trip over each other and you end up sounding like your pleading. Maybe you are. Her brown eyes penetrate your soul. She doesn't say anything for a moment. She hardly ever says anything without thinking first. “You don't make this easy,” she says with a huff. “You should hate me far more than you do.” You smile, “you did say I like to do the opposite of what's good for me.” She doesn't return your smile but she does something so inpercetible to those who don't know her like you do. She relaxes. You can see the miniscule signs of levity in her face, in her body. A tight string being loosend at one end with teeth. “What was Imre's pitch?” she asks. When she sees the look on your face she reassures you. “I believe you. But Imre obviously had an ace under his sleeve to get on board. What is it?” <<else>>\ You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stare at her. “You're so damn stubborn! We've tried everything, we've been trying to talk to you for weeks and all you do is stick your proud nose in the air as if this is all beneath you!“ Nia crosses her arms over her chest. “Not wanting to die is not me being proud. You and your boy friends are so obsessed with stroking your egos that you haven't stopped to think what this would be for me.” You get up and walk over to her. She doesn't look at when you face her but you don't care, you're not backing away. She will listen to what you have to say whether she wants to or not. “You're not the only one who's risking their life. We all are. The difference is that we're willing to, it doesn't fucking matter why we're doing it. It could be selfish but the end result is the same, getting justice for those murdered kids and saving future victims,” you state. Nia remains looking ahead. The cords of her neck are taut. “For someone who says she wants to save lives, you sure don't give a shit about anyone more than you do yourself,” you condemn. That comment makes her eyes flit to you. In them you see utter darkness. The full force of her glare engulfs you in a web of thorns that you know she wishes could make you bleed. She turns her body your way and takes a step closer. Her face is inches from yours and you can practically feel the artic anger radiating off of her. “I don't care if you hate me. You come for my dreams again and I'll break the rest of your fingers,” she promises. “I don't give a shit. It won't make what I said any less true,” you say. Nia and you remain like that. In a battle of wills. You could stay like that for hours. Her voice comes out like iron when she asks, “what's Imre pitch to manipulate me to do this?” <</if>>\ You take out the framed picture from your $holder and hand it to her. She walks away from you, holding the picture in both her hands. Going to the window she stops and looks down. You can't see what she's feeling but she looks at the picture for a few minutes. You can see her thumb pressed on the glass pane. [[NEXT->Page 401]] </h3>

<h3>You need to give her a final push. Something that speaks to the hidden desire she has had to know the woman who birthed her, all her life. You think about you and your mother. There is so much you needed from her and she never gave anything until you choose not to need anything. Well, that's not true. Sally tried. But that's enough about your traumatic and complicated feelings with mothers. <hr>\ * [[“Maybe she didn't leave willingly.”|Page 402][$mommygone to true]] * [[“Don't you want to know?”|Page 402][$mommymaybe to true]] * [[“You could get closure.”|Page 402][$mommybye to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $mommygone>>\ You take a step forward. “Don't you get it Nia? What if she didn't want to go? That means she never left you. She had no choice.” <<elseif $mommymaybe>>\ You tilt your head to the side, trying to get a better look at her face. “She's been gone for fifteen years. Why? Isn't it time you knew?” <<elseif $mommybye>>\ You walk up to her. You stand behind her but close enough that she knows you're there. “At least you'd finally know. Even if it's not the answer you want at least you can finally move on.” <</if>>\ You hear her fiddling with the picture frame and when she turns to you and holds out the picture frame you see that she's ripped her mother out of it. She tucks the piece of her mother into her pocket. “Tell me more about how you think my mom has something to do with all this,” she orders. “Well look at the facts. Your mom was terrified of the woods, everyone said she was crazy but now the mayor has basically warned everyone away from it. Your mom was older than the girls who disappeared but since this thing is eating boys what's to say it hasn't got an appetite for anyone? Your mom warned my mother about how dangerous this place was she wanted to leave with you. If she really was thinking of always leaving why did she leave most her stuff behind? It sounds more like she was in a hurry and she ran with what she had. To top it all off this creepy picture with our parents in it? Why was this taken? What were the celebrating? Was it a celebration? Or something else? She said she saw things in the woods. Who's to say she didn't?” ==Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla== ==Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla====Orla== “OK,” Nia puts up her hand. “I get it.” You let out a breathe, you hadn't realized how fast you were speaking. Anything having to do with the investigation it's just like taking a shot of adrenaline. “Good. So?” She walks past you, “so I'll walk you out.” “So that's a YES?” you ask and follow her. [[NEXT|Page 403]] </h3>

<h3>“You'll take them?” “For the tenth time, yes I will,” you assure. You hold up the prescription note the doctor assigned to you. Nia looks at the double doors to the outside. It's started to rain again. “I'm joining that weird club of yours,” she states. “Yeah I know.” “And I'm not putting my ass on the line if it comes down to it, I'm not going to die young,” she reiterates. “Yeah I know.” “If I got eaten I will come back to drag you down to hell with me,” she promises. “Nia.” She sighs. “I'll ask my dad if he knows anything and I'll go through my mom's things. If I find something I'll call one of you.” “You include Lorcan in that?” Nia scoffs, “god no.” “Figured.” Nia looks at the doors again. “Is Imre taking you home? The weather's awful and I don't finish my shift until four.” “He will.” //Thanks for offering//. [[NEXT|Page 404]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know if you should leave now. It's not like you're cool again. Should you just go? “Is Imre treating you good?” Nia inquires. You blink. “I guess. He's not like Lorcan if that's what you mean.” “No that's not what I mean. Lorcan's feelings are easy to know,” Nia states. You roll your lips. “He invited me to his Halloween party.” Her eyes slowly move back to you, “is that right?” You have no idea what she means by that. “Are you going?” She shrugs. You start walking to the doors. You push them open and the sound of the rain roars fiercely. You put on your $hat. You turn around and see Nia holding the door open. <hr>\ * [[Suggest you go costume shopping.|Page 405][$bestiesc to true]] * [[Leave.|Page 405]] </h3>

<h3><<if $bestiesc>>\ “If you do go...” Nia raises her eyebrow at you. “To the party?” “Yeah. If you do go then maybe we could I don't know... go looking for Halloween costumes together?” you suggest. “I used to force you to dress up because you hated Halloween,” she remarks. You roll your eyes, 'I don't hate Halloween I just was just not that into it.” “Sure.” You wave and start walking away but you manage to catch something subtle on her lips. The ghost of a smile. <<else>>\ “Ok, well see ya,” you say. She doesn't say goodbye and you just walk away before you catch something in her face that makes you regret anything you don't want to. <</if>>\ [[NEXT->Page 406]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "wind" stop>><<if $tribute>>\ “Wow,” Imre concludes. You're all in the car parked in front of your house. The rain pelts against the roof heavily, droplets of rain climb down each of your faces. Somehow, Imre makes it look good while you and Lorcan look like you live in the swamp. “Just wow?” you ask. He taps the steering wheel. “Very wow,” he replies cheekily. “What? Think I couldn't do it?” you ask, a smug tone colors your words. Imre's lips quirk. “I was about ninety percent sure you could do it.” “And the ten percent?” “You took so fucking long,” Lorcan interrupts from in between the seats. “Literally told this guy Nia probably finally killed your ass.” “In a fight to the death you don't think I could win?” you ask, turning in your seat. Lorcan laughs in your face. You put your hand to his face and shove him back. You look at Imre, “so now what?” “We wait until she finds something,” he says. After saying goodbye to the boys, you run into the manor and quickly shut out the storm. <<else>>\ “... but I believe she's fully onboard,” Imre concludes. You're all in the car parked in front of your house. The rain pelts against the roof heavily, droplets of rain climb down each of your faces. Somehow, Imre makes it look good while you and Lorcan look like you live in the swamp. “She doesn't sound so convicted though. Feels like she'll bail at the first sign of trouble,” you state. “Crowny's right,” Lorcan chimes in from in between the seats. “We can't trust her.” Imre snorts and looks at both of you. “Since when did all three of us trust each other?” Lorcan makes a face that seems to say //fair enough//. But you shake your head, “no I don't think this is a good idea. We should just find other leads.” “What other leads? Even if their were other avenues you can't deny that Yasmine Mir is a good lead. Nia will look through her mother's things and report back to us,” Imre claims. “I just don't agree. Why don't we just do what you said? Break into Nia's house and find what we need?” you offer. Imre gives you an irritated look, “you're not being objective.” You throw up your hands, “Nia is flakey ok? //Sorry// for wanting a trustworthy member of this group.” “Then Imre should be kicked out,” Lorcan snarks. Imre ignores him and tells you, “whatever personal issues you have with her arent't important. I'm sorry but they're not compared to this. She's joining the group whether you like or not.” You angrily get out of the car and slam the door. Without looking back you run into the manor and quickly shut out the storm. <</if>>\ <<if $hobby is 'flowers'>>\ You spend the next few hours doing some schoolwork and working on your flowers. You've want to make a big bouquet and put it in a paper vase. Maybe there's some water-color paints in the attic. <<elseif $hobby is 'exercise'>>\ You spend the next few hours doing some schoolwork and doing some strength training. You do get unmotivated when you see no progress in your body, even when you had time to exercise at the asylum your body never changed. <<elseif $hobby is 'book'>>\ You spend the next few hours doing some schoolwork and flipping through a book. At first it was hard to concentrate on another person's life when yours is so chaotic but soon enough you found yourself lost in the world of adventures that were much lighter than yours. <<elseif $hobby is 'draw'>>\ You spend the next few hours doing some schoolwork and started working with charcoal. You want to try your hand at other other drawing instruments and charcoal is very easy. You slowly shade in the tree outside your window. <<elseif $hobby is 'write'>>\ You spend the next few hours doing some schoolwork and write. You have foregone finding a new word. Now you just write about you and your life. It seems less real when you put in down in pencil. It could almost be a story you made up. <</if>>\ [[NEXT->Page 407]] </h3>

<h3>You're trying to prevent yourself from falling into old patterns. Since you've been back home you've kind of fallen into... undesirable habits.<<if $vice is 'smoking'>>You know why, addiction is an easy crutch. It's not like you weren't living with a bunch of other mentally ill people who had strong substance issues. Yours could just give you cancer.<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>You know why, addiction is an easy crutch. It's not like you weren't living with a bunch of other mentally ill people who had strong substance issues. Yours could just make you choke on your own vomit.<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>You know why, addiction is an easy crutch. It's not like you weren't living with a bunch of other mentally ill people who had strong substance issues. Self-harm can be just as addictive as drugs.<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>You know why, addiction is an easy crutch. It's not like you weren't living with a bunch of other mentally ill people who had strong substance issues. You just never thought it would happen to you.<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>You know why, addiction is an easy crutch. It's not like you weren't living with a bunch of other mentally ill people who had strong substance issues. Your addiction is more mental than physical although to you it does feel real.<</if>> It won't work. You already know this. Tonight before bed you'll do what you always do because not doing it will ruin your night. Its the only thing that makes you feel like you can function still. That's a problem for later. And just as you think that the throbbing pain begins in a spot right between your eyebrows. You groan and push aside what you're doing. You try to stand up but it feels like you're being stabbed in the head. Whimpering without tears you're on your knees on the floor. You start crawling towards the door. Sweat breaks out over your head, you can't actually feel it but it falls into your eyes and in trying to wipe it your other hand holding your body up wobbles and you topple to your side, your hip bone whacks on the hardwood panelling. Moaning like a animal who's been shot and left to die in the woods you get into fetal position. You think you fainted or blacked out because when you come to again you're leaning on the wall for support as you slowly make for the bathroom. Blindly you open the cabinet mirror and arbitrarly push aside pill bottles and cough syrups, knocking them all to the floor. They break on the tiles, coating them in red viscous medicine and small little circles. <<if $tribute>>\ You find the pill bottle you're looking for. The painkillers they gave you at the hospital. You had Imre stop by the pharmacy for you. You could only take one a day, you were repeatedly warned how powerful these where and how easy they were to abuse. You don't think you can bear it. You want to but this migraine makes your knees wobble. You can't think, you can't sleep, you can't eat or even be when it gets this bad and this is the worst you think it's ever been. //Go on. Just think of how much relief you'll feel when you take them. You can't keep going on like this unless you want to put a gun in your mouth.// <hr>\ * [[Take them.|Page 408][$migpills to true]] * [[No.|Page 408]] <<else>>\ You find the pill bottle you're looking for. It's your mothers. You found it weeks ago. She used to get horrible headaches for stress and she was prescribed these. A last resort. You thought you could bear it. But this migraine makes your knees wobble. You can't think, you can't sleep, you can't eat or even be when it gets this bad and this is the worst you think it's ever been. //Go on. Just think of how much relief you'll feel when you take them. You can't keep going on like this unless you want to put a gun in your mouth.// <hr>\ * [[Take them.|Page 408][$migpills to true]] * [[No.|Page 408]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<audio "hopeless" loop play>> <<if $migpills>>\ You desperately open the bottle with your teeth and shake out many pills in your palm, you can't be bothered to count. You gobble them up and then turn on the tap, lean down and greedily drink water. You wipe your mouth and sit down on the floor, your back leaning against the bath tub. You hug your knees and put your head on them, closing your eyes and waiting. <<else>>\ With great effort you grip the bottle but don't open it instead you close the cabinet. You fall to the floor and lean your forehead against the cold tiles. A macabre display of praying. You grit your teeth so hard you feel a chip in one of them. You close your eyes and wait as your body is bathed in sweat. You grip the pill bottle as a stress ball. <</if>>\ You don't know how long you stay in the bathroom but eventually you're able to stand up on shaky legs. Still, you hold the walls for support. You think of covering yourself in blankets and not looking at any light source twenty-four hours. You stumble along the hallway, glad for it's dim wall lights. Your let your hand slide along the wall, feeling the chipped paint give way beneath your fingers. It seems that the hallway has elongated while you were dying in the bathroom. Your room at the furthest end looks to be minutes away. You shake your head and lean it against the wall. You feel a tough surface — no a //different// surface pressed against your cheek. You lift your heavy head and see your face looking back at you. [[NEXT->Page 409]] </h3>

<h3>You lean back, your hand is splayed on your imitator's chest. Your little painted face gazes back at you, staring intently. When you were thirteen your parents made you and your siblings sit for hours with them to get a family potrait painted. You remember how much you hated the clothes your mother had picked out for you.<<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>A black dress with white lacings and a matching headband.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>A black suit with a red bowtie.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>A black dress with white lacings and a matching headband.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>A black suit with a red bowtie.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>A black dress with white lacings and a matching headband.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>A black suit with a red bowtie.<</if>> You remember how stifling and tight the material was, you had armpit stains. Being the youngest you stand near your mother, your hands clasped in front of you. Percy stands to the other side of her, a bored look on his face. Mother sits in the middle in a dark red dress and a dignified face. Sally hands his hands on your shoulders, he's smiling. Your father stands behind your mother, one heavy hand on your mother's shoulder and a serious look in his eye. Your sister stands near him and behind Percy. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>She's wearing the same dress you are but in pale pink.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>She's wearing the same dress you are but in pale pink.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>She's wearing the same dress you are but in pale pink.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>She's wearing a pale pink dress.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>She's wearing a pale pink dress.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>She's wearing a pale pink dress.<</if>> She's smiling but her eyes show how much she had loathed that session. She didn't like being in the back. She had gotten into a fight with your father because she wanted to go out with her friends and not stay in this //“fucking crypt .”// You see a locket dangling from her thin neck. It's silver, a color she hated but for as long as you could remember she wore the necklace. She didn't even take it off to shower. You guess you could understand why Lorcan was so desperate for it. Your eyes climb to her face again and she's looking at you. She wasn't a moment ago. You swear she wasn't. Her mouth is closed into a thin line and her eyes are wide, so wide it looks animated, like those caricutures of real humans made by street artists. You look at her from different angles and her eyes follow you. You blink and look at the other faces. They look fine. Their eyes don't move. You look back at her and she's smiling again. You lean closer and examine her face. You dare it to move in front of you. “Get away from her.” [[NEXT|Page 410]] </h3>

<h3>Your mother's silhouette stands in the darkness, just behind one of the lamps. The dim light reflects off her wine glass. You step back as she walks into the small pool of light in the hallway. She's changed into another night gown from the last time you saw her. There's a dark stain on her chest. Her hair looks less greasy but it's haphazardly attached to her head. She gives you a withering look and looks at her daughter. Her eyes shine and she sloshes the wine in the glass. “She was so perfect. A living doll. I don't think this town ever had ever seen a pretty girl like that. They told me you know,” she says in a distant giddy voice, “when she was born, that she was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>The unspoken sentiment is very loud. You were the ugly sister. The sister that was only useful to contrast against her beauty.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>The unspoken sentiment is very loud. You were lesser. An ugly brother that ruined the series of pretty children she had.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>The unspoken sentiment is very loud. You were lesser. An ugly sibling that ruined the series of pretty children she had.<</if>> “I wanted her beauty to be perserved. God,” she laughs bitterly, “He gave me what I wished for. If I knew she was going to be taken so young I would have left this fucking place,” she goes on. She sways as she walks and presses her hand to Orla's face. She sniffs and long seconds pass as in uncomfortable silence for you. How can you leave without her noticing? The floorboards are notoriously squeaky. //Please, as if she gives any thought towards you.// “I couldn't be without his money,” your mother says. She looks back at you. “Your //father//,” she spits out the word, “knew that. That's why he knew I couldn't leave. I had nothing. Not even my parents.” <hr>\ * [[You don't care.|Page 411][$idc to true]] * [[You feel bad.|Page 411][$iddc to true]] * [[You're ambivalent.|Page 411][$imc to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $idc>>\ The last thing you want is to hear your mother's sob story. So she had it bad? Your live hasn't been peaches and cream either and a big part of that is thanks to her. At least you can agree your dad sucks too. <<elseif $iddc>>\ Some people would call you stupid for feeling bad about your abusive mother. You can't help it. You feel so bad for her, there's never been a point in your life where you haven't seen her suffer at the hands of your father. No one deserves to be treated like that especially by their husband. <<elseif $imc>>\ You used to care so much about your parents. In the rare moments when they complained about the other to you, you felt elated they trusted you. You spent so much time waiting for your parents that one day you realized it was never going to happen and you didn't need them. <</if>>\ “Mother, I think you should go back to bed,” you advise. She sneers, “you 'think'?” She pushes herself off the painting and stumbles to stand in front of you. “Since when havr you thought about me you ungrateful little monster?” her sour breath makes your nostrils flare. “It's late Mother. I don't want to get into it with you,” you say calmly. “You don't get to tell me what to do!“ she slurs and pokes you hard in the chest. You stumble back. She almost trips, some of her wine spills on the ground. She looks at you hard, her lips curled and you know you should leave, let her be and she won't follow. But... <<if $idc>>“I'm ungrateful? What the hell do I have to be grateful for? As if you ever gave me anything to scoff at! I got nothing from you!“ you accuse with an finger to her face.<<elseif $iddc>>“I'm never been ungrateful Mother. I always tried to do eveything, EVERYTHING you ever asked me to do and there was always something wrong about me,” you protest.<<elseif $imc>>“What do you want from me? To beg? Too many years too late mom. Call me whatever you want, I don't care about what you think anymore,” you declare.<</if>> [[NEXT|Page 412]] </h3>

<h3>Your mother stares at you for a second and then laughs. Actually, a more appriopriate word would be cackle. She cackles. Raspy forced cackles. It makes you think of water-logged leaves stuck at the edge of a sewer drain. She takes your hand, and raises it up to see the pill bottle still clutched in your hand. When her eyes flick back to you there's a small pinpoint of live admist the dead. “Maybe this is why you hate me as much as I hate you. We're pretty much the same,” she attests. “No we're not,” you shake your head vehemently. Your mother's hand moves down to your wrist and she digs her nails in. She starts dragging you down the hall, ignoring all your protests. You try to pull her fingernails out of you but her grip doesn't budge. She shoves her door open and sways as she goes to the vanity mirror. She brings you to stand side by side with her. She grabs your cheeks roughly and brings your face next to hers. “Don't you see? You're my spitting image,” she says with a resigned voice tinged with laughs. You're about to say you're not. That you always looked more like Sally and by extension your father. That Orla looked like her and that's why your mother loved her and not you. But as you go back and forth from her face to yours you see something you hadn't seen.<<if $skin is 'pale'>> Your skin is so pale, indistinguishable from a corpse. But there's a undertone that wasn't there before. It looks warmer than before. The same as your Mother's.<<elseif $skin is 'fair'>>Your skin used to be so fair, you would always have a natural blush. But it's darkened a smidge. You would call it almost tan. The same as your Mother's.<<elseif $skin is 'tanned'>>Your skin used to be so tan, you would burn to a nice color in the sun. But it's darkened a smidge. You would call it almost brown. The same as your Mother's.<<elseif $skin is 'brown'>>Your skin used to be brown, the only time you looked alive was when you wore bright colors. But it's darkened a smidge. A darker shade of brown. The same as your Mother's.<<elseif $skin is 'dark brown'>>Your skin is still dark brown, it's one of the few noticeable things about you in a town so small. But the undertone is different, not cold but warm. The same as your Mother's.<</if>> Then there's your eyes.<<if $eyecolor is 'gray'>>There's hints of gray in there still but around the iris you see much more blue than before.<<elseif $eyecolor is 'blue'>>There's hints of blue in there still but around the iris you see much more brown than before.<<elseif $eyecolor is 'brown'>>There's hints of brown in there still but around the iris you see much more green than before.<<elseif $eyecolor is 'green'>>There's hints of green in there still but around the iris you see much more black than before.<<elseif $eyecolor is 'black'>>There's hints of black in there still but around the iris you see much more brown than before.<<elseif $eyecolor is 'brown and blue'>>How come you never noticed your heterochromia was an inheritance from your mother?<<elseif $eyecolor is 'brown and gray'>>How come you never noticed your heterochromia was an inheritance from your mother?<<elseif $eyecolor is 'green and blue'>>How come you never noticed your heterochromia was an inheritance from your mother?<</if>> The shape of your lips, eyes, eyebrows and ears are like your mother. Even your expression is identical to hers. Forlorn and defeated. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's daughter and there's no cure for that,” she states. And you want to tell her she's wrong. That your own saving grace is that you don't look anything like her but even you aren't so blind. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's son and there's no cure for that,” she states. And you want to tell her she's wrong. That your own saving grace is that you don't look anything like her but even you aren't so blind. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's daughter and there's no cure for that,” she states. Even though she calls you the wrong thing the statement hits somewhere in your chest because you can't deny it. Even you aren't so blind. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's son and there's no cure for that,” she states. Even though she calls you the wrong thing the statement hits somewhere in your chest because you can't deny it. Even you aren't so blind. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's daughter and there's no cure for that,” she states. Even though she calls you the wrong thing the statement hits somewhere in your chest because you can't deny it. Even you aren't so blind. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Her grip on your slackens, she puts her palm against your cheek gently. “You're your Mother's son and there's no cure for that,” she states. Even though she calls you the wrong thing the statement hits somewhere in your chest because you can't deny it. Even you aren't so blind. <</if>>\ [[NEXT->Page 413]] </h3>

<h3>“The one who's most like me is the one who hates me the most. Figures I'd be fucked like that,” she says. You take her hand off of you. She turns her head to look at you, you keep your eyes on the mirror. “Orla was different. She had dreams. She was going to leave this place. You and me? We've always settled and accepted the little that was given to us.” She leaves you, going back to lay in her messy bed. “Both miserable and under the thumb of a man who will never let us be what they don't want us to be,” she mumbles sleepily. She gulps the last of her wine and lays the glass on her night stand. You look at her in this state. Is this how pathetic you looked when you were at the hospital? A nothing person? <hr>\ * [[☄ “I'm not like you.”|Page 414][$deny to true]] * [[☽ “I guess you're right.”|Page 414*][$admit to true]] * [[☽ Say nothing.|Page 414**][$nobait to true]] </h3>

<h3>“That's why you never liked me, because I was and am a disappointment to you,” you confirm. Those words feel like bile out of your mouth. They feel like lies. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>//Do you think just because you don't drink that you aren't an junkie like her? Little liar.//<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>//Don't you drown yourself in alcohol every night like she does? Little liar.//<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>//You really think there's a difference between you hurting yourself and the way your Mother does it? Little liar.//<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>“Aren't the pills you swallow every night hers? At least when you run out of yours. Little liar.//<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>//Don't you float around like a ghost too, as invisible as the floorboards? Little liar.//<</if>> Your mother shakes her head, a grim smile on her face. “Trust me honey, that's never been the reason.” <<set $Worth += 1>> You walk out of her room and slam the door. When you shut your door behind you, you think of getting rid of everything in your room that could remind you of her. But that seems insane. So you take your floor-length mirror and drag it out of your room. You think of putting it in the attic but it's too heavy so you take it outside. The rain comes down heavily as you hoist the mirror over the mud your shoes are sticking in. [[NEXT->Page 415]] </h3>

<h3>“Is that why you always hated me so much? Because she was so perfect and nothing like you but the fuck-up was?” you ask. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance.//<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance.//<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. Yours is just more bloody.//<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. You even choose the same painkillers.//<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. Addicted to disappearing into nothing.//<</if>> Your mother shakes her head, a grim smile on her face. “Trust me honey, that's never been the reason.” <<set $Worthless += 1>> You walk out of her room and think of slamming the door but don't. When you shut your door behind you, you go to the full-length mirror and peer at your face. You decide you don't need a mirror anymore. So you take your floor-length mirror and drag it out of your room. You think of putting it in the attic but it's too heavy so you take it outside. The rain comes down heavily as you hoist the mirror over the mud your shoes are sticking in. [[NEXT->Page 415]] </h3>

<h3>You don't want to give her the satisfaction even though by the look on her face she knows she got to you. You shouldn't of let her words get to you. But it just confirms how much of a disappointment you always have known yourself to be. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance.//<<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance.//<<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. Yours is just more bloody.//<<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. You even choose the same painkillers.//<<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>//You're both addicts too. Maybe that was another inheritance. Addicted to disappearing into nothing.//<</if>> Your mother shakes her head, a grim smile on her face. “If you think the reason I hate you is because of that, trust me honey, that's never been the reason.” You walk out of her room and firmly close the door. When you shut your door behind you, you see the full-length mirror and have no desire to look at yourself that much anymore. So you take your floor-length mirror and drag it out of your room. You think of putting it in the attic but it's too heavy so you take it outside. The rain comes down heavily as you hoist the mirror over the mud your shoes are sticking in. <<set $Worthless += 1>> [[NEXT->Page 415]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "hopeless" stop>><<audio "rainywalk" loop play>>\ You drag it to where all the cars are parked. The rain soaks your hair and clothes. You slip on mud and hit the trunk of an old beat up puke green Oldsmobile. You hold onto it as you stand up straight and look around you. The rain doesn't let you see into the forest. All you see are the outlines of trees and you don't know why but you pause and look and wait. Are you expecting to see her again? She's always there if not when you close your eyes at the edge of vision. She never leaves you. Why won't she leave you alone? You thought when she died you would be free of her menacing eyes. You didn't think of her in the years you were gone. Perhaps it was the distance, your fraught relationship or the meds but she became a distant memory. Now she's more involved with your life than she ever was in life. “What do you want?” you ask the night. The only answer you get back is the never-ending rain and the sound of branches dancing in the wind. [[NEXT->Page 416]] </h3>

<h3>The night is long. After you throw the mirror out you strip off your clothes and get into the shower. The hot water is soothing against your forehead, the only thing left of the migraine is some mild discomfort. Dinner is late because the power goes out. You and your brothers all come out of your rooms and Sally hands you a flashlight. “I'll go find some candles,” he says. You hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen. Percy goes into his room and soon enough you smell a pungent odour. You sniff the air and realize it's weed. Percy used to smoke a lot when he was in high school. Your father would throw all his weed out but Percy always replenished his stock. You think he likes doing it inside to piss off Sally. And right on cue, “Percy I hope that isn't what I think it is!“ “Fuck off!“ Percy yells back. Something metallic falls to the floor in the kitchen. Your mother hasn't come out of her room, Sally tried knocking when the power went out to no avail. You hear her shuffling around her room. All these sounds and smells of life in this house. It's like a decrepit building with rats scurrying around. Rats that hide in the corners and desperately try to find something to keep them alive. Your family. How different is it from others in the world? Or is this the way all families are? [[NEXT->Page 417]] </h3>

<h3>You were taught are families are tightly bound together by fate, Something in the universe choose to make a group of people related. Your family seemed to be all adrift with ribbons fastened to the other like chains weighing you all down, no matter how hard you try how much you fight you can’t loosen the ribbons. Do you even want to? Percy no longer tries. He would talk about leaving this town and this family behind when he finished high school. Then he just stayed. Is it because it's the only thing he has? The only thing you have? Is this form of illustory closeness and affection better than having nothing at all because who can understand how fucked up you are if it isn't your family? Maybe there's a comfort in knowing that no matter what you do they're bound to you forever. Even if it's fallen apart. Here, at this point in your life, how do you feel about your family? <hr>\ * [[You want to get away from them.|Page 418][$gofam to true]] * [[You would rather this than having no one.|Page 418][$yesfam to true]] * [[You accept it as it is.|Page 418][$acceptfam to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $gofam>>\ Hopefully you'll get into a school far away from here and never have to come back.<<elseif $yesfam>>\ Unhealthy? Yeah. But being raised in this family would make anyone like this. <<elseif $acceptfam>>\ What's the point in feeling any which way about something unchangeable? You'll just give yourself stress. <</if>>\ No matter what you feel though, right now it does feel like this will be your life forever. Sally going grey-haired getting home everyday, Percy stealing money and blowing it on weed everyday, your mother drinking herself to death everyday, your father somewhere... You laying on your bed, trying to evade and capture sleep. Orla, there and not there. You wonder if things would've been better if you weren't here. If you had died instead of your sister. Sally would have no strong obligation anymore, he would treat Percy better and he might have the encouragement he needed to do something with his life. Orla wouldn't have you as a constant reminder of what she lost, she could let go and be who she wanted to be without all that hate burning a hole in her. Your mother wouldn't be so depressed and with a family that's much more bearable your father would be around more. You might've ruined this family. //There's no 'might' about it sweetheart.// You rub your tired eyes. //You did ruin everything, everything you touch decays. Your family must be paying karma with you. Do you feel bad? That you destroyed any chance they ever had of happiness?// <hr>\ * [[Yes.|Page 419][$guilt to true]] * [[No.|Page 419][$noguilt to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $guilt>>\ “I feel bad about all the things I've ever done,” you reply softly. You feel everything so intensely. Good feelings and bad. A blessing and a curse. It doesn't answer, you just can tell it's smirking. <<else>>\ “Guilt has never done anyone any good, I don't need to be punished,” you reply firmly. If having no guilt makes you a bad person then so be it, you don't give a shit. It doesn't answer, you just can tell it's smirking. <</if>>\ “Alright kids, dinner's ready!“ Sally yells from downstairs. You and Percy get out of your respective rooms at the same time. He reeks and when he sees the questioning look on your face he smiles lazily. “$sibrelation!“ He throws an arm over your shoulder and you have to hold him up all the way to the dining room. When you come in with most of Percy's weight on you Sally sigh is deep and loud. He takes Percy from you and deposits him in his chair. The table is lit with long white candles on silver holders. Sally moves some of them away from Percy who has laid his head on his plate. “I don't know what to do with your brother,” Sally says. “He won't work, he won't go to school, he doesn't have any aspirations.” “Maybe he needs some support Sally,” you suggest. Sally folds his napkin on his lap while looking at you. The candles flicker about his face. “Isn't that what I've always done? I given you kids all the support I can. I've been trying to do my best but none of you meet me halfway.” His eyes bore into as he says that. You take a bite out of your salad to avoid having to answer. “I've had to make sacrifices and don't get me wrong. I would gladly do them again because I love you so much but it's hard not to feel as if it were all for nothing,” he continues. The flame in front of you flickers so that you can only sometimes see your brother's face. [[NEXT->Page 420]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tname>>“Even Orla, God rest her soul, didn't understand loyalty. Family $tname is the only thing we have, we have to protect ourselves at all costs.”<<else>>“Even Orla, God rest her soul, didn't understand loyalty. Family $name is the only thing we have, we have to protect ourselves at all costs.”<</if>> “What do you mean Orla didn't understand?” you inquire. Sally is about to answer when the phone rings. Sally raises a finger and goes to it. You hear his brisk steps in the main room. You hear him pick up the phone and you slowly eat. Your taste buds not registering the salad. “Who is this? Who's calling and who are you calling for?” Sally demands. There's a silence and then he threatens, “this is considered harassament. If you call this house again I will go to the authorities—“ A second later you hear the headset click against the receiver. Sally comes back into the room and sits back down. “Who was it?” Sally folds his napkin on his lap again. “That horrible caller who made the maid quit. He's gotten more bold.” “I wouldn't know. I never answered the phone when he's called,” you say. “It's good that you didn't. I don't want you to hear some of the foul things he's saying,” he replies. “ufgggh less talky more quiety,” Percy mumbles from his face on his plate. [[NEXT->Page 421]] </h3>

<h3>Sally and you had to bring Percy back up to his room after dinner. Sally took that chance to take his weed for his room and throw it outside. Once again you try to sleep but you just end up looking up at the ceiling. You don't know where the idea comes from, it's just one of those things where if you're alone with your thoughts for so long it goes to anything that will take away your boredom. You think of calling someone. A quick chat and then to sleep. <hr>\ * [[Call Imre.|Page 422][$callimredeux to true]] * [[Call Nia.|Page 422*][$callniadeux to true]] * [[Call Lorcan.|Page 422**][$calllorcandeux to true]] * [[Force yourself to fall asleep.|Page 424]] </h3>

<h3>You get out of bed, open your creaky door slowly and peer out into the dark hallway. You slowly tiptoe downstairs to the first floor. Taking a still burning candle from the table you slowly dial Imre's number. You check your watch, you hope it isn't too late. The phone rings for a good minute before someone picks up. “Hello, this is the Duran residence, I'm Alba. Who may I say is calling?” <<if $tname>>“Uh, hello,” you say quietly. “I'm $tname. I was wondering if Imre is home?”<<else>>“Uh, hello,” you say quietly. “I'm $name. I was wondering if Imre is home?”<</if>> “Yes he is. Young mister Duran doesn't like to be disturbed in the late hours of the night,” she explains. “Oh, that's fine. I can call him back tomorrow,” you reply. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Wait a moment Miss. Mr. Duran said that if you called that I should inform him.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Wait a moment Mister. Mr. Duran said that if you called that I should inform him.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Wait a moment Mx. Mr. Duran said that if you called that I should inform him.”<</if>> Before you have the chance to say anything more you hear her set the phone down. You bite your top lip as you wait. Your eyes scanning the darkness of the house for any movement real or imagined. “Hey,” Imre's voice sounds friendly from the other end. “Hey,” you say simply. “You called me,” he states. “I did.” [[NEXT|Page 423]] </h3>

<h3>You get out of bed, open your creaky door slowly and peer out into the dark hallway. You slowly tiptoe downstairs to the first floor. Taking a still burning candle from the table you slowly dial Nia's number. You check your watch, you hope it isn't too late. The phone rings three times before someone picks it up. A sleep voice asks, “whoever is calling at this hour better be calling for something important or else.” “Hey Nia,” you say quietly. “It's me.” You hear a tired sigh. “Just because we're on regular speaking terms again doesn't mean I want you to call me at random hours of the night. I don't appreciate eye bags you know.” You laugh softly, “yeah I know. Although why did you answer? Don't have you a maid or a butler for that?” “I brought the telephone up to my room. My father doesn't get many calls and I don't really want him to one day answer the phone when it's one of you calling,” she explains. “Right. That's smart,” you agree. “I usually am,” she deadpans. You roll your eyes but your lips form into a smile. You still haven't gotten over hearing her voice more frequently now. [[NEXT|Page 423*]] </h3>

<h3>You get out of bed, open your creaky door slowly and peer out into the dark hallway. You slowly tiptoe downstairs to the first floor. Taking a still burning candle from the table you slowly dial Lorcan's number. You check your watch, you hope it isn't too late. The phone rings. And rings. And... rings. After a full minute you hang up. A small part of you is glad he didn't pick up. How could you explain your call anyway? //Hey Lorcan I called you because I wanted to hear your voice?// It freaks you out to even think that. You're about to walk away when the phone rings. It's chime is incredibly loud and you quickly pick up the headset, gritting your teeth from the chance it woke your brothers. “Hello?” you whisper almost angry. “Hello! I think someone from this number called me? I got this new machine from a flee market and I don't know how this works but it has this amazing button to callback whoever called you! Fascinating thing technology,” a woman says. Confused you ask, “is this Lorcan Stark's house?” “I have not owned this house for thirty years for someone to say it belongs to that little troublemaker. Don't get me wrong, I love the rascal but he has given me some headaches,” she replies. “Are you Lorcan's grandmother?” “Bingo! The very one. Name's Hannah. Now, and not to be mean darling but who the hell are you and why are you calling this late? Don't tell me that boy's in trouble again,” she says. [[NEXT|Page 423**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“You know nena, I don't mind the short answers but I would like to know why you called me?” he asks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“You know nene, I don't mind the short answers but I would like to know why you called me?” he asks.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“You know nene, I don't mind the short answers but I would like to know why you called me?” he asks.<</if>> You laugh awkwardly. Why did you call him? <<if $tribute>>\ “I don't... really know,” you admit. “I couldn't sleep and I thought of calling someone to just talk for a quick second.” “And I'm the first person you thought of?” he sounds delighted. “Well I don't know anyone who talks as much as you so...” you trail off with a smile. He laughs. “I know meant that as an insult but I take great pride in being able to not run out of things to talk about, I feel as if that's a lost art form among kids our age.” <<else>>\ “I didn't want to leave things the way we did earlier,” you admit. “I was pissed and I thought you weren't listening to me.” “I always listen to what you're saying. But I hope this call is for reconciliation,” he says. “I'm not going to kiss your ass. Fine you were right but that's as much as you'll get out of me,” you claim. He laughs. “I wouldn't expect anything more from you. Since we're on the same page again I do want to say that I understand this isn't easy for you.” <</if>>\ “That's true,” you say. You look at your watch again. “I should get going.” “I'm glad you called,” he confesses. “Hopefully Nia calls one of us tomorrow.” “Yeah we need to get on top of the investigation,” you agree. “No, I just want to see you,” he says and hangs up before you can process what he said. [[NEXT|Page 424]] </h3>

<h3>//July 1992 <<audio "rainywalk" stop>> She knocks on your door. It's only once but it's firm, an unmistakable sound. She's never done this before. It would be strange for her to do this in the day, but at this hour? What could she want? You feel that even your breathing is too loud and you bring the blanket up to your nose. You try not to move an inch. You don't know why, as if she doesn't know you're in here. But she wouldn't be knocking now if it was for something good. She's probably bored. She wants to take it out on you. “$name? Are you awake?” Her voice startles you. She doesn't speak like that. She sounds like a little girl. Orla is never scared, less of all of you. But the way she says your name sound pitiful. Like she's a second away from breaking down. She knocks again, a little louder. Maybe she'll stop if she thinks you're fast asleep? Immediately you reject that thought. Orla is nothing if not persistent. “$name,” she says more firmly. <hr>\ * [[Answer her.|Page 425][$answerorla to true]] * [[Don't answer.|Page 425]] // </h3>

<h3>“Are you going to tell me why did you call? If it's to ask me about my mom, Birdie it's only been a like nine hours, I'll need a few days at least,” she says. “No!“ you yell and immediately look around to see if anyone heard that. “No,” you say in a low voice. “I just couldn't sleep.” She hums. “Is that been happening for a while?” “Yeah lately, and when I sleep my dreams are less than fun,” you admit. “What do you dream about?” You rub your forehead, “it's confusing. And kind of scary. I can't really make sense of it.” “Huh. Well I'm not dream interpreter and I think that whole pseudoscience is a load of bullshit anyway. I would chalk it up to stress,” she suggests. You let out a tired breath. “Yeah I got a lot of that.” “Other than that are you ok?” You think of the migraines. Of the destructive things you think and are doing just to keep control. “Yeah I'm ok,” you lie. Nia yawns. “Good. I'm going to bed. Next time you want to talk to me do it when the sun is out because even though I like you I will hit you.” You smile and say goodnight. “See you soon, Birdie.” [[NEXT|Page 424]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pronouns is 'she'>>What could you say? 'Hey I'm Lorcan's dead exgirlfriend's sister and I'm calling to speak to him late at night.'<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>What could you say? 'Hey I'm Lorcan's dead exgirlfriend's brother and I'm calling to speak to him late at night.'<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>What could you say? 'Hey I'm Lorcan's dead exgirlfriend's silbing and I'm calling to speak to him late at night.'<</if>> She'll think it's weird. She'll think you two have something going on and the last thing you want is Lorcan's grandma thinking your sleazy because you're after your sister's boyfriend. Which you aren't. <<if $tname>>\ “I'm $tname. I'm Lorcan's friend. I was just calling about a school project. I didn't realize it was so late I'll just ask him tomorrow,” you lie. “Oh you're $tname? I can't believe this is how I meet you!“ she exclaims happily. “You know about me?” you ask. “Of course I do! Lorcan does nothing but talk about you all the time. Honestly it's getting a bit annoying, no offence,” she says. <<else>>\ “I'm $name. I'm Lorcan's friend. I was just calling about a school project. I didn't realize it was so late I'll just ask him tomorrow,” you lie. Oh you're $name? I can't believe this is how I meet you!“ she exclaims happily. “You know about me?” you ask. “Of course I do! Lorcan does nothing but talk about you all the time. Honestly it's getting a bit annoying, no offence,” she says. <</if>>\ Your mind goes blank at those words. You feel like your mouth might even be open in shock. Those words repeat over and over again in your head //Lorcan does nothing but talk about you all the time//. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his girlfriend,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious. Thank you for that gift.”<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his boyfriend,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious always saying //'I'm not gay grandma!'// I don't know what it's like for you kids but back in the 60s it was cool to experiment.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his boyfriend,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious always saying //'I'm not gay grandma!'// I don't know what it's like for you kids but back in the 60s it was cool to experiment.”<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his girlfriend,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious. Thank you for that gift.”<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his partner,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious. I think it's great he's venturing out and experimenting with other genders and no genders!“<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>“He hates when I tease him about his partner,” she laughs. “I'm sorry sweetie it's just so fun to see him flustered he's always so serious. I think it's great he's venturing out and experimenting with other genders and no genders!“<</if>> “I need to go,” you blurt out. “Night!“ “Oh! Well good—“ you hang up before she can finish, slamming the phone down hard. [[NEXT|Page 424]] </h3>

<h3>//<<if $answerorla>>\ “What do you want Orla?” you ask in a tiny voice. She doesn't say anything. You lift your head up to see the shadow of her feet under the door. “I need to talk to you,” she says. <<else>>\ You bite your lip and barely breathe. “I know you're awake,” she affirms and your blood runs cold. Shit. She doesn't say anything. You lift your head up to see the shadow of her feet under the door. “I need to talk to you,” she says. <</if>>\ You don't know what to say to that. Is she expecting you to let her in? A nice friendly chat in the dead of night with your sister who has been pacing and crying for hours. “Can't this wait? I have to be up early tomorrow to study for a test,” you lie. “No this can't wait. I really need you to come out,” she says. What you don't understand is why doesn't she just come in? Your door doesn't have a lock. “I just... we can't talk here actually. I need you to come with me,” she continues. “I'm giving you the chance to open the door.” You're apprehension turns to confusion. She's being too respectful for Orla. “Orla I don't know what's going on but I don't think we should do this now,” you respond. “Are you going to let me in or not?” she asks, ignoring you. <<if $answerorla>>\ You don't know what prompts you to say yes, maybe it's because you already resolved to answer her when she first knocked? “Ok,” is all you say. <<else>>\ “No,” you say with a strong voice than hers. <</if>>\ The door handle twists slowly. You can see the rays of moonlight in the hallway as the it opens with a loud creak like a wailing ghost. It opens fully and your sister stands in the door frame. [[NEXT|Page 426]]// </h3>

<h3><center>❖</center> <<if $milkshake>>\ You sip on your milkshake, the sugar rushes to your brain like an injection. Much appreciated after a series of sleepless nights. <<elseif $rootbeer>>\ You sip on your rootbeer float, the sugar rushes to your brain like an injection. Much appreciated after a series of sleepless nights. <<elseif $coke>>\ You sip on your coke, the sugar rushes to your brain like an injection. Much appreciated after a series of sleepless nights. <<elseif $sundae>>\ You lick the spoon of your sundae, the sugar rushes to your brain like an injection. Much appreciated after a series of sleepless nights. <<elseif $coffee>>\ You sip on your coffee, the caffeine rushes to your brain like an injection. Much appreciated after a series of sleepless nights. <</if>>\ <<if $tribute>>\ Although at moments you forget one of your fingers is broken and almost scream when you try to pick up anything. You don't even taste what you consume anymore. Maybe that indicates something about your mood. <<else>>\ You don't even taste what you consume anymore. Maybe that indicates something about your mood. <</if>>\ “They don't have anything here below five hundred calories,” Nia complains. She's has the menu propped up and has been looking at it for five minutes, each time telling the waitress that she's not ready. <<audio "rock" loop play>> “You're better off getting a coffee,” Imre says and taps right below his eye. Nia shoots him a glare. “I know I love horrendous, but I haven been staying up the past two nights looking through my mom's old things. A bit of appreciation //querido.//“ Imre throws his arm over the back of the booth, his fingers touch her shoulders. “I appreciate it.” “I haven't even had breakfast can you two cool it?” Lorcan groans, his chin resting on his folded arms. “They're not dating,” you say. “I think any type of love is gross,” he responds. “Then you must've been disgusted with Orla,” Nia says nonchalantly. Lorcan narrows his eyes but doesn't talk back. “Alright let's not get into any fights. Nia, you said you had something to show us?” Imre inquires. [[NEXT|Page 427]] </h3>

<h3>The waitress comes by again and asks once more — and if you're not mistaken — with less gusto, “are you ready to order miss?” Nia folds the menu and replies, “just get me a diet soda, any kind will do.” The waitress' practiced smile tightens but she confirms she'll be back with her drink. Once she leaves Nia reaches into her alligator skin purse, a gift for her 15th birthday from her dad which made you raise your eyebrows when you saw the price tag. The three of you move aside your menus, drinks and salt and pepper shakers. She puts a something covered in a cream cloth on the table. You lean in closer as she unwraps it. A book lies within it. A moleskin book that's frayed around the edges. It looks like it's seen better days. You see what looks like lines on the cover and gently trace them. “Is this a symbol?” you ask. “Could be,” Imre says. “What is that?” Lorcan asks. “My mom's diary,” Nia responds. Your fingernail follows the lines, they're too faint to see clearly, at least in the warm lights of the Lodge. “Did you know she had one?” Imre asks. Nia shakes her head. “I thought it was a random book when I found it. I was going to throw it out. But....” you move your finger away as she opens it. The first page is blank but for an elegant script detailing that this diary belongs to //Yasmine Gumede Mir//. “Good find,” Imre says. “Good find?” Lorcan says incredulously, “great fucking find!“ <hr>\ * [[Ask about Nia's dad.|Page 428]] * [[Focus on the symbol.|Page 428*]] * [[Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.|Page 428**]] * [[Watch on silently.|Page 428***]] </h3>

<h3>“What about your dad? Did he say anything?” <<set $ano to true>> “I haven't asked anything yet. He doesn't like talking about my mom so I think I'll have to start bitching about her to get him going,” she says. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “How does that work?” Lorcan asks. “There's nothing an ex-husband love more than bitching about his wife,” you explain. “Really?” he asks again. You and Nia exchange looks. “Men,” she says will an eyeroll. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “Why?” you ask. Nia gives you a look of disbelief. “You're asking me why?” “Yeah I don't get it either,” Lorcan says. Nia looks from you to Lorcan and just shakes her head with a sigh. “You two always remind me you're men.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ “How does that work?” Lorcan asks. “There's nothing an ex-husband love more than bitching about his wife,” you explain. “Really?” he asks again. You and Nia exchange looks. “Men,” she says will an eyeroll. <</if>>\ “Do you think your dad knows what happened to your mom or why she left?” you ask Nia. She shakes her head, “no he would tell me. I do think he might know about some of the things she said near the end. All those crazy ramblings people said she had.” Imre catches your eye and it's both of you have a silent agreement to not push Nia on the subject of her dad, for now. <hr>\ * ==Ask about Nia's dad.== <<if $ant>>* ==Focus on the symbol.==<<else>>* [[Focus on the symbol.|Page 428*]]<</if>>\ <<if $anth>>* ==* Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.==<<else>> [[Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.|Page 428**]]<</if>> * [[You have no more questions.|Page 429]] </h3>

<h3>You trace the lines with your fingers. “Imre?” <<set $ant to true>> “Yes?” he asks, not looking at you as he swirls the milk into his coffee. “Do you think there's a way we can see this symbol more clearly?” Imre looks over at the front cover. He moves his coffee to the side and slides the diary towards himself. He traces the linework and taps his fingers on the table for a second before reaching into his satchel. He rips out a piece of paper from a notebook and presses it the cover. Taking a pencil he starts following the lines as carefully as he can. He holds up the paper and gets a scrunch in between his eyebrows. “What?” Lorcan asks. “It's a strange symbol,” Imre replies and hands it over to you. You look it over. It's nothing you've ever seen before. It starts off with an upside down triangle that breaks into four lines, two finish the triangle and the two others criss-cross each other. The bottom ends with what looks like V and so random curved lines. “Have any of you guys ever seen this before?” you ask around the table. None of them say yes. You fold the paper and stick it in your pocket. <hr>\ <<if $ano>>* ==Ask about Nia's dad.==<<else>>* [[Ask about Nia's dad.|Page 428]]<</if>>\ * == Focus on the symbol.== <<if $anth>>* ==* Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.==<<else>>* [[Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.|Page 428**]]<</if>> * [[You have no more questions.|Page 429]] </h3>

<h3>“I mean did you know she wasn't born town?” <<set $anth to true>> “Here ya go!“ the waitress comes back with Nia's drink. Nia takes it and looks pointedly at the waitress until she awkwardly leaves with a half-hearted, “wave me down if you need anything else kids.” Nia opens her can with her acrylic nail and takes a sip. Her nose wrinkles at tad and she sets it down. “I don't know anything about Yasmine Gumede's life before she married my dad,” Nia responds. “She left before I got into first grade, any little thing I knew I don't remember. I didn't even know what her last name was before I found her diary“ “Well that's not strange. I don't know much about my parents before they had me. Come to think of it, do any of us know who are parents were and were they were born before 1975?” Imre asks, looking at all of you. Lorcan looks up at the ceiling, his version of a thinking face. “My dad was born in town I'm pretty sure. No actually I'm totally sure. My grandma was a bit of a party-er but she swears she had him in town. I don't know about my moms.” Lorcan looks at you, so do the other two. You shrug, “beats me. My parents haven't been that present in my life and I don't know them now so it's even worse to know anything about them before I was born. Sally might know something.” “Maybe in this we find answers for why are parents are the way they are,” Imre postulates, holding up the diary. <hr>\ <<if $ano>>* ==Ask about Nia's dad.==<<else>>* [[Ask about Nia's dad.|Page 428]]<</if>>\ <<if $ant>>* ==Focus on the symbol.==<<else>>* [[Focus on the symbol.|Page 428*]]<</if>>\ * == Ask Nia what she knows about her mom.== * [[You have no more questions.|Page 429]] </h3>

<h3>“So what are we waiting for?” Lorcan reaches for the diary, “lets read the damn thing already.” Before he can flip it open Nia takes it from him and holds it to her chest. “Let's try not to be stupid first.” “What Nia meant is that we should probably go over it somewhere private where we can read it calmly,” Imre suggests. “The maids are big mouth gossipers, they tell my dad about everyone who comes in and comes out of the house,” Nia says. He gives you a questioning look. “The walls are thin my house, we're still out of electricity and Sally could come in at any moment and he already doesn't like you two,” you point at the Imre and Lorcan. “You guys could come to Cam,” Lorcan offers, “grandma likes to go out and play bingo at the church we can have the whole house to ourselves.” Nia makes a face that to call it 'digusted' is an understatement. “You want us to go to the trailer park? I'm not caught up on my vaccines for that.” “Hey! It's not as bad as you think!“ Lorcan protests. “Except for the constant police raids, drug busts, dirty half-naked running kids and creepy old men who grope teenage girls? Yeah sounds great,” Nia snarks icily. “Nia,” Imre says with disapproval. “Thank you for the offer Lorcan,” Imre says politely, “but perhaps somewhere safer and with a good enough reason to be there.” “You all can fuck off,” Lorcan pouts. Nia scoffs, glancing at Imre. “And that's how you get me and Birdie to go.” [[NEXT|Page 430]] </h3>

<h3>“How many days until Halloween?” you ask. Imre gives you a curious look but he answers, “three.” //Three?// You look down at your hands. Time is sleeping away. You don't even know what day it is today. “It's perfect. The mansion will be full of drunk teenagers, you three in the eyes of those who care are only there to go to a party. We spend some time in the festivites and a few hours in we meet in the library and pick apart the diary,” Imre proposes. “Someone will definitely notice we're all going in there. I guess it's better to think we're having an orgy than reading the diary of a-maybe-woman,” you say. “Ha!“ Lorcan says, coke dribbling from his lips. You give him a puzzled look and Lorcan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looks up he sees everyone giving him that look. “What?! Imma a hater but that was funny,” he says defensively. He goes back to aggressively gulping down his coke. You choose to ignore that. “What about your parents? Where will they be?” you ask. “My father knows about my Halloween parties, he and my mother go to the city,” he replies. “And Lorcan,” Imre says pointedly. “Don't sell at my party.” Lorcan raises up his hands innocently. “Prejudice asshole not all white trash sells drugs.” “Sure,” Imre says and takes a sip of coffee. “I'm going to the bathroom,” Nia says and Imre slides out of the booth to let her through. “And I'm going for a smoke,” Lorcan says and gets up. Imre takes out a book and removes a bookmark. He leans back and starts silently reading. [[NEXT|Page 431]] </h3>

<h3>You... <hr>\ * [[Go to the bathrooms.|Page 432*]] * [[Stay here.|Page 432]] * [[Go outside.|Page 432**]] * [[You don't want to talk to anyone.|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3><<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. She goes in and opens the door enough so that you can come in. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but two? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has a boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. You stop near her and lean your back against the wall. She looks inside the bathroom and says, “no one's here. You can come in if you want.” She goes in and you look around you to see if anyone's looking, then you go inside. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. You've never been in a girl's bathroom before. You didn't know what to expect but it doesn't like that much different than they boy's. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but three? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has had two boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Most feminists are hypocrites. Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. You stop near her and lean your back against the wall. She looks inside the bathroom and says, “no one's here. You can come in if you want.” She goes in and you look around you to see if anyone's looking, then you go inside. Although no one would bat an eye that you're here. You haven't yet started to put much effort in your everyday wear. You still look like a girl although you have planned future masculine outfits. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but three? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has two boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Feminists are hypocrites but to be fair you weren't a guy to me for the majority of our friendship. Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. She goes in and opens the door enough so that you can come in. Although you still could've checked if someone saw you come in. You haven't yet been more feminine with your everyday wear. Physcially you still look like a boy. You do have future outfits planned though. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but two? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has a boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. She goes in and opens the door enough so that you can come in. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but two? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has a boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You slide out of the booth and follow Nia. She pauses to push open the door to the lady's bathroom and sees you coming. You stop near her and lean your back against the wall. She looks inside the bathroom and says, “no one's here. You can come in if you want.” She goes in and you look around you to see if anyone's looking, then you go inside. Just because you don't see yourself as a guy doesn't mean other people do. The bathroom's interior design is as strange as the rest of the Lodge. There's 50s pop culture memorabilia everywhere along road signs and mounted dead animals. The floors are wood panelled but the walls are a deep red and the counters for the sinks are checkered. “Tacky, isn't it?” she asks as she notices you look around. You walk up next to her. She leans closer to the mirror and starts fixing her hair. You don't know why, it looks perfect. You lean your hip against the counter and watch her. She straightens up and rummages in her purse. She takes out a tube of lipstick and checks the bottom, she throws it back in. She takes out another, checks it and takes off the cap. “You didn't need to go to the bathroom did you?” She side eyes you as she sweeps the tip of the lipstick along her bottom lip. “I did. Just not to piss. I don't like when my lipstick smears. Also,” she swipes again, “I can handle one man but two? Too much testerone for me.” You feel your lips quirk. “For someone who has a boy bestfriend you really despise men.” She slowly paints her cupid's bow. “Half the time I can't stand Imre either.” “Then why do you hangout with him?” She rolls her lips together and starts swiping at the edges with her finger. “Imre is a lot of things but he is also the best listener I've ever met. Even if he's listening for his own selfish reasons, at least you know he sees you.” That's a surprisingly tender observation. You never thought about him that way. She swipes her finger along her bottom lip and then her upper. She smacks them a few times and then throws her lipstick back in her bag. “Can I ask you something?” she asks. <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $nialockuno>>\ * [[⟡ “Sure.”|Page 433-PN][$platask to true]] <<else>>\ * [[♡ “Sure.”|Page 433*][$antaask to true]] * [[♥️ “Sure.”|Page 433-FN][$frienask to true]] * [[⟡ “Sure.”|Page 433-PN][$platask to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>Imre slowly flips the pages of the paperback. He doesn't mouth the words or follow along with this finger. He doesn't read to convince others he is. His eyes never leave the page as he takes his coffee and brings it to his mouth. “Do you read?” he asks. <<if $hobby is 'book'>>\ “Yeah I do. It's a bit of hobby of mine,” you reply. Imre smiles at you over the top of his book. “Good. I find people do it less and less these days.” “They probably have other things going on,” you say. Imre shakes his head, “no, no. You can always make time for books. Any book really, it helps to expand the mind.” “Well then I guess I'm smarter than most people,” you jest. He just smiles in response. <<else>>\ “Not really,” you reply, a bit ashamed. Imre looks at over the top of his book. “You should. A worrying trend I've seen recently is that less and less people are reading.” “Is that really such a bad thing?” you ask. Imre gives you an incredulously look but stifles it and instead gives you a friendly smile. “Reading helps your brain, it's working out a muscle essentially. It helps with reading comprehension and literacy. It's very important to have those things.” “Maybe I should get on that then,” you acquiese. He nods. <</if>>\ But instead of going back to his book he takes you in. You pretend to be looking at the posters on the wall but heat rises to your neck. He looks at you slowly, it's never a quick once over with him. “Do you want me to read to you for a few minutes until the others come back?” he offers. <hr>\ <<if $imrelockuno>>\ * [[⟡ “Ok.”|Page 433-P][$platread to true]] <<else>>\ * [[♡ “Ok.”|Page 433][$antaread to true]] * [[♥️ “Ok.”|Page 433-F][$frienread to true]] * [[⟡ “Ok.”|Page 433-P][$platread to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>You forget how cold it is out here. The door chimes shut behind you and Lorcan glances at you from the makeshift parking lot. You shove your freezing hands into your coat and walk towards him. He blows out a stream of smoke. Before you even reach him he asks rather brusquely, “WHAT?” You stop and don't know what to say. He looks at you like your stupid and elaborates, “what do you want? Can't have a fucking moment to smoke without any of you rich assholes coming to annoy the shit outta me with the investigation?” “I'm not here to talk about that,” you reply. “Then?” he taps his cigarette. “Why are you here?” //His grandma didn't tell him.// “You always ask me that,” you deflect. He rubs his red nose with the bottom of his palm, “yeah cause you're always around. Like what the hell is going on here?” he gestures between you two. “I hate you, you hate me so why are you near me all the time?” You're stumped. Because what do you say? He's right. You have no good reason that could explain why you're always trying to be with him. No explanation that would be reasonable. <hr>\ <<if $lorcanlockuno>>\ * [[⟡ “I don't know.”|Page 433**][$platout to true]] <<else>>\ * [[♡ “I don't know.”|Page 433**][$antaout to true]] * [[♥️ “I don't know.”|Page 433**][$frienout to true]] * [[⟡ “I don't know.”|Page 433**][$platout to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>When Nia throws her bag in the backseat it hits Lorcan in the face. He curses under his breath while cupping his nose and mouth. Surprisingly, he doesn't attack her. Or maybe that type of reaction is reserved for you. Or maybe he doesn't hit girls.<<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Although you're one and he's threatens to kill you about five times a week. It's lessened lately to two three times a week. You don't know if you should feel flattery that he woudn't hold back because of your gender.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Which is a bit unfair. That's not to say you think hitting girls is ok, you'd never do it but you do receive the brunt of his anger. He threatens to kill you about five times a week. It's lessened lately to two three times a week.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> Which is a bit unfair. That's not to say you think hitting girls is ok, you'd never do it but you do receive the brunt of his anger. He threatens to kill you about five times a week. It's lessened lately to two three times a week.<</if>> Imre fiddles with the radio, refusing to budge until he finds one that meets his taste because, “radio stations are kneeling at the allegorical phallus of the pop culture zeitgesit which is addled with braindead ideas leftover from the Reagan administration in pro and con.” Whatever that means. Nia starts bundling up because Imre's car is too cold when he has the heat on blast, and then gets frsutrated and starts playing around that which makes the backseats colder. Lorcan starts fighting with Imre over radio priveliges because he thinks everyone in the car should have a chance and Imre responds by saying that this isn't Soviet Russia. “What the hell is Soviet Russia?” Lorcan asks, trying to reach for the knobs. “Are you serious? Where were you three years ago?” Imre asks, baffled but still managing to swat his hand away. “Imre if you start a history I swear to God,” Nia interjects. All this to say that the car is half in chaos. Which for you, who lived in a literal mental asylum this feels nostalgic and you feel relaxed. You lean your back back and press your temple against the cold window. Your eyes idly watch the cars pass by. Your eyebrows furrow when you see Arthur's car parked at the side of the road. Imre's car starts backing up out of the makeshift parking lot and immediately Arthur starts his car and drives away. <<if $tribute>>Huh.<<else>>Huh. Once is a coincidence. Twice is...<</if>> You look around and everyone is talking about something widly different. It seems you're the only one who noticed. You'll keep this to yourself. For now. [[NEXT|Episode 7 Sponsor]] </h3>

<h3>You get up and wait for him to scoot over. You plop down beside him and take the book out of his hands. He gives you an amused smile and you shrug, “I don't want to lean on you.” <<if $kissy>>\ “That's rather strange. You didn't mind touching me in the rain,” he says. You shoot him a glare and he just responds with an innocent expression. “I wasn't thinking.” His smile grows flirtatious and you practically shove your face into the book and pretend to read. <<elseif $kissyi>>\ “That's rather strange. You didn't mind touching me in the rain,” he says. You shoot him a glare and he just responds with an innocent expression. “You kissed me.” His smile grows flirtatious and you practically shove your face into the book and pretend to read. <</if>>\ You start reading but he leans in, his arm presses against yours and even though there are layers between you two you still feel how warm his body is. You try to read the black text but you find that each time you read a sentence you have to go back because you can't retain it. You let out a big sigh. Imre leans his face near yours, his cheek almost brushing your skin. He points to a spot on the page and says quietly, “isn't that a beautiful passage?” You mumble some answer. Imre moves his finger along the page and slides it down your hand. You squeeze the book as his nail drags down your arm and you think he's going to continue until he reaches your face but instead he lets his hand drop to your thigh and he squeezes it hard. You almost yelp out of your seat. You look down and then look up at him but he's still reading the book. “I'm trying to read,” you claim angerly. He eyes open wide akin to a little child who broke a plate but blames it on the dog. <<if $tname>>“So am I $tname.”<<else>>“So am I $name.”<</if>> You slam the book shut and face him. He smiles and mirrors you so that your faces are mere inches from each other. “Stop that,” you demand. “Make me,” he dares, putting his fist under his chin and fluttering his lashes. “You think you're so cute, don't you?” you smile sarcastically. “The cutest, although you aren't so far behind,” he replies smoothly. You stare at a each other, neither of you willing to yield. You think about how the rain felt on your skin. The fierceness of his lips. Are all kisses like that? “I don't mean to interrupt but Imre I need to go home,” Nia says walking up to the table. You jerk away from Imre and stands up, shoving the table forward. Imre nods and puts his book back in his bag. You stand there unsure of what to do or say. Nia gives you a knowing look and then grabs her things. <hr>\ * [[⟡ Talk to Nia.|Page 434-N]] * [[Leave.|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3>“Do you like me?” she asks. The abruptness of the question throws you off guard and you say the first thing that co comes to mind. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “You're a girl.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “Do you think girls can't be into other girls?” You roll your eyes. “Nooooo,” you emphasize. “I'm not a bigot.” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “You hate men.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “You seen all the guys I've gone out with since ninth grade.” You roll your eyes. “Duhhhh,” you emphasize. “But you talked shit about them all the time.” “Is that why you're deflecting?” she asks. “I'm not deflecting,” you insist. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “You hate men.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “You seen all the guys I've gone out with since ninth grade.” You roll your eyes. “Duhhhh,” you emphasize. “But you talked shit about them all the time.” “Is that why you're deflecting?” she asks. “I'm not deflecting,” you insist. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “You're a girl.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “Do you think girls can't be into other girls?” You roll your eyes. “Nooooo,” you emphasize. “I'm not a bigot.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “You're a girl.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “You're not a girl, not anymore. So that solves the lesbian problem.” You roll your eyes. “That's not what I meant,” you emphasize. “I'm not a bigot.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “You hate men.” She side eyes you as she takes the cap off her mascara. “And?” You stutter, “what the fuc—“ “You seen all the guys I've gone out with since ninth grade.” You roll your eyes. “Duhhhh,” you emphasize. “But you talked shit about them all the time.” “But you're not a guy anymore so that doesn't include you. Why are you deflecting?” she asks. “I'm not deflecting,” you insist. <</if>>\ “Then why don't you answer my question?” she asks, opening her eyes wide as she applies her makeup. “Ok fine! I'm not liking much right now,” you reply. “Why?” “Because you're being annoying asking me all these stupid fucking questions!“ “How are they stupid fucking questions?” “UGH!“ you growl and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. You look at her in the mirror and she has a small smile on her face. “Did you even want to know the real answer or did you just want to be a bitch?” you ask. She closes her mascara, “I don't need to hear the answer from you.” She throws the mascara back into her bag. She puts slings it over her shoulder and turns away from the mirror. She stares you down, “I already know.” “What? How?” you ask, growing flustered. She takes another step closer and you feel like pushing her away or grabbing her and pulling her closer. “It's written all over your face my Birdie,” she replies and then struts out of the bathroom. [[NEXT|Page 434-I]] </h3>

<h3><<if $antaout>>\ “You always fucking say something like that,” he responds annoyed. You narrow your eyes and reply, “what about you huh?” “What about me?” “I don't see you rushing to get away from me,” you attest. Lorcan snorts, “because I'm stuck with you. If it were up to me I would never have to see you ever again.” His words hurt and it pisses you off that it hurts. Why do you care if this dick wants to spend time with you or not? He's a piece of shit anyway. He takes another drag from his cigarette and you quickly pluck it out of his fingers. “What the fuck are you doing?” He tries to reach for it but you hold it behind your back, hoping you don't set your clothes on fire. He tries to go behind you but you just turn around to face him again. “Give me back my smoke Crowny or I'll plummel your face,” he threatens, stomping towards you. “Say that you like having me around then,” you coerce. “Crowny that's my last cigarette give it back!“ he tries to swipe at it but you side step him. With a shit-eating grin you wave it over your head. “Admit you like this, that me annoying the shit out of you makes your life interesting.” He tries to kick you but you just jump back. “Have you lost your damn mind?!“ “A long time ago,” you say cheekily. You put the cigarette in your mouth and go around him, taunting him. He stops trying to grab it. His angry expression tranforms into... embarassment? He looks down at his boots. His shoulders slump and his hands shoved into the pockets of his oversized jacket makes him look so young. “You do,” he whispers. The confession startles you so much you stop moving. Your mouth goes ajar and your jovial attitude goes away with the wind. “Lorcan—“ He rushes forward and takes the cigarette from your mouth, he shoves it in his and says “HA!“ You can't even think straight. “How does it feel to be a dumbass dumbass?” he taunts you, making faces. You can't think straight. Only one thought goes through your head. //Your saliva is in his mouth.// “LOSER!“ Lorcan yells happily. Then he sucks in deeply and throws his cigarette to the ground. With a triumphant grin he walks away from you. As he opens the door to the Lodge he says, “stop standing there like a fucking robot, it's cold as shit.” That snaps you out of your trance and you follow him. He waits until you're a foot away before going inside. You see him go in the direction of the bathrooms. <<elseif $frienout>>\ “Thanks for the fucking answer,” he says bitterly. You lift up your hands in defeat, “what do you want me to say, Lorcan?” “Anything but that!“ he says and takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Knowing you if I say something nice you'll call me a freak and if I say something that hurts your feelings you'll try to punch me,” you say exasperated. Lorcan makes a noise and blows out smoke. You look around and try to conjure up the courage to say something good. But those things aren't right. Thoughts you've been having lately. Thoughts you can't examine in daylight but rather in the darkness of your room late at night when you can't sleep. Instead of saying what you want to say you ask instead, “do you want me to stop?” Lorcan pauses for a split second and taps his cigarette. He looks at his boots, at the cars in the parking lot, at the trees, at anywhere but you. “Why do you always make me feel like an asshole?” he asks in a voice so low you think he might've not meant it as an actual question for you. You start to turn around when he grabs hold of your wrist in a grip so hard it makes you wince. Still not looking at you he says, “just... fucking. STAY.” His words distract you from the pain, “what?” He sighs, “are you dumb and deaf? I said stay for fuck's sakes.” He immediately lets go of your wrist. You rub it and try to catch his eyes but he remains focused on nothing in front of him. “So is that a no?” “OH MY GOD!“ he groans. He takes a few more drags of his cigarette before throwing it over his shoulder. “I'm fucking cold come unless you want to freeze your ass off,” he declares and goes inside. When you get back in you see him disappear into the bathroom. <<elseif $platout>>\ “Well shit thank you for that iluminating answer Crowny,” he says with an eyeroll. You scoff, “you know what iluminating means?” He elbows you and takes a drag from his cigarette. “Not all learning is from the books dude.” You wave the smoke away from your face and reply, “you're telling me you learn long words from street smarts?” “Nah I heard that word in a movie. You do learn math though,” he says. You raise an eyebrow, “how's that?” He gives you a withering look. “Drugs, duh.” “Ah,” you say. “So like how does that all work?” Lorcan taps his cigarette, “why? You wanna start selling?” “Don't think I could?” you ask, a challenge in your voice. “It'd be perfect no one would suspect me.” “Do you know what a dub is?” he asks. You shake your head. “A dime? An eighth? A nickel? An ounce?” You shake your head again. “If I sell a dub of indica for ten bucks and a dub of sativa for five then how much would I charge someone who asks for half an ounce of indica, a half-quarter of sativa and a quarter hybrid in total?” You hold up your hands in surrender, “ok, ok, ok! I get it you have to be smart enough to sell.” Lorcan has a self-satisfied grin on his face as he stomps out his cigarette. “Then there's the fact that I would have to protect your ass cause trouble finds you like a.... give me a good metaphor.” “Like bees to honey,” you offer. He snaps his fingers, “exactly.” You smile, “so you're saying you would protect me.” He nudges you, “only if you pay me.” “I'm fucking cold c'mon,” he declares and goes inside. When you get back in you see him disappear into the bathroom. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 434-L]] </h3>

<h3>You get up and wait for him to scoot over. You sit down beside him and lean your head back to see the pages. He moves closer, “you won't see the text that far away.” You feel your cheeks warm. “I just don't want to presume.” Imre quirks an eyebrow, his smile friendly. “We've touched.” You look down at your hand, “I know. But like I don't know how this stuff works. Like can I touch you whenever? Where can I touch you? When? How?” Imre laughs, a beautiful laugh, throwing his head back. He closes the book and turns his head to the side, his cheek slightly squished because of the cushion of the booth. You lean closer, your cheek also squished by the cushion. “Don't laugh, I'm a newbie,” you say with a smile. “You're innocent aren't you?” he asks softly. Your eyes widen. “Um... in what way?” Your heart nearly bursts out of your chest as his fingers graze your cheek. You feel your cheeks move as your smile expands. The look on his face is hard to read. It's almost as if he were mesmerized. But that can't be true Imre doesn't get mesmerized by anything. “You shouldn't let people in so easily,” he says, still in a soft tone. Your eyesbrows scrunch together. “Do you not want me to be—“ “I said you shouldn't,” he interrupts his finger lightly grazing your chin, “doesn't mean I don't enjoy it.” His finger gently caresses your lips, stopping in the middle of your bottom lip and slightly pulling it down. “I don't mean to interrupt but Imre I need to go home,” Nia says walking up to the table. You jerk away from Imre and stands up, shoving the table forward. Imre nods and puts his book back in his bag. You stand there unsure of what to do or say. Nia gives you a knowing look and then grabs her things. <hr>\ * [[⟡ Talk to Nia.|Page 434-N]] * [[Leave.|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3>You get up and wait for him to scoot over. You plop down beside him and take lean in. “Whatcha reading anyway?” <<set $niafriendjealous>> He shows you the cover. “//20,000 Leagues Under the Sea//.” you say. “I've read many subgenres in the classic genre and I find that the ones that most catch my eyes are the adventure ones with hints of science,” he explains. “What about movies?” you ask. He ponders for a moment. “I feel like I'm much more forgiving with science fiction in books than I am with films. I found Back to the Future ridiculous.” You give him a shocked look. “What?” he asks. “Unbelievable,” you say shaking your head. “I can't be friends with someone who doesn't get the beautiful art of travelling back in time with an Delorean.” Imre makes a face and jostles you, you jostle him back. “I bet you like those weird French films that spend twenty minutes watching a water droplet fall from a petal,” you snark. Imre laughs, “are you calling me pretentious?” You nod with a self-satisfied grin, “the biggest mon ami.” “The next time we have free time I'm showing you what real film looks like,” he decides. “As long as you're paying,” you counter. Imre puts his book bag in his bag. “Using me for my money huh? I'm impressed.” “Why, thank you!“ “Sorry for interrupting this tender moment but I need you to drive me home Imre,” Nia says, walking up the table. You keep smiling at each other as you pick up your things. Imre hands Nia her coat and she looks between you two, a cold look in her eyes. When she sees you looking she walks past you without a word. <hr>\ * [[⟡ Talk to Nia.|Page 434-N]] * [[Leave.|Page 435]] [[NEXT|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3>“Do you like me?” she asks. The abruptness of the question throws you off guard. You didn't expect her to just ask you so bluntly but this is Nia you're talking about. She hates beating around the bushes. “Did you go mute?” she asks as she takes the cap off her mascara. You shake your shock off, “no.” “Ok, then are you going to answer?” You smile nervously, “you're my childhood bestfriend. Of course I like you.” Nia rolls her eyes and pumps her mascara, “don't pretend you're an idiot. You know what I meant.” You blink a few times and you look away, turning on the faucet and washing your hands. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Are you calling me a lesbian?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I'm not calling you anything. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Are you saying that I'm only friends with you to seduce you?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I didn't say that. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Are you saying that I'm only friends with you to seduce you?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I didn't say that. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Are you calling me a lesbian?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I'm not calling you anything. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Are you saying that I'm only friends with you to seduce you?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I didn't say that. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Are you saying that I'm only friends with you to seduce you?” you ask. She opens her eyes wide and starts applying her makeup. “I didn't say that. I'm asking if you like me. Not as a friend, not because of nostalgia. But me as a woman.” <</if>>\ “I think you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life,” you say breathlessly. She glances at you and throws her mascara in her bag. She comes closer and turns off the faucet, her arm grazes yours for a second and your breath intakes. “Do you think about me?” she asks, her voice low. “Do you think about me?” “All the time,” she replies and walks out of the bathroom. [[NEXT|Page 434-I]] </h3>

<h3>“Have you and Imre gotten close?” she asks. Your expression is puzzled when you ask, “what do you mean by close?” “Or is it Lorcan?” You cross your arms over your chest. She takes out her mascara and pulls off the cap. “You've been spending a lot of time with them, I'm just curious.” You feel a smile spread on your face, “is Nia Mir fishing for gossip?” She opens her eyes and starts applying her mascara. “We're bestfriends we have to talk about these things. You used to always make me tell you about my boyfriends.” “Correction, you used to tell me and I would pretend to listen,” you joke. She smiles, “asshole.” “Buttface.” “Idiot.” “Cocksucker.” “Only on Tuesdays,” she deadpans. You laugh, your eyes alight with glee. She puts her mascara away and on instinct you take her hand and press it. Your smile fades and you say sincerely, “I thought I lost you.” She presses your hand and replies warmly, “I should be saying that.” “Promise me that you'll never leave me again,” you say. Nia's eyebrows raise.”Birdie—“ “Please. Promise me,” you insist. She looks uncertain for a moment. But then she quickly recovers and looks you in the eyes, “I promise.” [[NEXT|Page 434-I]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niafriendjealous>>\ “Hey,” you reach for her arm. “What?” Nia looks down at where you're grabbing onto her. She looks at Imre, “could we have a second?” “Of course,” he says and goes to the counter. When she's made sure he's not paying attention she moves her arm out of your grasp. “What's wrong?” you ask. “Are you two friends now?” she asks, her voice cold. “I guess,” you reply, still confused. “That's great,” she says, sarcasm dripping off her every word. “What—“ you stop yourself and notice how rigid her face is. Oh. “Are you jealous?” you ask. “I don't like Imre nor you like that,” she states. You smile, “that's not the type of jealously I mean.” Nia presses her mouth into a line and walks out. <<else>>\ You wait for Imre to stand up before you turn to go. “Wait,” Nia says to you. You turn back and she's looking at Imre. “Could you just give us a minute?” she asks. Imre looks from her to you and then replies, “of course.” He goes to the counter and Nia waits until he starts talking to the waitress before asking, “Have you and Imre gotten close?” she asks. Your expression is puzzled when you ask, “what do you mean by close?” “Or is it Lorcan?” You cross your arms over your chest. “You've been spending a lot of time with them, I'm just curious.” You feel a smile spread on your face, “is Nia Mir fishing for gossip?” She shrugs. “We've been bestfriends most of our lives, we have to talk about these things. You used to always make me tell you about my boyfriends.” “Correction, you used to tell me and I would pretend to listen,” you joke. She smiles, “asshole.” “Buttface.” “Idiot.” “Cocksucker.” “Only on Tuesdays,” she deadpans. You laugh, your eyes alight with glee. She looks to the door and on instinct you take her hand and press it. Your smile fades and you say sincerely, “I thought I lost you.” She presses your hand and replies warmly, “I should be saying that.” “Promise me that you'll never leave me again,” you say. Nia's eyebrows raise.”Birdie—“ “Please. Promise me,” you insist. She looks uncertain for a moment. But then she quickly recovers and looks you in the eyes, “I promise.” <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3>When you get out of the bathroom you say Nia bringing her soda to the counter and talking to the waitress while pointing at the can. The waitress looks distressed. Do you want to talk to Imre or Lorcan? <<set $lorcanlockuno>><<set $imrelockuno>> <hr>\ * [[⟡ Imre.|Page 432]] * [[⟡ Lorcan.|Page 432**]] * [[No.|Page 435]] </h3>

<h3>You don't see Nia anywhere and Imre is still at the table. Do you want to chat with one of them?<<set $imrelockuno>> <<set $nialockuno>> <hr>\ * [[⟡ Imre.|Page 432]] * [[⟡ Nia.|Page 432*]] * [[No.|Page 435]] </h3>

<<if $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think guy knew what nailcare was. Especially you,” she emphasizes. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. “You're the most feral girl I've ever seen.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I've tried to fix your nails in the past and you've hissed at me,” she proclaims, amused. You scoff, “I did not hiss. I was clearing my throat.” “Sure,” she sarcasms. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ When she quirks her finely shaped eyebrow, you ask, “now what is that reaction for?” “I didn't think you out of all people knew what nail care was,” she emphasizes. “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, slightly offended. “Hey, don't give me that. It's just that you've never cared about your appearance and the past,” she explains. <</if>> “Are you going to do it or not?” you ask exasperated. She scoffs and gets up without a word. She doesn't make any gesture for you to follow her so you stay where you are. Fingers gripping the seat. Eventually she comes back with a basket. She sits down and goes through the polishes. Without looking up she asks, “are you going to pick something?” You get up and lean down by her, almost cheek to cheek. She has a copious collection of nail polish bottles. You point to the <<cycle '$nailp' autoselect>><<option 'red'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'purple'>><<option 'black'>><<option 'pink'>><<option 'yellow'>><<option 'orange'>><<option 'white'>><<option 'clear'>><<option 'green'>><</cycle>> polish. “Ok, scoot over here, and sit still or I'll fuck this up,” she commands. You push a foot rest next to her and lay your hand on the armrest. She moves it to her lap and begins filing your nails. She's surprisingly gentle with it. She constantly stops to lift up your hand and check her work. When she gets to the polish she makes slow, deliberate swipes. Careful not to coat your skin. Each time she does a coat she tells you to blow on your nail. It takes time, at certain points she swears when she or you accidentally mess up the polish. Finally she has you blow one last time on your nails, screwing on the cap of the polish and plopping it down in the basket. “Mess those up and I'm not redoing them,” she warns. You lift your hands up into the light of the fireplace and smile. <hr>\ <<if $piano>>\ * ==Ask her to play for you.== <<elseif not $piano>>\ * [[Ask her to play for you.|Page 345][$piano to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $stories>>\ * ==Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.== <<elseif not $stories>>\ * [[Ask her to tell you about gross hospital cases.|Page 345-H][$stories to true]] <</if>>\ <<if $confess>>\ * ==Tell her about Sally.==\ <<elseif not $confess>>\ * [[Tell her about Sally.|Page 345**-N][$confess to true]]\ <</if>> * [[Have dinner.|Page 346]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>//He was a fine man. A thing of dreams. The kind that no longer exists. A provider, a present father and a loving husband. The turns life takes are unpredictable. One day you're a beloved grandfather and the next you're being beaten to death by trolls. Carter Andrew Phillips will be missed. <<audio "rock" stop>> He will be missed by his two children, Allyson and Fred. He will be missed by his wife, Priscilla. He will be missed by his two brothers, Mark and Henry, along with their families. He will be missed by the one-eyed cat that attacked his genitals last spring. He will be missed by the tapeworm who demanded he eat cottage cheese for the last years of his life. He will be missed by the undetected brain tumor that would have killed him if the trolls didn't. He will be missed by his secret second family that stopped being so secret when showed up to the funeral. He will be missed by the priest who had a good chuckle when Priscilla slapped the mistress so hard she fell on the casket. He will missed by the screaming little granddaughter who will forever be traumatized by the image of the body of her grandfather falling out of the casket. He will be missed by the earthworms who started wriggling into his very dead ears (it was raining that day). He will be missed by the onlookers passing by the cemetery who saw around thirty people dressed in black getting into a fistfight and who thought 'huh, everyone mourns differently.' He will be missed by the police officers who were broken out of their boredom by being called to the scene to arrest thirty people who looked as the dead man did when he got pummelled by a group of traveling trolls. In effect, he will be missed. This message was brought to you by the two Phillips families who hope that by gaining public support they will soon be released from jail after being charged with battery and desecration of a grave. Also by the Traveling Trolls Troupe who feel really bad for killing that one guy. What was his name?// [[NEXT|Episode 7: Thriller]] </h3>

<h2>S1 EPISODE 7: Thriller</h2><<audio "creepydoll" loop play>> <h3> //December 17th 1985// There had never been more screaming kids in Croun Manor than there was today. For 364 days a year, the Crown children maintained a quiet existence to prevent the wrath of their parents. Well, Orla never did. She walked through life as if it bowed down to her. Mother and Father never reprimanded her for it. But today she was especially //persistent// in her attention-seeking ways. At least that is what it looked like to you. It wasn't a slight against her. It was a fact that Orla shined brightest on her birthday and she knew it. A light that burned retinas. The couches of the parlor had been moved temporarily into the foyer to leave space for the old dining table used for birthdays. Several of Orla's classmates sat in seats around it. The edge of their lips were marred with grease from the pizza, stains could be seen on the front of their shirts and you failed to understand how is it that they could hear each other over all the noise. Orla sat at the front of the table, near the doors. She had a sparkly pink dress on that delicately showed off her thin shoulders. Her long straight hair was twisted into a bun and you had seen the slippers peek out from under the hem of her dress. She was costumed as what she loved: a ballerina. She even wore a tiara, she threw her long hair behind her shoulders in such a haughty manner she seemed primed for royalty. And then there was you. [[NEXT|Page 437]] </h3>

<h3>Seated at the other end of the table you were alone as the other kids pushed their chairs to scoot closer to your sister. You were used to that by now. It's easier when Nia is around but she's home with the flu. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet dress that falls past your ankles. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were flats, black and shiny. They looked unworn. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet suit with a black bowtie of the same material. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were dress shoes, black and shiny. They looked unworn. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet suit with a black bowtie of the same material. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were dress shoes, black and shiny. They looked unworn. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet dress that falls past your ankles. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were flats, black and shiny. They looked unworn. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet dress that falls past your ankles. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were flats, black and shiny. They looked unworn. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ Last week your mother took Orla to the city to shop for a birthday dress. Your mother had Sally take you up to the attic and find suitable clothes, one that //'doesn't have holes.'// So you're wearing a brown velvet suit with a black bowtie of the same material. You were going to wear your best running shoes with it but someone left a box with a pair of shoes by your door this morning. They were dress shoes, black and shiny. <</if>> Your mother constantly comes in and out of the room, fussing over Orla, asking the kids if they're doing ok. The perfect hostess. Not even on Christmas have you ever seen her so animated. She wears a satin white dress, cinched at the waist and you hear the click-clack of her heels on the wood floors. She pointedly ignores your side of the room. Usually, she gives you quick glances when you're both stuck in a room together but she's avoiding looking at your father who is seated on the love seat in the corner. It's been hours and he hasn't let go of the glass from his hand. You're too young then to know what it is that he drinks but you do know it makes his breath smell funny. He wears a suit and tie, as always but for the occasion it is black. As for your brothers, Sally went to get the cake from the bakery fifteen minutes ago and Percy is the only one at the table who is sat nearest to you. He's stuffing his face and he hasn't looked up once from his endeavour. The theme of the party was done to Orla's taste. Pink streamers fall from the ceiling, pink birthday hats, pink and white balloons, pink plates and surely a pink cake. You did get to choose one thing... <hr>\ * [[The music.|Page 438][$pm to true]] * [[The drinks.|Page 438][$pd to true]] * [[The movie.|Page 438][$pmm to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $pm>>\ You don't really know much about that so you had Sally help you with generic birthday songs. <<elseif $pd>>\ Sally doesn't like you drinking sugary stuff so you took a chance to get some pop that tastes like grapes. <<elseif $pmm>>\ You randomly selected a kid's movie from the limited selection Sally showed you. <</if>> You take a small bite of your pizza. It's greasy something your stomach loudly protests to. Sally tells you that you can only eat bad things on special days like your birthday but your stomach isn't used to it so on birthdays, Christmases, Easters, Halloweens you get sick. You take a big bite. Orla giggles as she flips through the magazine she's been parading around for weeks. She initially did it to say 'look, I wanna be that.' Now she does it to say 'I'm going to be that.' Because your shared birthdays aren't just about the days you were born but also it's a celebration of Orla's dream. Since you could understand human speech what you heard from your sister all the time was that she wanted to be a ballerina. No... that she WAS going to be a ballerina and not just any, the best in the world. Before, back when things weren't as strained between you two she would spend hours gushing about her idols: Anna Pavlova, Margot Fonteyn, Georgina Parkinson, and other names you don't remember. She was good too. Everyone could see that. She had auditioned at one of those prestigious dancing schools in New York City and she had spent the last weeks oscillating between frantic happiness and anger-fueled anxiety. Just this week she got word that she had been accepted. She was going in January. It was unusual, schools like that didn't allow new students in mid-year. Hers was an exception. Exceptional is what she's been calling herself. Orla bends over the table to hand the magazine to another one of her friends, she accidentally catches you staring and she looks away. One more thing you're used to. Your relationship with your sister is cold. Chilly. She doesn't gush to you about her dreams anymore. It didn't happen immediately. Years wore on your relationship like an overused ring that oxidizes from lotion, water, and weather leaving a finger green. Was it because you simply grew apart? Because she couldn't understand you? Because she was frightened? It doesn't matter, though. She's leaving. She'll go off into the world, get everything she wants like always and never come back. She won't have to endure the repressive air of this house. Nor Mother or Father and their fighting. She won't have to see the walls peel, the rats scurry out from corners and the smell of damp that seeps into everything in the house. Does that bother you? Does that make you jealous? <hr>\ * [[Yes.|Page 439][$jealous to true]] * [[No.|Page 439][$notjealous to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $jealous>>\ What does she have that you don't? What makes her so great? Dancing isn't everything. Not enough for everyone to fawn over her. For your mother to trip over herself to make her princess' special day count. Your small hand grips the tablecloth. <<else>> Sure, you can't dance like her but you must be good at other things. You don't know what things yet but everyone has something. You'll find your 'something' and someone will appreciate it. Orla's accomplishing her dream and you're not angry about that. You take one more bite from your pizza before setting it aside. <</if>> After ten minutes of people-watching and intense soda drinking you feel pressure under your stomach. You push your chair back and jump to the floor. You bypass the partygoers who pay you no mind. You make sure not to even graze your mother. Your steps pitter-patter on the floor as you make for the stairs; the sharp resounding doorbell stops you in your tracks. You wait for a second, thinking and hoping someone else heard it too. It rings again. You peer into the parlor room but the loudness of their voices masks their ability to hear the doorbell. It rings again. <hr>\ * [[Answer it.|Page 440][$al to true]] * [[Ignore it.|Page 440*]] </h3>

<h3>You briskly walk to the door before it can ring again and thrust it open. You come face to face with a boy. Lorcan. Your sister's friend stands on the porch, his pale hair droops down his thin face. “Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly. “Hi,” you reply. Lorcan looks into the house and then nervously looks at you. Or rather looks at somewhere on your face. “Did the birthday party start?” “Yes.” On cue, you both hear a shriek of laughter from inside the house. You look at the entrance of the parlor and then look back at the boy who looks down at the box you didn't notice he was holding. “What's that?” you ask. Lorcan makes a face, still not looking at you. He looks... you don't know. But his face is going red. “I want to come in,” he says quietly, forcing the words out as if he had something stuck in his throat. You're about to respond to that when you hear your name. “$name!“ your father heads towards you. He grabs your arm and pulls you behind him. “Go back to the party,” he orders. You can't see his face but you can see Lorcan's. His eyes grow wide as he looks up at your tall father. “Go home boy, you weren't invited,” he says sternly. Lorcan looks down at his gift and holds it up. “I-I w-want t-t-t-to—“ “Don't you understand English? I said leave,” your father interrupts and shoves Lorcan back. The small boy stumbles but doesn't trip. He looks fearfully at your father and then back at his gift. He sets it down and scurries down the porch steps and runs from the house. Your father picks up the gift and comes inside the house. He takes off the top and looks inside. He scoffs and notices you're still standing behind him. “Back to the party before I wring your ear,” he warns. You don't need to be told twice. You run to the parlor but glance back at your father who calls one of the maids. You never found out what Lorcan's gift was, by the time things had calmed down after the party you found out he had it thrown in the trash. [[NEXT|Page 441]] </h3>

<h3>You blink slowly, watching the princesses on your plastic plate over and over again. You've yawned a few times. Every time you feel yourself drift off a loud laugh from one of the kids wakes you up. You'd think it was on purpose but when you look around no one is paying you any mind. Right when you feel as if you're about to face plant on your cold pizza you feel a hand on your head. “Sweetie?” You jerk away and see Sally bent over you. He smiles brightly at you. “Sally, you're home,” you say in between yawns. “Yeah, and I got you and our sister your cake,” he informs. You wipe your eyes and look over to the big white box in front of Orla who's standing with her friends crowded around her. “Get up sweetie, it's time to blow out the candles,” your brother says softly and coaxes you out of your chair. Feeling sluggish you plop down and with more yawns you let your brother guide you towards the group. Percy reaches for the box but Sally slaps his hand. Percy shakes it and steps back, glaring at Sally. “I was just looking!“ he defends himself. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “You'll look after our sisters blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “You'll look after our sister and brother blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “You'll look after our sister and brother blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “You'll look after our sisters blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “You'll look after our sisters blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “You'll look after our sister and brother blow out the candles,” Sally scolds. <</if>> Percy sticks out his tongue. Sally lightly moves some of the kids away to leave room right next to your sister. You stiffen under his hand but he directs you to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. Well almost, she is taller than you but not by much. Orla slightly edges away so as to not have her arm brush yours. She very much avoids looking in your direction and takes up whatever conversation she had with her friends before you got here. All the kids that you displaced migrate over to Orla's side. You don't want to be here. You give what you hope is a pleading look to Sally but he just smiles at you apologetically and runs a hand down your hair. Your father has not moved from his spot by the corner, he's finishing his drink, as you've seen him do about ten times in the last few hours. Your mother has gone somewhere, probably to get the things for the cake. Orla tries to move further away but the gaggle of kids are so boisterous they tussle her and she's pushed against you. Her eyes widen and she looks down at where your arms are touching. Her button nose wrinkles as if she's seen something crawl on her. She moves her arm away but her look of disgust disappears as you make eye contact. Is it for the first time in a very long time? You can't remember. She blinks a few times. Her face is almost unreadable, it's smooth except for the slight skin folds in between her eyebrows. The force of Orla's eyes on you makes you want to crawl under the table. However, they keep you in place. It's so easy to forget why they all flock to her until you're caught in her web. Being seen by her is like having a giant stage light on you. So powerful you feel yourself sweating. Seconds seem to take hours with your staring contest. What do you do? <hr>\ * [[Try to talk to her.|Page 442][$mend to true]] * [[Keep staring.|Page 442]] </h3>

<h3><<if $mend>>\ Maybe if you start, she will speak to you? She could be your sister again. She could like you. She could love you. She just needs to hear you. <<else>>\ Is it arrogance? Competitiveness? Or something else that keeps you there unable to do anything but take in her stare and hit her with yours? <</if>> //Look at her, thinking she's so much better than you because she gets to leave this place. That bitch.// Your eyes flit away as the magnetic force of Orla is broken. From the peripheral of your eyes you can still see her turned toward you. //Why does she deserve this? She's not special. Not like you. If only she knew, if they all did. She wouldn't compare. All these people would crowd around you, bowing on their knees to even get a spare glance.// You want to shut your eyes tight. It's a dream. You're dreaming. “What are you doing?” Orla asks from a lifetime away. Your hands tingle. //I think it's time for your dear sister and your mother to be shown who's truly exceptional in this family.// Your eyes throb but no matter how hard you try to merely blink, it's as if your eyelids are being held open by hooks. “Don't tell me to shut up dummy,” Orla's voice sounds louder. You turn to her. “Wha...” “I'm not shutting up you shut up,” she says with a pout. The tingling runs up your arms and you feel that something is pushing against the back of your eyeballs. You conjure up a violent image of your eyeballs pooping out and hanging down your eye sockets held by a string of meat. //Why is it that you suffer, that you're unloved when you did nothing to deserve it? She's doing nothing to get all the love that belongs to you. If it wasn't for her taking up all the air, your mother would see how amazing you are, your father would send you off to buy nice clothes on his money, and you'd have so many friends your head would spin. It's all because of her. Because she's too selfish, she could give you some of what she has but she hogs it like a pig. She's the evil one, not you.// You feel as if an earthquake has been born beneath your skin. You've only ever seen images of one. The devastation it leaves. Fallen buildings, bodies trapped under concrete and screams. //Let us show her what happens to gluttons, let us administer justice. Let her see the error of what she is and never think herself above us ever again.// <hr>\ * [[Allow it.|Page 443][$cruelty to true]] * [[Fight the urge.|Page 443]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "creepydoll" stop>><<audio "hunted" loop play>>\ <<if $cruelty>>\ You let its words wash over you, bathe you in its thick metallic smell. You let its thoughts become your own. Their malice, the dark swirl of negativity exuding from within your chest is indistinguishable from being born of you or them. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!“ everyone starts singing. You're momentarily pulled out of your internal transformation. <<else>>\ Something itches at the back of your memory. A certain deja vu. You can't see exactly what this reminds you of but you know that you can't let it take over. You dig your nails into your palms trying to draw blood. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!“ everyone starts singing. You're momentarily pulled out of your internal struggle. <</if>>\ You and Orla are jostled together as more and more crowd around to sing in your faces. The voices penetrate your brain like tiny needles sticking into your forehead. A cold sweat breaks out over your forehead. You blink and your mother is there, placing the candles on the cake. Your age on one side and your sister's on the other. Your mother clicks the lighter wand to life, and the yellow flame bursts upon the tip. It waves slowly in front of her face. You can see all its movement. As it dances it's like it takes away all the light from the world. You slowly turn your head to the windows. You can see the gray light of day but it's as if a net where on the windows that stifled the full blast of outside light from coming into the room. The shadows from corners expand and envelop your father, his glass the only thing reflecting his presence. Total darkness creeps along the room, you see it lick the arms of the children and your family. They don't see it. Their smiling faces look macabre alight from the flame. Their teeth are too large, their eyes too small. The creases from their fervor become deep grooves in their skin and they look ancient. You can see their mouths slowly moving but you don't hear them. Only Orla looks the same. She looks at the cake with a pleased smile on her face. The light falls on her beautifully, she is not made ugly by it. Through distorted senses you see your companions clap but you still don't hear it. You see blobs of spit come from their mouth as they keep singing, the words come through but they're slow and jumbled as if someone were talking with a yawn. The buzzing in your body hurts. You feel if you touch someone you'll shock them. A bright flash expands slowly somewhere from the darkness in front of you. It recedes and Sally brings a camera down from his face. His smile malevolent. “ʜꙅiw ɒ ɘʞɒM,” your mother says. You see your sister close her eyes and lean forward, and without thought you do too. <hr>\ * ==I wish I was normal.== * ==I wish my parents loved me.== * ==I wish I wasn't scared.== * ==I wish this would stop.== * //[[I wish I could hurt.|Page 444]]// * //[[I wish I could hurt.|Page 444]]// * //[[I wish I could hurt.|Page 444]]// * NO! PLEASE— //[[I wish I could hurt.|Page 444]]// </h3>

<h3>You and your sister blow out the candles. The room is plagued by darkness. You hear sound as you did before. It hits your eyes like a loud train whistle and you cover your ears. Then another bright flash and the daylight floods into the room glinting against the knife your mother moves downward to the cake. The buzzing stops and you launch yourself at her, grabbing her hair and pulling it hard enough to feel it give way. She screams and drops the knife in an attempt to throw you off of her. The cacophony of screams from the rest of the children makes you look around enough in time to see your father hurtling towards you. You let your mother go and crawl on your knees to find where the knife fell under the table. You reach under the tablecloth and right when your fingers graze plastic you're pulled back by your father. At least that's what he attempts. He tries to you up but you barely budge an inch. He grunts as he strains with all he has to move you but like a prehistoric mammal encased in ice the rest of your body with exception of your hand stays perfectly still. “AH!“ he grunts as he falls back onto his back. Your hands wrap around the handle of the knife and you pull it out. You see your eyes in the steel. “$name?” You see your brother's face appear behind you in the knife. He tries to smile but it comes out wobbly, unsure. He holds out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sweetheart, please give me the knife. You'll hurt yourself.” You stand up slowly and see that all of the kids including Percy have fled. Your sister remains where you last saw her. At the head of the table. She stands frozen, her hands up, open as if that could hold you off. “$name,” Sally says again. You notice that her tiara still sits nicely on her head. Her face has a clear expression of fear, her mouth trembles but otherwise she looks perfect. Perfect Orla. You breathe through your mouth, your chest rising and falling. Your sister does the same. She takes one foot and slides it behind her. Your predatory eyes watch her intently. “$name!“ Sally yells. If he tries to grab you as your father did, you don't feel it and you don't move. Then Orla tries to run and that's what sets you off after her. She bursts into the foyer and looks around frantically, kids are pressed against the walls and hidden behind the stairs. Orla looks back at you and quickly tries to make it to the front doors but you're faster. She trips on something — perhaps her pretty ballet slippers — and falls flat on her face. You grab her by her long hair and start dragging her towards the middle of the room, she screams as she tries to claw your hand. You don't feel her nails at all. You let her go and before she scurry away you straddle her. She tries to push you off, her face streaming with tears. “GET OFF OF ME YOU FREAK!“ she cries. You strike her in the face with your fist, hearing a crack somewhere in her mouth. She heavily sobs, the blood mixes with her tears and murky water cascades down her chin. Her long hair spreads around her in sad clumps and her tiara is nowhere to be seen. You hold the knife up over both of you and look her straight in the eyes. Amidst tears she starts heaving. “Please,” she whispers. “Please,” she begs. “Please,” she asks. <<if $jealously>>\ “Not so perfect are you?” a voice that sounds like your voice but doesn't responds and you scoot back and plunge the knife clean through her thigh. <<else>>\ “Orla, Orla, please try to get aw—“ your mouth clamps shut and you scoot back and plunge the knife clean through her thigh. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 445]] </h3>

<h3>The bloodcurdling scream your sister lets out wakes you up. All sound, all feeling, all thought comes back and you don't even have time to react before Orla takes the knife from you, slicing her hands open and throwing it away. She slaps you hard and you fall to the floor. You turn to your back and look up at the ceiling through droplets of blood in your eye. “ORLA!” your mother screams in dismay and you hear heavy-heeled footsteps running toward you. You push your up slightly by your elbows and see through a hazy vision, your mother cradling your bawling sister in her arms, staining your mother's white dress. You've never seen your mother cry. She throws a venomous look at you, “what did you do to my little girl you abomination?!“ “$name!” Sally runs to your side and sits you up. He looks from you to Orla, uncertain of who to go to nor what to do. Sally puts a gentle hand on your cheek and asks, “are you here?” He's bleeding from his nose. Suddenly you're brother is wretched away from you and your father hauls you up. Practically pulling your arm from its socket he drags you up the stairs without caring that you trip over yourself. You bite your tongue from screaming in pain. He throws open the door of his study and pushes you roughly inside. Your cheek hits the hardwood floor harshly. But you quickly turn around to see your father slam the door. You get up and run to the door, twisting the doorknob and pulling. The door doesn't budge and you grit your teeth while you continue to pull until you lean too far back and land on the carpet. [[NEXT|Page 446]] </h3>

<h3>The pressure on your bladder is far too strong for you to ignore. You run up the stairs and to the bathroom. You don't even close the door all the way as you go to the toilet to relieve yourself. You hear the rings abruptly stop and then some voices but the release of your bladder demands your full attention. When you finally do finish — after forgetting to wash your hands and running back to do so — you walk to the top of the stairs and see your father bring in a red box. He calls to the maid. “Throw this out and next time the door rings and I have to do your job for you I'll throw you out into the street,” your father threatens and thrusts the box into the maid's hands. “Of course, sir. It won't happen again.” He goes back into the parlor and you follow the maid with your eyes as she opens the front door. When she steps out of the house you run down the stairs and onto the porch. You see her take the lid off the trashcan and throw the shiny box inside. She places the lid back on the trashcan and that's when you realize you need to hide. You get on your hands and knees, crawling to the corner of the porch and snuggling yourself in the crevice. The maid doesn't even look as she walks back inside, closing the door with a soft click. You have to stop yourself from crashing into the trashcan in your haste to see what's inside. You throw off the lid and grab the gift. You rip off the lid and peer inside. You frown and reach in to take out a piece of paper. You drop the rest of the box and look at the messy writing. You begin to read: //“I like a gurl who who has hair with a ice cream swurl, she is so pretty I want to hurl. She is my best fren, I think I want to defen, until worlds end.// There's a simple pencil crayon drawing of two kids holding hands. The boy has pale hair and the girl— “Ew,” you complain. You put the paper into the trash and run back into the house before your father gets mad. [[NEXT|Page 441]] </h3>

<h3> ''__October 31st__'' <<audio "hunted" stop>><<audio "halloween" loop play>>\ You fold the newspaper and shove it into your $holder. Another body. Instead of months apart it went to weeks and now days. Imre has ordered everyone to go around in pairs whenever you can. Which is fine by you since you can't help but feel you're being watched. You haven't seen Arthur around but you also haven't been on top of your game. To be fair, none of you have. Imre says you've all been reckless. Doing things out in the open. Lorcan said that if anyone with a big mouth talked only Imre would be ok. Nia said that if she goes to jail because of Imre she would castrate him. Apart from that, there's been nothing. The books make it seem like investigations are quick, that there's always something new happening every day. They don't mention that most of it is waiting. Even so, you've been busy. Sally has barely left you alone. You can't be up in your room for more than ten minutes when he's home because he'll come and knock. He still has tried to find you friends. You don't know how much he's paying these kids but nearly everyone in your grade has knocked on your front door. You've treated them with... <hr>\ * [[Distain.|Page 447][$dis to true]] * [[Indifference.|Page 447][$ind to true]] * [[Kindness.|Page 447][$kin to true]] * [[Politness.|Page 447][$pol to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $dis>>\ You answer any questions curtly. You sit there with your arms crossed and a scowl on your face. Your brother must be asking them for reports because he did a fair bit of scolding over dinner one night. He never raised his voice but he was clearly trying to hold himself back. He tried to make you promise you wouldn't see the group anymore. When you wouldn't he didn't speak to you for a day. <<elseif $ind>>\ You don't answer half the questions they ask. You space out frequently and once even fell asleep. Your brother must be asking them for reports because he did a fair bit of scolding over dinner one night. He never raised his voice but he was clearly trying to hold himself back. He tried to make you promise you wouldn't see the group anymore. When you wouldn't he didn't speak to you for a day. <<elseif $kin>>\ You answered and asked questions. You smiled. You served the tea and because you were so unused to being social it did make your guests uncomfortable and had them with excuses ready to leave early. On the plus side, your brother must be getting reports from them and he seemed particularly happy with you over dinner the other night. He didn't even make a face when Imre came to pick you up for school. <<elseif $pol>>\ You did your best to answer whatever questions they had but there was a slight unenthusiasm to you. You did your best to be accommodating and when the conversation would inevitably lull you tried to make it seem you were comfortable. Your brother must be getting reports from them and he seemed particularly happy with you over dinner the other night. He didn't even make a face when Imre came to pick you up for school. <</if>>\ A few kids in costume run past you, hitting your legs with their swinging trick-or-treat bags. You turn your head back to watch them. They're dressed in traditional garb. That is masks. Handmade ones, a thing most kids do in town. They do get the creepy factor down pat. The orange leaves crunch under your <<cycle '$shoes' autoselect>><<option 'converse.'>><<option 'running shoes.'>><<option 'flats.'>><<option 'boots.'>><</cycle>> You shake off the leaves that have fallen on your coat. As you do you see something red on the ground. You bend down and read it. “What is that?” “A piece of candy, I think,” you reply. You hand it to... <hr>\ * [[Imre.|Page 448][$imec to true]] * [[Nia.|Page 448*][$niec to true]] * [[Lorcan.|Page 448**][$loec to true]] </h3>

<h3>“Never found the allure of these,” he says as he starts unwrapping it. “In this specific candy or...?” “Candy in general,” he replies. “It's far too sweet and bad for your teeth.” He hands it back to you and you plop it in your mouth. The chocolately flavour is a good distraction from the cold. You two walk in silence for a few moments. Imre is either looking around at the scenery or waving 'hi' to whoever passes by. It's strange to you, how connected he is to the world. You, who have always sought to minimize your contact have never been more exposed as with him. He's wearing a navy blue coat with gold buttons, wool finger gloves and a burgundy scarf tied elaborately into the aforementioned buttoned coat. The leaves that fall into his curly hair — unlike you — compliment him. “I think I'm rubbing off on you,” he interrupts your thoughts. “Huh?” you ask absentmindedly. “You're observing with a critical eye, I hope the result is satisfactory,” he says. You look at the trees, “I'm just looking at things.” He laughs. “Not even on this magnificent holiday could you give me a compliment.” [[NEXT|Page 449]] </h3>

<h3>She looks at it for a second and passes it to you. “Tastes like plastic.” You start unwrapping it, “this is chocolate-flavoured you know. I thought you'd like it.” Nia shoots you a look and flicks a leaf off her shoulder, “barely. I prefer actually chocolate and not that processed piece of shit. I also like to not eat my candy off the ground.” You roll your eyes and continue chewing. You find that Nia constantly draws your attention and not because of her looks but rather what she's wearing. A snakeskin green trench coat, with leather gloves and a matching beanie. Like always no matter the weather she looks like she stepped off the runway. “I'm not overdressed, you're undressed,” she says. You try to talk with the gunk of the candy stuck to your teeth, “what the hell are you talking about?” “You're looking at me like you've never seen someone as fashionable and pretty as me,” she shrugs. You scoff, “don't you think you're too full of yourself?” She shakes her head. “Imre is too full of himself. I have an accurate description of who I am.” “And of everyone else,” you say sarcastically. [[NEXT|Page 449*]] </h3>

<h3>He looks at it, sniffs it and then unwraps it. “Cool free shit.” He bites half of it off and offers the rest to you. You take it and throw it into your mouth. “I could have cooties.” You chew for a second before responding, “how do you know I don't have cooties?” “Because no one would be crazy enough to come near you. Forget kissing you,” he says with a smile. You elbow him in the ribs and he almost trips on his perpetually untied shoelaces. You and others have told them they're undone and he acts as if he didn't hear. Maybe it's a fashion choice although you don't know why Lorcan wants to be seen as messy with his dirty boots, old beaten leather jacket and ripped jeans. He's always shivering because he refuses to wear gloves, a coat, or even a scarf. “If you can do I can,” you remark. “I gotta be hotter than you I guess,” he shrugs. “Not even you believe that,” you retort. Lorcan kicks a can that stands in his way, “cause you're just the hottest shit since Janet Jackson?” You raise your hands in surrender, “hey if my level of hotness made you think of her than I'm way hotter then I thought.” [[NEXT|Page 449**]] </h3>

<h3>You turn to him, “you're really into this Halloween stuff, aren't you?” Imre nods, “it's not just 'stuff.' I think it's the best holiday of the year.” “But, why?” <<set $Mn to true>> Imre looks at you like you've grown a third eye, “why not? What's not to love? It's a night of disguise, of subterfuge. It's thought to be influenced by All Saints' Day and All Souls Day which was a Christian celebration where one prayed for the dead's ascent to heaven.” If he was liked less he'd be called a know-it-all. But he doesn't seem smug when he tells a story like this. “Of course, most people would say it comes from pagan rituals like Samhain... oh hello,” Imre greets Lorcan and Nia. The other two peek out from the back of Nia's limousine. It's so weird seeing Nia and Lorcan in the same vicinity, by themselves you blink rapidly to see if it's a mirage. Lorcan tries to lean his head out the window but Nia shoves him back and moves herself closer to the window which makes everything turn back to normal. “He flagged me down. I tried to ignore him but he ran after the car,” she explains. “And you brake checked I almost went through the fucking window,” he says. Nia shrugs. “Where you guys headed?” you ask. “Magenta's,” Nia replies. “Shit,” Imre swears. You give him a questioning look and he returns your gaze, “I don't have a costume.” [[NEXT|Page 450]] </h3>

<h3>She has a small smile on her face, “kind of. I've basically learned that most people are pretty shallow. They want the same thing.” “Love?” <<set $Mi to true>> She gives you a mocking look, “who wants love these days? No most people want money when what they should really want is intelligence because through that you get the power to not have life fuck you over.” “That's a pretty cynical way of seeing people,” you reply. She nods, “obviously but it's not like I want to think that. I'm not a whiny emo baby like Lorcan. It's not my fault people don't give anyone hope. That's why you can't rely on anyone.” You think of biting your tongue but you blurt it before you can, “even friends?” Nia stares at you expressionless for about thirty seconds until you feel as if you're squirming. “Especially friends.” “What luck to run into you both,” Imre's voice comes by your elbow. Nia breaks eye contact with you to look at him. You do too and see him and Lorcan in Imre's car. Lorcan has an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “Where you guys headed?” you ask. “Magenta's,” Imre replies. “Good, I need a costume and Birdie does too,” Nia says. Lorcan leans back to open the lock for the door. [[NEXT|Page 450]] </h3>

<h3>He gets a wrinkle in between his eyebrows but says nothing, preferring to pout. You give him a strange look, peering closer at him. He notices and gives you an identical look. “What?” “No hateful reply? No 'you're an ugly piece of shit?'“ you pester. Lorcan lets out an exaggerated sigh, “I can only stand your voice in small doses. The more I'm around you the less I want to hear it.” //Sure//, you think.<<set $Mi to true>> You let it go and you two keep a slow pace around town, you don't know if he had anywhere to go after school, you certainly didn't. And so you go walk in neighborhoods that appear and disappear here and there. Old buildings with crumbling concrete, Lorcan kicks cans down the street. It's almost peaceful. At least the most peace you've had in weeks. You see a familiar car come down the street and slow to a stop next to you. Nia looks at you as she rolls down the window of Imre's car. “I'm glad I found you two together,” Imre says kindly. “You fucking told us to do that,” Lorcan replies. “Either way, it's fortunate because I figured if I didn't have a costume neither do you,” he asserts. “Where you guys headed?” you ask. “Magenta's,” Nia replies. Lorcan groans. [[NEXT|Page 450]] </h3>

<h3>When the town was first founded it was hard to know where its otherwordly boundaries ended. It was hard to know when it began. Its said that Josiah had done expeditions with the first men who came here. After his eldest daughter died — or was killed — he ceased all ventures into the occult. In some retellings it was a son, the records are by their nature contradictory as Josiah never left a written record of his life as far as anyone knows. Many did try to see if the supernatural extended into the surrounding woodlands outside the little island that makes the town. They tried following the long lonely road that takes one to Winchester if you take a left and takes one to the jagged blue mountains if you take a right. In seventh grade, you went to those mountains on a school trip. You don't remember what your teacher called them... something starting with a C? It's notable because some of your classmates swore they saw a yeti. It wasn't until the 70s that the town government got more of an idea. Thanks to Magenta. Every October, an old purplish Victorian-style home appears across the town entrance, on the other side of the road. Every year more rundown and on schedule by November 1st it's gone. Magenta said that she lives in southern California and all of a sudden she looked out the window instead of seeing palm trees and clear skies she was greeted with dense trees and gray clouds. She took it in stride, it was just a thing that happened. A rich widow with an old house, she had many clothes left over from Christmases, Halloweens, birthdays and renaissance parties to give away. All you had to do was bring her food and please don't ask for masks, she goes into a fit even though she is reminded each year that children make their own. <<if $Mi>>Imre parks behind a dingy old beetle and Nia hands him a pink box of iced cupcakes.<<elseif $Mn>>Nia parks behind a dingy old beetle and Imre hands her a tupperware with a vanilla cake inside it.<</if>> [[NEXT|Page 452]] </h3>

<h3>“I can't believe you forgot to buy a costume,” Nia says for the tenth time. Imre clenches his jaw and rings the doorbell, “I've been busy. You don't have one either, dear.” “But that's me, I don't take this holiday as seriously as you do. You're the one hosting the party,” she points out. He smiles at her and leans in, “are you trying to be a bitch today?” Nia smirks and elbows him. The doorbell sounds like a gong, which given how old Magenta is is probably for the best. You cover your ears as the booms keep going for the next 15 seconds before an old short woman opens the door. She takes her glasses off her fluffy white hair and squints as she registers each of your faces. “Ah, Imre my dear boy, I thought you weren't coming this year,” she says happily and goes over to give him a hug. Imre has to crouch down considerably to make it work. “I've been a little scatterbrained lately,” he explains as he stands up straight. “And you brought friends! How nice!“ she exclaims as she does a once over again. “You,” she points a veiny finger at Nia, “I think I've seen you before.” Nia nods with a faint smile. “But you two,” she points two fingers at you and Lorcan, “I have never seen before.” “I've been making new friends Maggie,” Imre responds. <<if $tname>>“Hello, I'm $tname,” you greet.<<else>>“Hello, I'm $name,” you greet.<</if>> She looks you up and down, “that name sounds familiar.” “Yeah you could say I'm kind of well-known,” you shrug. <<if $Mi>>Lorcan just chews on his fingernail. After handing Magenta her food, which Imre gets another hug for, you're let inside.<<elseif $Mn>>Lorcan just chews on his fingernail. After handing Magenta her food, which Nia successfully dodges a hug for, you're let inside.<</if>> [[NEXT|Page 453]] </h3>

<h3>To call the inside of Magenta's house messy would be an understatement. Costumes reside in ripped boxes, fabric dangles from them or spills onto the dusty carpet. If the boxes were ever marked to show what kind of costumes they contained they've been faded away for a long time. Cobwebs adorn many open boxes, and when you dissolve them you can see small little holes in the satins, polyester, cotton, linen or lace. Lorcan starts sneezing a lot as each movement sends up a cloud of dust. You wipe your eyes constantly. Magenta sits in an old rocking chair and silently eats contently. “Could you stop sneezing?” Nia asks irritated. “You're the fucking doctor obviously you know I CAN'T,” Lorcan says before another big sneeze. Nia huffs and rummages in her purse until she finds a kleenex. “Thanks,” he says as he blows his nose. “Just don't sneeze on me, I hate getting sick,” she says. “You should see her, I've never seen a more hateful person,” Imre chimes in as he holds up a black robe. “I'm only hateful if I'm fussed over,” she says. <hr> * [[Chime in.|Page 454]] * [[Just watch.|Page 454*]] </h3>

<h3>As you're driven out of town, you try to think of what the hell you're going to do. First of all, you need a costume. Second of all you need to accept the fact that you are going to a house party. Not just any house party, but the biggest event of the year held at the house of the prince of the town. You've tried to ignore these two facts for three days. It's impressive how good you can be at repressing issues until it's too late. You can't really do much about the second one. At least you can choose a costume. Perhaps just go as yourself? As if it would make it any easier to stick out more than you do by being the only one not in costume. As if Imre would hear of it. Nia might chime in too. Lorcan would bully you about it just to be contrarian. <hr>\ * [[See costumes of supernatural subjects.|Costume side note]] * [[See costumes of historical contexts.|Costume side note 2]] * [[See costumes of pop culture.|Costume side note 3]] * [[See costumes of professions.|Costume side note 4]] </h3>

<h3>If you could choose, what would you be? <hr>\ * [[A witch.|Page 451][$cwit to true]] * [[A ghost.|Page 451]] * [[A werewolf.|Page 451][$cwolf to true]] * [[A fae.|Page 451][$cfae to true]] * [[A dragon.|Page 451]] * [[A vampire.|Page 451][$cvamp to true]] * [[See costumes of historical contexts.|Costume side note 2]] * [[See costumes of pop culture.|Costume side note 3]] * [[See costumes of professions.|Costume side note 4]] </h3>

<h3>If you could choose, what would you be? <hr>\ * [[A monarch.|Page 451]] * [[A prince/princess.|Page 451][$cpri to true]] * [[A jester.|Page 451]] * [[A knight.|Page 451][$ckni to true]] * [[A black plague doctor.|Page 451][$cbla to true]] * [[A viking.|Page 451]] * [[A caveman/woman.|Page 451]] * [[See costumes of supernatural subjects.|Costume side note]] * [[See costumes of pop culture.|Costume side note 3]] * [[See costumes of professions.|Costume side note 4]] </h3>

<h3>If you could choose, what would you be? <hr>\ * [[Kurt Cobain.|Page 451]] * [[A lion.|Page 451][$clio to true]] * [[A serial killer.|Page 451][$cser to true]] * [[A teenage time traveler.|Page 451]] * [[A crew member of a space ship.|Page 451][$ccrew to true]] * [[A hitman wearing a suit.|Page 451]] * [[See costumes of supernatural subjects.|Costume side note]] * [[See costumes of historical contexts.|Costume side note 2]] * [[See costumes of professions.|Costume side note 4]] </h3>

<h3>If you could choose, what would you be? <hr>\ * [[A doctor.|Page 451][$cdoc to true]] * [[An archaeologist.|Page 451][$carc to true]] * [[A musician.|Page 451][$cmus to true]] * [[An athlete.|Page 451]] * [[A pilot.|Page 451]] * [[A moviestar.|Page 451]] ==wink wink== * [[A gangster.|Page 451]] ==wink wink== * [[See costumes of supernatural subjects.|Costume side note]] * [[See costumes of historical contexts.|Costume side note 2]] * [[See costumes of pop culture.|Costume side note 3]] </h3>

<h3>All four of you decide to pile the intact costumes in the middle of the room and do your best to dust them off and check for bugs. Once in and while one of you finds one that would look good on the other three and it is either a solid recommendation or a joke like when Lorcan throws a pair of comically large glasses, a bowtie and suspenders at Imre or when Nia throws an orange jumpsuit at Lorcan. Given how late you started looking at the tail end of three hours you find less than fifty viable costumes. Majority of them are missing accessories and feel oddly itchy even though they were thoroughly checked for bugs. Nia takes charge and manages to create thirteen costume ideas. “We got witches, werewolves, faes, vamps, knights, plague doctors, princes and princesses, lions, serial killers, some futuristic space members, normal doctors, archaeologists, and rockstars,” she declares. <<if $cwit>>You smile as you grab the witch costume.<<elseif $cwolf>>You smile as you grab the werewolf costume.<<elseif $cfae>>>You smile as you grab the fae costume.<<elseif $cvamp>>>You smile as you grab the vampire costume.<<elseif $cpri>>>You smile as you grab the crown.<<elseif $ckni>>>You smile as you grab the plate of armour.<<elseif $cbla>>>You smile as you grab the plague mask.<<elseif $clio>>>You smile as you grab the mane.<<elseif $cser>>>You smile as you grab the knife.<<elseif $ccrew>>>You smile as you grab the bright uniform shirt with the sigil.<<elseif $cdo>>>You smile as you grab the stetscope. Nia's lips twitch.<<elseif $carc>>>You smile as you grab the hat. Imre admires how it looks on you.<<elseif $cmus>>>You smile as you grab the leather jacket. Lorcan blinks rapidly and looks away.<</if>>\ “I think if we want to look put together we should choose one common costume and take things for the rest of the pile to complete it,” Imre says. “So what dress the same?” Lorcan sniffs. “Similar,” Imre corrects. “I think we need a morale boost, and what says unity more than complimentary costumes?” “I would rather not dress like any of you,” Nia says. “But... none of the choices are //that// bad I guess.” “If people start getting emotional I'm fucking off,” Lorcan adds. Imre smiles, “we'll leave the group hug for later. But we are in this together, for however long it lasts. It wouldn't hurt to get along.” “It might hurt some of us,” you say in a low voice that only Imre seems to hear from the way his eyes briefly flicker to yours. He looks at Nia, “since you gave us the options, you should decide.” Nia crosses her arms, “Imre Duran letting someone else choose? Is that a Halloween miracle?” She looks down at the pile and then shrugs a shoulder, “I don't really care. Birdie can pick.” “Ya'll never let me pick,” Lorcan grumbles behind the kleenex. <hr>\ * [[“Witches.”|Page 456][$witches to true]] * [[“Werewolves.”|Page 456][$werewolves to true]] * [[“Fae.”|Page 456][$fae to true]] * [[“Vampires.”|Page 456][$vampires to true]] * [[“Knights.”|Page 456][$knights to true]] * [[“Plague doctors.”|Page 456][$plaguedocs to true]] * [[“Lions.”|Page 456][$lions to true]] * [[“Serial killers.”|Page 456][$serial to true]] * [[“Space crew members.”|Page 456][$space to true]] * [[“Doctors.”|Page 456][$doctors to true]] * [[“Archaeologists.”|Page 456][$arch to true]] * [[“Musicians.”|Page 456][$musicians to true]] </h3>

<h3>After, when you all have to wait for Magenta to finish wrapping the costumes on her insistence you slip outside and go to the car. You look at the car plate for the old beetle, SL0W FUC. You look at your watch and sigh. Tonight is a looming monster and you feel your annoyance spread along with other unpleasant feelings. You feel as if you'll just be a spectacle. <<audio "halloween" stop>>\ <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You're itching for a cigarette. You pull your carton out of your pocket. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>\ You want to pop at least one, the urge is nearly overwhelming. You pull your bottle out of your pocket. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ You want to take a quick gulp of your flask. You pull it out of your pocket. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ You feel your hand flex, it's not healed from the last time. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ You want to close your eyes and drift away. <</if>> <<if $imec>>\ “There you are,” Imre says from the porch and walks towards you. “Why did you leave?” “I'm just... I needed fresh air,” you reply. He leans on the car, right next to you and looks intently. “What?” “It'll be fine. Things aren't as scary as we imagine them to be,” he says softly. “It's easy for you to say. Everyone loves you,” you reply. Imre smiles. “If only.” <<elseif $niec>>\ The front door opens and Nia comes out. She sees you and makes her way to where you are. She leans against the car. “Did you come out here to cope?” “Cope?” Nia raises a critical eyebrow, “don't play dumb. Imre told me about your new hobby. He says it looks like it calms you down.” You shrug. “We all got our things. Don't you?” Nia looks at her hands, “I used to.” <<elseif $loec>>\ “Oh shit,” Lorcan says when he sees you. “Scared the crap outta me.” He sticks a cigarette into his mouth and leans against the car, making sure there's room between you. He lights his cigarette and says, “so we're gonna have a shitty night, huh?” “We?” you ask. Lorcan sucks in for a few seconds and blows out, “get over yourself, Crowny.” “Everyone fucking hates me too,” he says bitterly. <</if>> [[NEXT|Page 457]] </h3>

<h3>//Later...// You move back and extend your arms above you. You lift a leg but you can barely manage to see anything before you almost topple over. Maybe you shouldn't have thrown out your mirror? <<if $witches>>\ There's a lot of velvet in this costume. It's a bit tight and dramatic for one such as you. The pointed hat does oddly fight your face. All in all, you don't make a bad witch. <<elseif $werewolves>>\ There's not much to the outfit. There's a hairy hat with ears that you velcro under your chin. And a red flannel shirt. You got some plastic claws from the dollar store. If people don't get it you can say you're a bear. <<elseif $fae>>\ Plastic ears held together by a hair band. Iridescent wings and a vest made out of faux leaves. You found some dark brown pants to go along. You look more like Peter Pan but it's something. <<elseif $vampires>>\ You can't close your mouth with these fangs but the cape is long and flowy. You applied some ketchup to your white button-down and slicked back your hair. Not scary nor sexy but at least people will know what you are. <<elseif $knights>>\ The plate armour made from styrofoam and chainmail made from plastic look like shoddy work together. The fake sword is not any better. But at least you look like you're supposed to. <<elseif $plaguedocs>>\ The costume is missing parts. Namely, the hat and the baklava but it has the 'peak' and you got a nondescript black robe to go with it. You stole a black cap from Percy. <<elseif $lions>>\ You got the mane. You had to pick out the cobwebs and dead flies. You combed it too. It came with furry paws that are more matted than they are clean. You had to take some brighter-colored clothing from the attic. <<elseif $serial>>\ You got a plastic butcher knife, stained your hands with fake blood as well as your shirt and then just wore some basic clothes. They do say that serial killers look like everyone else. <<elseif $space>>\ The shirt is tight, it makes your shoulders ache with the strain. You tried to wash out a stain it has to little avail. To make it look more retro-futuristic you tried to imitate some 60s hairstyles. It kind of works. <<elseif $doctors>>\ It didn't come with scrubs so you found a shirt that's blueish and a pair of pants that are more teal. Even though that's subpar the coat and the stetscope pull the look together. Nia will probably think you look funny. <<elseif $arch>>\ The hat has a hole in it so you twist it so it's not at the front. It came with a fake whip that still managed to hurt when you accidentally whipped yourself. You found a green button-down and some boots. Imre will look down at you for how bad it looks. <<elseif $musicians>>\ You put on some messy eyeliner, ruffled up your hair and wore all black. It works and you kind of look good. It's easier when you have most of the shit you need. Lorcan will either laugh or accuse you of copying him. <</if>>\ You breathe in and out. Ok. At least you'll know people there. Everyone will be too drunk to care about you. It's not like you're that important.... right? You check your watch. Imre said it started at 8:30 and it's 7:37. Do you go now? Is it bad if you walk and arrive late? Do you drive there and arrive early to scope it out? Will you not be allowed in after 8:30? But if you get there later people will notice— what if you wait outside? What if you wait for Nia or Lorcan? What if- “Fuck me,” you whisper and close your eyes. You lean your forehead down against the sink and let the cool ceramic wash over you. You don't need another migraine tonight. You look up, the top of your head and the skin just beneath your eyes being the only thing visible. You look //exhausted//. “I've been through worse,” you say to yourself and get stand up. [[NEXT|Page 458]] </h3>

<h3>You're just walking to the stairs when you hear a muffled voice. You look at the door of your father's office. You check your watch again. Sally? It's so early. Certain words are almost distinguisable but the heavy door doesn't let you figure out any. <<if $tname>>\ “$name– $tname,” you think you hear. <<else>>\ “$name,” you think you hear. <</if>>\ You take a step towards the door but you hear the familiar sounds of your brother's footsteps. You look around and grab the door handle to Orla's room, thinking of running in and hiding. But you hesistate and that's when Sally comes out of the office. He doesn't look around before quickly walking down the stairs. You wait until you hear the front door close before moving. You quietly shut the door behind you and walk to the private telephone your father keeps. You lift up the headset and press the redial button. You hear the phone barely ring once before someone picks up the line. “Yea?” You hang up the phone and walk out of the office. You shut the door behind you right when the front door opens. You go to the foot of the stairs and see Sally walking back inside, reading a newspaper. He suddenly looks up and sees you there staring at him. He smiles, “hey, I got done work early today. Maybe we could do some-“ He stops walking when he sees what you're wearing. [[NEXT|Page 459]] </h3>

<h3>“Why are you dressed up?” he asks. You put your hand on the railing, “it's Halloween.” “But you don't dress up,” he says flatly. “Yeah but right now I am,” you say. He tucks the newspaper under his arm, “and why?” <hr>\ * [[Tell him the truth.|Page 460]] * [[Tell him a lie.|Page 460*]] * [[Ask him who he was talking to?|Page 460**]] </h3>

<h3>You shrug. “I'm going to a party.” Sally makes a 'hmph' sound and unfolds the newspaper. He holds the front page up to you and you see the same story you were reading earlier. “Did you see this?” “Sally,” you sigh. “No, did you see this?” he asks with a bit more bite to his words. “Yeah, I did.” Sally almost sneers at you, “and you think it's a good idea to just go out and party as if nothing is going on?” “When I came back you didn't seem to care so much about this,” you remark. “Well clearly I have to since you're being an immature thoughtless-,” Sally cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks back up at you, “I don't need to ask whose party it is. Obviously, I can't stop you since you clearly don't care about what I think nor value what I know is good because of the experience I have and you don't.” You stand at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what to do. Sally seems to look down and whispers something. “Have I kept you from the world?” “Did you say something?” “Just go.” You hurry down the stairs, your eyes on the front door. You pass your brother and he shoots out his hand to grip your wrist. You stop and look. Sally turns to you and says, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just worried.” “There are monsters out there,” he says firmly. You look up to the second floor. “At least have someone drive you there, it's dark out,” he advises. “Arthur maybe?” <hr>\ * [[Go with Arthur.|Page 461]] * [[You had already called Imre.|Page 461*]] </h3>

<h3>You shrug. “I want to trick or treat.” Sally's lips quiver, “trick or treat?” You give him a quizzical look, “what's with that face?” Sally breaks out into a full smile. “you've never liked it.” You make a face, “that's not true.” You start making your way down the stairs. “You seemed to look miserable every time Nia would take you out. Most years you didn't even dress up,” he says with a chuckle. “Yeah well I wanna socialize and stuff,” you say awkwardly. “Did you say something?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“And stuff,” he echoes with a raised eyebrow although his expression is still happy. “Is this the teenage thing where the teen lies to the parent and actually she's going to go see a boy?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“And stuff,” he echoes with a raised eyebrow although his expression is still happy. “Is this the teenage thing where the teen lies to the parent and actually he's going to go see a girl?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“And stuff,” he echoes with a raised eyebrow although his expression is still happy. “Is this the teenage thing where the teen lies to the parent and actually they're going to go see a girl or boy? I'm not sure.” He gestures to you.<</if>>\ You permit yourself a sly smile, “if it was would you be proud that I'm finally being a real teenager?” “If only you were interested in people that were good for you,” he says, his smile dimming while yours falls. “Sally we've talked about this-“ “I know, I know,” he raises his hands which is awkward with the newspaper still under his arm. “Let's not fight tonight.” He looks you up and down. He seems to have a thoughtful look in his eyes. “We haven't been close lately, have we?” You pause, “I guess not.” He nods, a melancholic expression forms on his face, “it used to be so much easier when we were kids. You would fall asleep near me so I would carry you upstairs and each time I tucked you in you would wake up and refuse to let me leave.” You don't know what to say about something you don't remember. Especially when Sally gets so nostalgic. “When did it all change?” he says softly. He sees you watching him with a puzzled face and he just clears his throat and smiles. “I hope you have fun and get lots of candy.” “Thanks,” you say and start walking past him. His arm shoots out and blocks your way. You look at him. “But it's dark out. You have to go with someone,” he begins and as he sees you're about to protest he continues, “or at the very least have someone drop you off in Main Street.” <hr>\ * [[Go with Arthur.|Page 461]] * [[You had already called Imre.|Page 461*]] </h3>

<h3>“Who were you talking to?” Sally looks surprised at your question, obviously expecting something else to come out of your mouth. “What are you talking about?” he asks. You thrust your thumb behind you, “in there. In your office. Who were you just talking to?” Sally's eyebrows press together, “I always talk to people in the office. Why do you care about it now?” //He's good at deflecting isn't he?// If you say that you're interested he'll know you eavesdropped and he'll grow suspicious. If you confront him with the fact that you know who he was talking to about you he could get angry and lose trust in you more than he already is. You shrug and start walking down the stairs, “I don't know the walls are pretty thin and you were talking kind of loud. I was just wondering.” Sally just watches as you reach the ground floor. He sets the newspaper down on one of the steps. “Yeah it was about work. I get so stressed with these people that I forget how loud I can be,” he then smiles. “Sorry for worrying you,” he adds with such sincerity it doesn't seem as feigh as everything else he said. <hr>\ * [[Manipulate him.|Page 461-M]] * [[Try to be nice.|Page 461-N]] * [[Leave it at that.|Page 461-L]] </h3>

<h3>Hmmm. You don't know what to make of seeing Arthur creep around you and the group. It could be a coincidence. But it doesn't feel like it. You wait outside under the protection of the porch. The cool wind ruffles your costume around. You can feel the electricity in the air. It's going to rain tonight. Arthur arrives fairly quickly after your brother calls him. The car has its full beams on which aren't nullified by the encroaching fog. You climb into the backseat and Arthur adjusts his mirror to capture your face. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Hello, Miss Crown. How have you been lately?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Hello, Mister Crown. How have you been lately?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Hello, Mx Crown. How have you been lately?”<</if>> “I've been fine, Arthur,” you answer simply. //He would know//. You can see the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes, “that's good to hear. I bet Mister Salvatore is happy about that.” “Something like that,” you reply. <<set $arthurdrive to true>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>If Arthur registers anything odd about your tone he doesn't mention it. “Where to, Miss?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>If Arthur registers anything odd about your tone he doesn't mention it. “Where to, Mister?”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>If Arthur registers anything odd about your tone he doesn't mention it. “Where to, Mx?”<</if>> “The Duran Mansion,” you instruct. [[NEXT|Page 462]] </h3>

<h3>Well, Imre adjacent. He's too busy getting everything ready so he sent one of his many drivers to pick you up. You don't know how long the party is going for nor how long the drivers' shifts are so you might have to walk home or find a corner in that big house to sleep in. You wait outside under the protection of the porch. The cool wind ruffles your costume around. You can feel the electricity in the air. It's going to rain tonight. Headlights penetrate the encroaching fog long before you see the limousine itself. A man in attire steps out and opens the door for you. You climb in and once he's in the driver's seat he says, “el niño Imre requests that you call him.” “How am I supposed to do that?” you ask. The driver holds up a headset, you can't see where the rest of the telephone is in the dark of the car but you hesitantly take it and the man presses a button. The phone rings for over a minute while the driver starts backing up and heading down the path. Once the car reaches the road the other end picks up. “Imre, speaking,” he says. <<set $imredrive to true>> “You wanted me to call you?” “Oh, hello. Yes, I did. I wanted to ask you about that driver of yours,” he says. “Did you? Why's that?” The driver presses a button and a black screen starts going in between the backseats and the front. You flinch back, unsure of what is happening until it stops moving. You lean in and touch the cool glass with your finger. “I would appreciate it if you listened instead of touching that,” Imre's voice says through static. [[NEXT|Page 462*]] </h3>

<h3>You smile kindly and grip his arm, “come on Sally. I get really worried about you.” You feel the tension slightly lessen in his arm and he replies, “I know you do. Thanks so much. But I'm really ok. It was boring business stuff.” You feel like you want to scowl. He thinks you're keeping secrets and lying, does he? Pot and kettle. You're smile stretches wider, “can I at least know? It would calm me down if I knew that whoever you were talking to wasn't dangerous?” Sally sighs and gives you a kiss on the forehead. When he moves back he asks, “aren't I the one who's supposed to be worried over you?” //Jesus Christ this guy can dodge a question.// You try to contort your face into one of sadness, and you think it works because his smile disappears as soon as he sees it. “Sally,” you say in a gentle almost childlike voice, “I'm scared. I'm scared that all the problems in the business could get you hurt. These people can be dangerous when they lose money.” Sally places a hand on your shoulder, “I promise I'm ok. Nothing is wrong. Things are actually getting better, it's slow but I think we can finally leave the spaghetti.” You press your teeth together. Damn it. He won't tell you. If he's evasive now what would he be like if you told him you know he was talking to Lorcan? The same Lorcan that until now you didn't realize how weird they are with each other. The welcoming party, the movies. Those strange looks. “... because it's late.” You snap out of your thoughts, “huh?” Sally snorts, “daydreaming? I said that you should get someone to drive you to wherever you're going since it's dark outside.” <hr>\ * [[Go with Arthur.|Page 461]] * [[You had already called Imre.|Page 461*]] </h3>

<h3>Feeling deflated and wanting to conserve energy for the upcoming party you decide it's best to let this be. It's not like you don't know who he was talking to. But does it matter? Not enough to ask. “... because it's late.” You snap out of your thoughts, “huh?” Sally chuckles, “daydreaming? I said that you should get someone to drive you to wherever you're going since it's dark outside.” <hr>\ * [[Go with Arthur.|Page 461]] * [[You had already called Imre.|Page 461*]] </h3>

<h3>You smile warmly and you say, “I want you to trust me.” Sally returns your smile with even more warmth, “I do. We can have our disagreements but I trust you. Just as much as I hope you trust me?” You nod fervently, “I do trust you. But I just mean that I'm old enough to know about the family business.” Sally places his hands on your shoulders, “sweetie, you're still in school you have plenty of time to learn about this stuff later.” “But didn't you start learning about it when you were my age, probably even earlier,” you insist slightly. He chuckles, “why so eager? You never seemed interested before?” You shrug. “Because it's the family business and it affects all of us. Also because I don't want you to feel alone. You're always there to hear me talk. I could do the same for you.” Sally's eyes shine so bright as the words spill from your mouth that you think he might start to cry which you wouldn't know how to deal with. He blinks quickly and his grip lessens, “Thanks. But I'm the older brother and it's me that needs to be taking care and listening to you.” This moment should feel nice but because all he's done is deflect from answering you it feels hollow. Are the words he means real? Are yours? Is it real even though you had a specific goal in mind: to get Sally to admit he was talking to Lorcan? How weird. Thinking of him and Lorcan made you see something you'd ignored before. How strange they are when they're around each other. You saw it at the welcoming party and at the the movies. It's like they were talking with their eyes. But Sally won't tell you. You're being so lovely and he won't budge. If only you had Imre's magic. Although, you have some skills but they don't seem to be working on your brother. “... because it's late.” You snap out of your thoughts, “huh?” Sally chuckles, “daydreaming? I said that you should get someone to drive you to wherever you're going since it's dark outside.” <hr>\ * [[Go with Arthur.|Page 461]] * [[You had already called Imre.|Page 461*]] </h3>

<h3>You see a flash of surprise in his eyes. “That's strange. I don't think I've ever taken you there.” “I was invited to a party,” you answer. Arthur nods in understanding, “well it's a night for that isn't it? I heard that Mister Imre's Halloween parties are what's hip for the teens these days.” You make a face. He starts humming and that gives you time to think about what you're going to do. You have to get something, anything. It could be Sally who put him up to this as an extreme form of parental care but you have to be sure. So, how do you approach this? <hr>\ * [[Act nice.|Page 463][$niceH to true]] * [[Threaten him.|Page 463][$meanH to true]] * [[Just let him talk.|Page 463][$coolH to true]] </h3>

<h3>You jerk your finger back. “Uh, how do you know what I'm doing?” You hear a laugh at the end of the line. “I'm not a mind-reader I promise. We have cameras in the limousines.” You look around trying to find it. “You won't find it, it's dark in there.” “But why?” “Father values efficiency,” he explains. You lay back into the soft seat and ask, “what about Arthur?” “I might've been mistaken but I think I saw him driving up the front of the street of the mansion a couple of times tonight,” he says. That makes you sit up. “How do you know it was him?” “Cameras,” he replies simply. “Your cameras can't be //that// great,” you assert. He laughs again, “I ran the license plate.” “I'm guessing in a totally legal way,” you sarcasm. “For me, yes.” “Alright, let's hear the theory,” you sigh. “I think someone put your driver up to it. I think given what you've said about your brother disapproving of your relation to me and the others I think he ordered him to,” he claims. “Just to protect me, you think?” “Could be. Or maybe your brother has a vested interest in the work we're doing,” he suggests. “What do you think?” <hr>\ * [[Be honest.|Page 463*][$niceH to true]] * [[Be deceitful.|Page 463*][$meanH to true]] * [[Be noncomittal.|Page 463*][$coolH to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niceH>>\ “So... I realized that you always ask me about what I'm doing and I never ask you,” you say. Arthur looks at you in the mirror, “oh that's not a problem. I don't mind, I have nothing interesting to say about my days anyway.” You lean forward, setting your elbows on the seats in front of you, “that's what you think. My life is pretty boring too and you listen.” Arthur just smiles at that. “Anywayyyyyyy, what do you do all the time? Do you just drive around when no one needs the car? Do you go hang out somewhere?” “I just do things M-“ “Please,” you interrupt, “you don't need to be so formal with me.” Arthur gives you a quick look of uncertainty and looks back to the road. “Um, as I was saying. I just do things. I work and then I drive around, our town is actually very pretty when you stop and look.” “Yeah, it is,” you agree. You lean in more. “But like do you ever hang out in places like the Lodge?” Arthur laughs at that, “that place? I think they have horrible coffee. I go to the convenience store, it's cheap and they don't water it down.” //So then why were you there?// “Do you ever see me walking around?” you inquire. “Oh, yes! All the time. You and your friends are a busy group,” he replies. You don't note a change in his tone. Chipper as always. “Do you stop and check up on me?” you ask innocently. He pauses before answering. “Well... yes. It's what your brother and your parents would want. It's becoming dangerous around the town.” It's not an exact confirmation but it's the only thing that makes sense. He wouldn't do this if someone hadn't told him. Obviously, it wasn't your parents. You sit back and reply, “you're right about that.” <<elseif $meanH>>\ You lean forward and lay your arms on the front seats, you turn to Arthur, very near his face and he seems to stiffen. He side-eyes you and nervously looks back at the road. “Arthur?” “Yes?” he asks in a higher pitch while trying to move his face away from yours. “Do you actually do anything?” you ask judgementally. “Uh M-“ “No don't give me that shit,” you interject, “none of that innocent older geezer bullshit. Do you actually do anything because from what I've seen you're never there to take me anywhere and my brothers prefer to drive, most of our staff is gone so really what the fuck do you ''do''?” Arthur's eyes got progressively more wide as you kept talking. Now he looks like he's been frightened to death. “W-well I-I,” he tries to speak. “W-well I-I-I,” you mimic, “speak. I can't hear you.” Arthur clears his throat and says, “the car is very old. It can't sit idle for too long, I just take it out for a ride nothing more.” You snort. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” The cords in Arthur's neck tighten. You chuckle and say, “so either you're a sad sack of shit who is being paid to take a car that doesn't belong to you for a spin or you spend your time spying on me.” Arthur jerks his eyes to yours and looks like he's about to start babbling so you beat him to it, “look. I don't know who put you up to this. But I don't like being spied on especially not by an old creep. So you tell whoever gave you the orders that I know and I better not see you doing that again or...” You lean back and smile, “you do know my reputation right? What people say I'm capable of. Well fuck with me again and you'll find out.” He doesn't deny it. He doesn't even try to apologize or grovel. He just nods stiffly and starts speeding. For some reason, you want to smile. <<elseif $coolH>>\ You just sit back, relax and let Arthur's natural talkativeness take hold. “I'm sorry I haven't been around much to take you to school or to hang out with your friends. I've just been doing some work,” he explains. He looks at you in the mirror and you make a random harmless noise. He seems to smile and continues, “it's been tough for Mr. Salvatore. The issue with Mr. Crown and the pressures of the business associates.” //Issue with Father?// You want to ask about that but you bite your tongue. “He's very young. Mr. Crown was around the same age when he took over from the late Mr. Crown senior but it was easier in the 70s. This day and age,” he sighs, “what is the world coming to?” You shrug. “What with all these environmental protestors. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to because people need work and they need money,” he continues. You nod. “Glad you agree! I always knew you had a head on your shoulders,” he says. “So I try to help Mr. Salvatore with mail, finding cheaper servants for the house, watching over you.” You feel a sense of triumph. You knew Sally was likely behind it but it's nice to know you were right. Arthur doesn't seem to have noticed he slipped up or perhaps he thinks you're too dumb to have realized he was tailing you as he keeps blabbing on. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 464]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niceH>>\ “I had a suspicion,” you begin. “And?” Even though there's a screen separating you from the driver you still turn your face away towards the window. “I saw him before, I thought it was weird but he was driving slowly. It just looked off.” “Why didn't you say anything?” You shrug and remember you're on a telephone. “I don't know. I thought maybe it wasn't bad. Maybe he just wanted to keep an eye out for me to see if I was ok.” “Do you think your chauffeur is kind?” he asks abruptly. Your eyebrows raise, you've never considered anything about Arthur if you're being honest. He's always been there. Like a reliable chair. Lorcan would hate you for that thought. “I guess. He's never not had a smile for me,” you reply. “You don't need to be kind for that. I would say he's nice which is more deceitful than you think,” Imre says. “Know from experience?” you quip. You feel the smile in his answer, “I'm kind.” <<elseif $meanH>>\ “I don't know Imre, maybe you're thinking too hard about this,” you say. “In the times we're in I would say thinking intrinsically about anything is a sure way for survival,” he replies. “I guess but not everyone has ulterior motives. Sometimes it's what it seems,” you say. “Occam's razor is rather boring,” he replies. “So you really don't think it's possible? You haven't noticed anything off about him in all the time you've known him?” You switch the headset to your other ear, “don't tell Lorcan I said this because he's a champion for the working class but I don't spend much time thinking about servants.” Imre chuckles, “in spite of the financial troubles, you do have the heart of a bourgeoise.” You lift an eyebrow, “how much do you know about my family's financial issues?” “As I said. It serves to be analytical and frankly, it's not a secret from anyone. Enough about that, I just want you to consider what I said about Arthur, keep an eye out,” he says and hangs up. You lay the phone down on your lap and look at the trees. You don't know how much he believed you. Why did you lie? To not give him the benefit? To protect Sally? To convince yourself it's not a big deal? You don't even know. <<elseif $coolH>>\ You don't reply and he asks, “is everything all right?” “Yes, it's fine. I'm just thinking about what you said.” “Ok, do you need more time to think?” You sigh, “look, Imre. We have a lot going on. I don't want to waste brain power. If you think this is true then go for it. It doesn't matter what I think nor do I care much about Arthur.” “You're an oddly uncurious person at times,” he says and you hear the clear disapproval in his voice. You roll your eyes and say, “and you think far too much sometimes.” “No such thing,” he replies and hangs up. <</if>> [[NEXT|Page 464]] </h3>

<h3><<if $arthurdrive>>\ The Duran mansion is the most well-known and the biggest house in town and that is saying something with Nia's house being as a big as it is. Arthur drives up to the black steel gate and lowers his window to greet the guard who manually opens it. Arthur waves him off and slowly starts driving down the masonic straight path to the front of the house. On all sides there are perfectly spaced trees that act as arches over the path. Each tree trunk has a sneering painted pumpkin on it. The pathway itself is luminated by small flickering candles. The pace at which Arthur is driving allows you time to really take in the house. You roll down the window and stick your head out, letting the cold hit you. Grandoise is an apt word for what you see. Built with red brick it has two opposing stairs that lead to a patio that is big enough to hold events under the moonlight. It leads to a long columned porch, at that top lies a balcony. The house is three floors but what's impressive is how long these floors are. The first two must be more than 100 feet and the third is is about half. You count at least 15 windows and you wonder how many more are on the sides of the house and behind. Long chimes sit at the the roof bollowing out thick smoke. You lean back and roll the windows up as Arthur rolls to a stop near the stairs. He turns around in his seat, “when do you want me to p-“ “It's fine I got that handled,” you say as you push the door open to step out into the cold October air. “Oh ok! Have a good-” you slam the door before you can hear the end of the sentence, your mind occupied by the enormity of the house and the upcoming party. <<else>>\ The Duran mansion is the most well-known and the biggest house in town and that is saying something with Nia's house being as a big as it is. The driver drives up to the black steel gate and the guard manually opens it. The driver slowly starts driving down the masonic straight path to the front of the house. On all sides there are perfectly spaced trees that act as arches over the path. Each tree trunk has a sneering painted pumpkin on it. The pathway itself is luminated by small flickering candles. The pace at which the driver is driving allows you time to really take in the house. You roll down the window and stick your head out, letting the cold hit you. Grandoise is an apt word for what you see. Built with red brick it has two opposing stairs that lead to a patio that is big enough to hold events under the moonlight. It leads to a long columned porch, at that top lies a balcony. The house is three floors but what's impressive is how long these floors are. The first two must be more than 100 feet and the third is is about half. You count at least 15 windows and you wonder how many more are on the sides of the house and behind. Long chimes sit at the the roof bollowing out thick smoke. You lean back and roll the windows up as the driver rolls to a stop near the stairs. “Thanks,” you say and push the door open to step out into the cold October air. The man doesn't anything back and so you shut the door, your mind occupied by the enormity of the house and the upcoming party. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 465]] </h3>

<h3>You press the button for the doorbell and wait, slightly shivering in the cold. A maid opens the door with a smile, “welcome.” “Thanks,” you reply and walk inside. The reception room is toasty warm, it gives off the feeling of entering inside from a snowstorm. The floors are beige porcelain and twin stairs lead to a small landing with a railing to look down over. A giant chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, its numerous glass panels lighting up the room like a disco ball. The walls are lined with still lifes. You walk to the middle room where you can see that in between the stairs hangs a family portrait. A blonde woman sits in a car, her hands folded in her lap, a vacant smile on her face. Imre stands beside her wearing a white suit with a red rose in his lapel. His face is serious which resembles the same expression the older man standing on the other side of him has. You've seen Mayor Duran before, but years ago when you were too young to care. The man from your memories is blurry and so you only deduce that he's Imre's father based on common sense. His skin is much browner, his harm just as curly as his son's but black with gray at his temple. He smiles pleasantly. Imre's resemblance to his dad is striking. “Master Imre is in the event room with the others,” the maid says behind you. You look at her, “he told me to guide you there.” You nod and follow her. She walks at a brisk pace so you have to jog a bit to catch up to her. After going down a long hall with mini-chandeliers lighting the path and more paintings she makes a sharp left turn and stands at the door, gesturing inside the room. You walk past her and she smiles waiting until you actually enter the room to then go wherever she's needed in this house. The room you're in is as big as a school gymnasium. The ceiling is so high you have trouble seeing the designs on its cream-colored surface. There's another chandelier here too but it's turned off, the light comes from the multi-colored fairy lights hanging from the walls and the lamps shaped like ghosts, pumpkins, witches and candy that seem to be everywhere from the stereos to the snack tables. “I'm sorry if you two have the hearing of Van Gogh after he cut off his ear off,” you hear Imre say to Nia and Lorcan. All three of them stand in the middle of the room. Nia bites a piece of chocolate off her candy bar and replies, “you're the one who tries to add Bach to the playlist every year.” “Bach can be scary and give a sense of terrific horror,” Imre retorts. “Who the fuck would be able to listen to anything with a record player?” Lorcan says with a look of annoyance. “What's going on?” you interrupt. All three pairs of eyes snap toward you. Imre smiles and says, “glad you made it.” He looks back to the other two, “I was just giving my opinion that music is at its most delectable when on a record player not on that abomination.” He points to the turntables. “You were born 55,” Nia insults. “I don't think he was born, he just showed up from a headache his mom got,” Lorcan snarks. “Like Athena,” you add as you walk up to them. “Less pretty,” Nia says. “Definitely,” Lorcan says. Imre narrows his eyes and looks at you. You point at his face, “is that a zit?” “I'm surrounded by uncultured bumpkins,” Imre says and goes to the snack table. Nia heads to the turntables, “and that's why I know what other uncultured bumpkins will shake their ass to.” Lorcan looks at you, rolls his eyes and goes to the stereo system. You check your watch, it's five past. People will start coming in any minute now. <hr>\ * [[Help Imre.|Page 466]] * [[Help Nia.|Page 466*]] * [[Help Lorcan.|Page 466**]] * [[Sit in chair and do nothing.|Page 466***]] </h3>

<h3>He's shaking tiny peanut butter cups into a bowl when you stop on the other side of the table. He smiles without looking up, “here to help?” “Least I can do,” you say. Imre hands you a bag of cheese puffs and you start shaking it out over a glass bowl. “So, what do you think of the house?” Imre asks. You raise an eyebrow, “you call this a house? It should be criminal for just three people to live in a place so big.” Imre laughs and you continue, “like you can't seriously tell me you use up all the space in this mansion.” Imre eats a gummy eyeball and starts unscrewing the cap off the punch, “we don't. Ninety percent of the space in the house is used for guest rooms. My ancestor, Felipe Duran did have a lot of children. “ He smirks, “and it is said his fair share of mistresses.” <<if $kissy>>\ “Seems like you wouldn't have trouble following in his gross footsteps,” you say while twisting the cap off of the vodka. Imre shakes his head but keeps the smirk on his face as you hand him the vodka. He starts pouring it into the punch. “It wouldn't be difficult to build my harem but I think I'd be happy with one sex slave,” he says in a suggestive tone. You stare at him as he stares at you. His eyes have a certain darkness to them when he gets like this. You recall how delicious his mouth felt on yours. It was so //good// it makes your knees shake just from remembering it. Imagine if he had kept touching you, kept using his tongue to- “You're a psychopath,” you reply and head off to the other end of the table to fill the bowls there. His laughing makes your cheeks burn. <<elseif $kissyi>>\ “Seems like you wouldn't have trouble following in his gross footsteps,” you say while twisting the cap off of the vodka. Imre shakes his head but keeps the smirk on his face as you hand him the vodka. He starts pouring it into the punch. “It wouldn't be difficult to build my harem but I think I'd be happy with one sex slave,” he says in a suggestive tone. You stare at him as he stares at you. His eyes have a certain darkness to them when he gets like this. You recall how delicious his mouth felt on yours. It was so //good// it makes your knees shake just from remembering it. Imagine if he had kept touching you, kept using his tongue to- “You're a psychopath,” you reply and head off to the other end of the table to fill the bowls there. His laughing makes your cheeks burn. <<elseif $handnol >>\ “Romance is truly dead,” you say with a smile while twisting the cap off of the vodka. Or at least to try to but it won't budge, you lift it up to your mouth and clamp your teeth around the cap but it just makes them ache. “Let me see,” Imre holds out his hand. You grumble but hand it to him, his fingers gently cover yours in an exchange that feels slow. You can feel every bone in his hands as he caresses your fingers. You swear you feel each groove in his fingerprint. And it ends. He opens the bottle with ease and starts pouring it into the bowl. You clear your throat and look down at what to do to keep you busy. You take a bag of mint chocolates and rip it open.<<set $ImreRF += 1>> “It isn't dead,” Imre says. You look up from shaking the bag but he's looking at the punch while stirring. “It's plain for those who see it.” Your cheeks burn and you focus on filling up the rest of the bowls as fast as you can. <<elseif $handl>>\ “Romance is truly dead,” you say with a smile while twisting the cap off of the vodka. Or at least to try to but it won't budge, you lift it up to your mouth and clamp your teeth around the cap but it just makes them ache. “Let me see,” Imre holds out his hand. <<set $ImreRF += 1>> You grumble but hand it to him, his fingers gently cover yours in an exchange that feels slow. You can feel every bone in his hands as he caresses your fingers. You swear you feel each groove in his fingerprint. And it ends. He opens the bottle with ease and starts pouring it into the bowl. You clear your throat and look down at what to do to keep you busy. You take a bag of mint chocolates and rip it open. “It isn't dead,” Imre says. You look up from shaking the bag but he's looking at the punch while stirring. “It's plain for those who see it.” Your cheeks burn and you focus on filling up the rest of the bowls as fast as you can. <<elseif $closern>>\ “Who would you have in your harem if you got your pick?” you ask while twisting the cap off the vodka. Imre looks up, “can it be anyone, dead or alive?” “Ummmm,” you think as you get the cap off and start adding it to the punch bowl. “Sure.” Imre takes the big spoon and waits for you to finish pouring. “Catherine the Great would be the first one.” You make a face, “wasn't she the horse fucker?” Imre grins, “that's a rumour. But she was known for her extensive sexual appetite and she even had furniture made for that purpose.” You twist the cap of the vodka back on, “not bad. Might as well have the best.” “Cheers,” Imre says and lifts a plastic cup, you clink the bottle with it. <<elseif $closery>>\ “Who would you have in your harem if you got your pick?” you ask while twisting the cap off the vodka. Imre looks up, “can it be anyone, dead or alive?” “Ummmm,” you think as you get the cap off and start adding it to the punch bowl. “Sure.” Imre takes the big spoon and waits for you to finish pouring. “Catherine the Great would be the first one.” You make a face, “wasn't she the horse fucker?” Imre grins, “that's a rumour. But she was known for her extensive sexual appetite and she even had furniture made for that purpose.” You twist the cap of the vodka back on, “not bad. Might as well have the best.” “Cheers,” Imre says and lifts a plastic cup, you clink the bottle with it. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 467]] </h3>

<h3>Nia is checking through a notepad when you walk up beside her. She says, “pass me that pen over there,” without looking up. You do so and she scratches something out. “What are you doing?” “Figuring out the music for the party,” she replies half-distracted. You scoot a little closer and try to read the writing. Nia's handwriting is small and feint, you always told her it was a miracle your teachers could read anything she wrote. “So, what do you have?” you ask. “Your regular Halloween music and some new stuff so people can let loose with each other on the dance floor,” she explains. You give her a questioning look. “By 'let loose' you mean...?” She side-eyes you, “any successful party worth its weight has to promote sex. If no one's fucking then it doesn't work.” <<if $lobotomy>>\ “And do you get into that?” you ask, with a sly smile on your face. Nia snorts. “Since when did you become so bold? You never seemed interested in sex at all.” You bite your lip and look down at the turntable, “aren't you the one that's supposed to know everything about me? Why do you think I'm interested?” You can't look at her. Your boldness only goes so far. You've never done this before. “Here, look through it and add or take things away, I'm going to the bathroom,” she says suddenly and hands you the pad. Your smile falls as you take it and the pen. She steps aside to pass you but stops next to you. She leans closer and you feel her breath on your ear as she speaks. “I would. With you. But you need to ask,” she whispers and leaves before you can say anything more. After that, it's hard to concentrate on the music. <<elseif $encourage>>\ “Well I wouldn't know,” you say meekly. Nia looks at you, blinking slowly. “You didn't miss out on much. It actually looks pretty pathetic and disgusting. It's like people make out and grope each other to just show off to others that they have sex.” You feel your face heat and you look at somewhere on the turntable. “Have you ever...” You sigh in irritation. You feel like such an immature baby around her. Of course she has. “Not in front of other people. When I do that with someone I don't need to show off to anyone. Sex has never been that great anyway,” she claims. “But you've had a lot of it,” you say and you finally look up. She's already looking at you and there's a hardness to her eyes. “That would make me qualified to know then, right?” she says and hands you the pad and pen. “I have to go the bathroom, you can add music if you want.” She steps aside to pass you but stops next to you. The light touch of her fingers on your arm makes you want to flinch. She says softly, “sex would only be good for me if I did it with someone I loved.” She doesn't let you react before walking away. After that, it's hard to concentrate on the music. <<elseif $braintrans>>\ “Teenagers are disgusting,” you say. Nia smiles and writes something down, “you should see this list. It's full of songs meant to get people horny.” You come closer and frown as you read down the list. “What's so sexy about practically fucking in front of everyone?” “Depends on the person, Birdie. For some people, it's the thrill of showing off that they have sex. For others they can only do it when they've had far too much punch and they stop giving a shit what people think,” she explains. You shake your head in disappointment. “Please make sure I never get that drunk and if I do drag me by the hair away from whoever groping.” “Sure,” she says and hands you the pad and the pen. “After I take some pictures from different angles.” You roll your eyes, “ha ha ha. Has anyone ever told you that you're not funny?” Her smile is wider now, “you have. Many times but since your jokes would make a deaf person cry, I think I reserve the choice of not believing you.” “Oh, really?” you say with a grin and Nia leaves you before you can come up with something witty. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 467]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan is entirely invisible crouched behind the stereo. You walk up beside him and he looks down at your shoes before grunting and going back to plugging in some wires. “It's always fucking you,” he mumbles. “What?” He shakes his head and gestures for you to come lower, “if your ass is here might as well help me.” You crouch down next to him, your knees touching. You look at the countless red, white and black plugs on the floor and the many holes in the stereo. “What is all of this?” “That's what I'm trying to figure out,” he sighs. “Because I'm the one who knows most about modern music tech, the pretty boy gave me technician duties.” You squint, trying to read the faded labels over the holes. “There's got to be a hole that turns this shit on.” Lorcan snorts. You give him a judgemental look, “are you 12?” “I wouldn't laugh if you weren't goddamn sexual all the time,” he complains and shoves a random cord into the stereo. You laugh and point at yourself, “I'm the sexual one? How, when you're the one who flirts with Imre all the time.” He shoots daggers at you. “Do not.” “Pretty boy?” <<if $niceO>>\ “That's just a joke,” Lorcan says and unplugs the cord and shoves it in another hole. “Yeah well it's not funny,” you say in a suprisingly angry voice. Lorcan gives you an odd look as he unplugs and re-plugs. “You don't want me to call him that anymore?” he asks. You grab a random plug and shove it into the nearest hole you can find, “no, I really don't.” He blinks a few times and then looks back at what he's doing. Eventually, after much experimenting you plug the right plug in the right hole and the stereo turns on. <<elseif $bitchO>>\ “Are you stupid or something? IT'S A JOKE,” he emphasizes. He unplugs the cord and shoves it into another hole. “JOKES ARE MEANT TO BE FUNNY,” you raise your voice. You feel a real anger in the middle of your chest mixed with a stabbing pain that makes you even angrier because why does he do this? “Your ass is just jealous 'cause I have a nice nickname for him and not for you,” he states. You grab a random plug and shove it into the nearest hole you can find. You scoff, “please. Me jealous? Look who we got over here, Jason Priestly-“ “Oh my god you're going to start on your shit again-“ “Actor, certified sexy man. I didn't know I was classmates with a celebrity,” you drawl. “I hope you get electrocuted-“ “Can I get your autograph? Could you take me to LA?” “FINE!“ he yells and grabs you by the arm and forces you to look him in the eyes which are as full of ire as yours. “I won't call him that anymore, HAPPY?” “VERY!“ you yell back and both of you go back to work, angrily plugging and unplugging until you finally find the one that turns on the stereo. <<elseif $rainO>>\ “Ugh, do not start on your shit,” he groans and unplugs the cord and shoves it in another hole. You smile innocently, “on what shit, dear Lorcan?” “You're evil. Like if the devil and Hitler had a baby,” he says. You grab a random plug and shove it into the nearest hole you can find. “Hey I don't judge and as your friend-“ “Since when?” “-I support you in trying to seduce the hottest boy in town,” you state. He stays silent for a few moments and then he says, “your as awful as a 'friend' as you are an enemy.” “Well, you're stuck with me,” you say friendly. After trial and error you end up plugging the right cord in the right place and the stereo comes to life. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 467]] </h3>

<h3><center>❖</center><<audio "excitement" loop play>> The music booms so heavily you can feel it in your chest. You don't know when all these people got here. A few started trickling in ten minutes from 8 and then more and before you knew it the room could barely fit all the people. In spite of the lights, the was a low visibility. Some people you recognized, others had too much makeup to properly see their features. But they could see you. Somehow, even in darkness, you weren't able to have the sweet comfort of anonymity. The whispers started immediately. You moved through the sea of people and you heard your name over and over again. People tried to move out of your way so as not to have the unfortunate luck of being touched by you. You had gotten used to being stared at but not like this. Not away from school, away from adults in a place, in a house that wasn't familiar to you. You saw how the atmosphere would change from lively to sour when a group of people would accidentally knock into you. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ //“What the fuck is she doing here?”// //“Who invited her?”// //“Imre wouldn't do that.”// //“What is she wearing?”// <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ //“What the fuck is he doing here?”// //“Who invited him?”// //“Imre wouldn't do that.”// //“What is he wearing?”// <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ //“What the fuck are they doing here?”// //“Who invited them?”// //“Imre wouldn't do that.”// //“What are they wearing?”// <</if>>\ You look around, trying to find a familiar face. The crowd got too big too fast and you lost sight of where Imre, Nia and Lorcan were. You occupied your hands by filling up your plate with candy. You started eating obsessively, barely giving yourself time to chew. You could feel them penetrating your costume with their eyes. You look and at the punch bowl and <<cycle '$punchb' autoselect>><<option 'drink some.'>><<option 'just keep chewing your candy.'>><</cycle>> You feel a rumbling in your stomach. [[NEXT|Page 468]] </h3>

<h3>The music and the voices start mingling within your head. You feel arms and fingers and legs and breaths and hair touch you. Every inch of your body is invaded by foreign parasites. The room feels smaller. The air you breathe feels like it's not enough, you want to take big gulps but your chest feels constricted, your arms don't have room and you can't escape this wave of body parts that whisper horrible things about you. <<if $punchb is 'drink some.'>>Gasping you twist and turn along these dirty fingers grabbing at you. The alcohol you drank makes things tilt this way and that.<<else>>>Gasping you twist and turn along these dirty fingers grabbing at you, and the room tilts even though you haven't drunk anything.<</if>> You have nothing to clutch onto to keep you from falling down there where no light penetrates but you'll still feel them touching you, taking the little piece of privacy that you have — your body — for themselves. You don't know how long it takes you, but you do make it to a wall and slump down on a chair. The people move away from you and you feel the coolness that comes with damp skin. The colored lights are the only things you can see from here, but you feel them and you hear them and they know where you are. With shaky hands, you do the only thing that can save you. <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ You fumble for your pack, tucked into your costume and hastenly light up a cigarette. You lean your head back and try to focus only on the feeling of smoke and the smell of tobacco. You'll keep going if you have to. Smoke until your lungs blacken in your ribcage and crumble into your stomach acid. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>\ You fumble for the bottle, tucked into your costume and use your teeth to open it when your fingers prove too unstable. You just shake out as much as you can, not bothering to count. You swallow them dry and lean your head back. You try to focus only on the feeling of the pills sliding down your throat. You could finish the whole thing if you must. Not caring enough about overdosing. That would provide a reprieve from this. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ You fumble for your flask, tucked into your costume and use your teeth to open it when your fingers prove too unstable. You hastily start drinking as much as you can, the brandy burning your throat and hurting your eyes. Your stomach lurches as you keep going and you only stop when you feel it coming back up. You lean your head back and try to focus only on the feeling of nausea. Vomiting would be lovely. It would distract from all of this. It would allow you to drink more. Your flask is your only lifevest anymore. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ You look around you and decide that the wall nearest to you is good enough. You clench your hand into a familiar fist and aim true. The pain that reverberates from your knuckles to your shoulder makes you bite your tongue, hard. You try to stop the noises of pain but some slip out like cries. Immediately what follows is a sense of peace. Of relief. Your hand aches terribly but you feel like you won't plunge over the cliff. Blood drips onto your lap. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ You close your eyes and lean your head back. You imagine yourself leaving your body behind. Feeling weightless as you float up over the crowd. No one can see you, no one can touch you. You feel nothing and are nothing. You have returned to the state you were in before you were born. You're not you. Your face can't be real. Your life has been merely fiction. <</if>>\ You wish it with all your being. To not be swallowed by them. Where's the group? //Aren't you supposed to be a team? Why did they leave you? They abandoned you as you knew they would.// //Who's going to save you now?// [[NEXT|Page 469]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know how long you stay in that chair and you think you might stay there all night when a bright light forces you to open your eyes. Someone turned on the chandelier. You blink away the stars in your vision and stand up, looking for anyone you know. But all you see are werewolves, clowns, cheerleaders, fairies. <<audio "excitement" stop>> <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “AND THERE SHE IS!“ a voice exclaims and you feel all eyes turn to you once more. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “AND THERE HE IS!“ a voice exclaims and you feel all eyes turn to you once more. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ “AND THERE THEY ARE!“ a voice exclaims and you feel all eyes turn to you once more. <</if>>\ The crowd in front of you starts parting and you're able to see over some heads to the center of the room where James Hewitt stands on top of something to tower over everyone else. He wears a white toga with laurel leaves around his head. He smiles widely when you make eye contact, a thing with teeth. <<if $tname>>“$name- oh //sorry// I mean $tname, right? How you've been?” he asks with a mocking tone.<<else>>“$name, how you've been?” he asks with a mocking tone.<</if>> The room is quiet now, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You can feel your dry tongue lay like a dead carcass in your mouth. “Don't want to answer? Fine. I actually don't need you to say anything. Wouldn't want to be cursed by whatever demonic shit you're into,” he says sweetly. A few laugh and the crowd starts slowly moving. James lifts his arm to show a thin piece of paper in his hand. All you can see from here is that it has writing on it. “I wrote something for you. And I wanted to share it with you for a while now but you're just so fucking hard to find!“ he says a bit too loudly, his laughing sounds cold. “But it's my lucky night. Now everyone can hear what I have to say,” he says and brings the paper to his face. He peeks over and sweeps his eyes along the crowd, “let's see if anyone recognizes this.” He winks at you and clears his throat. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with her older brother who she fucked because no one else would touch her. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this girl so much he would leave town just not to see her,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this girl. Her best friend left her right when she was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of her. She follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cupping one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if her pussy has teeth.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “She was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of her sister that one night she dismembered her and she liked the taste of murder so much she started killing other girls who were more prettier than she was. But wait,” he lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now she's the whore, the second plate, the cum rag for her dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little girl. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck her?” he asks and looks around the room. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with his older brother who he fucked because no one else would touch him. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this boy so much he would leave town just not to see him,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this boy. His best friend left him right when he was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of him. He follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cupping one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if his dick is as small as small as they say.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “He was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of his sister that one night he dismembered her and he liked the taste of murder so much he started killing other girls who would never fuck him. But wait,” he lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now he's the fag, the second plate, the cum rag for his dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little boy. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck him?” he asks and looks around the room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with her older brother who she fucked because no one else would touch her. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this girl so much he would leave town just not to see her,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this girl. Her best friend left her right when she was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of her. She follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cups one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if her pussy has teeth.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “She was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of her sister that one night she dismembered her and she liked the taste of murder so much she started killing other girls who were more prettier than she was. But wait,” she lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now she's the whore, the second plate, the cum rag for her dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. “She knew she couldn't make it as a female so she decided to start calling herself a boy but I bet if we take her pants down we'll see the nasty smell hole she has there,” he points at you. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little girl. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck her?” he asks and looks around the room. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with his older brother who he fucked because no one else would touch him. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this boy so much he would leave town just not to see him,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this boy. His best friend left him right when he was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of him. He follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cupping one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if his dick is as small as small as they say.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “He was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of his sister that one night he dismembered her and he liked the taste of murder so much he started killing other girls who would never fuck him. But wait,” she lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now he's the fag, the second plate, the cum rag for his dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. “He knew he couldn't make it as a guy so he decided to start calling himself a girl but I bet if we take his pants down we'll see the little prick he has,” he points at you. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little boy. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck him?” he asks and looks around the room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with his older brother who he fucked because no one else would touch him. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this boy so much he would leave town just not to see him,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this boy. His best friend left him right when he was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of him. He follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cupping one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if his dick is as small as small as they say.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “He was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of his sister that one night he dismembered her and he liked the taste of murder so much he started killing other girls who would never fuck him. But wait,” he lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now he's the fag, the second plate, the cum rag for his dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. “He knew he was too much of a pussy to make it as a guy so he decided to start calling himself a //they// like that makes any fucking sense, he's one person! But I bet if we take his pants down we'll see the little prick he has,” he points at you. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little boy. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck him?” he asks and looks around the room. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ “Once upon a time, there was this little freak who lived in a piece of shit house with her older brother who she fucked because no one else would touch her. A junkie mom who opened her legs to the richest buyer and a fat old dad who hated this girl so much he would leave town just not to see her,” he recites. You feel your nails dig into your palm. “No one loved this girl. Her best friend left her right when she was sent to a lunatic asylum. She must've been so glad to get rid of her. She follows the popular boy around like a little groupie and between us,” he says cupping one side of his mouth, “he's trying to see if her pussy has teeth.” You feel a red-hot fury engulf your face, your lungs work overtime to pump out deep exhalations. “She was a useless walking ad for an abortion who was so jealous of her sister that one night she dismembered her and she liked the taste of murder so much she started killing other girls who were more prettier than she was. But wait,” he lifts a finger, “it wasn't enough. Now she's the whore, the second plate, the cum rag for her dead sister's boyfriend!“ You thought about it. For a second, about how it would feel to strangle him in the middle of the room. “She knew she was a poor example of a female so she decided to start calling herself a //they// like that makes any fucking sense she's one person! But I bet if we take her pants down we'll see the nasty smell hole she has there,” he points at you. You had never felt this level of rage before. It made your body shake. “Poor little girl. Who could love anyone so fucking ugly? Any takers? Raise your hand if you would fuck her?” he asks and looks around the room. <</if>>\ People start laughing, so clearly and delightedly as they look your way and the whispers restart. “I would rather get my dick sucked by Mr. Ewekes,” someone shouts out from the crowd and the laughter grows stronger. James smiles cruelly at you and bows to in applause. People jostle each other and cackle like old witches. You want to kill him. <hr>\ * [[You try.|Page 470][$athim to true]] * [[You stay where you are.|Page 470][$nothim to true]] * [[You want to hide.|Page 470][$sadhim to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $athim>>\ You start to make your way to him with thoughts of pushing him off that chair and beating his face in but a pair of strong hands grab hold of your arms and pull you back. You start thrashing, your laser focus on James who laughs as he watches you. “Let me go!“ you yell.<<set $Worth += 1>> “This is what he wants,” Imre's voice says in your ear. “You won't be able to take him.” You feel impotence because you can't get out of Imre's grasp and you know he's right. But why can't you finally get some damn revenge? “Let. Go. Of. Me,” you say in between clenched teeth. “Only if you won't go after him,” Imre warns. You stop thrashing and even though you want nothing more you nod once and Imre lets you go. <<elseif $nothim>>\ You don't know what to do. It feels like if you move it becomes real. But there he is, standing on that chair and laughing like he won something. He clearly won your anger. <<set $Worth += 1>> “Birdie, don't let them see you like this,” Nia's voice comes from somewhere near you but you can't look away from James. “He did this to break you down, he wants you to do something so everyone can think you're insane and he was right. Be smart about this,” she advises. “Right now isn't the time.” Nia, always with her plans. She always liked giving the people she hated a sense of peace but you can't think as coldly as she can when every cell in your body wants to act. <<elseif $sadhim>>\ You can't look at him but you can't look around you since you'll meet the eyes of others who think you're scum too. “Crowny, are you going to cry?” Lorcan asks from somewhere ahead of you. “Don't cry. Those sons of bitches will not let you forget that,” he claims. Oh, Lorcan. “Beat the shit outta him if you want but don't cry.” Lorcan who hates his own displays of emotions and prefers to cover it up with fists. It must be his own type of masochism. But you know James would beat you easily and if you're embarrassed right now, it will be worse once you're writhing on the floor. <</if>>\ You don't think, you just go and push people aside, you elbow some, you shove others; you make your way through the crowd like a scythe in a field of wheat. When you finally make it out of there you're greeted by groups of people in the hall who follow you with their eyes as you speed-walk down it. You randomly thrust open a door and slam it behind you. You see yourself reflected back in the mirror. Bright bulbs surround it and underneath it, a golden tap. Your face looks sweaty and the expression etched on it is so grim and resigned that you never want to see your face again. So... //weak. Aren't we?// You sink down to the floor and hug your knees to your chest as you feel the hyperventilation begin underneath your skin. You cover your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping this room. You shake as if a horrible draft is in the bathroom with you and your head moves the room from left to right. You start seeing double and so you lay on the ground on your side and get into a fetal position. Pressing your eyes deep into your knees until they ache. Never before had you wished you could cry. [[NEXT|Page 471]] </h3>

<h3>Hey, it's not your party and Imre didn't say that you had to help if you came early. You pull a random chair to the corner of the room and sit down. Arms crossed with an expressionless look in your eyes. [[NEXT|Page 467]] </h3>

<h3>You wash your face. The cool water feels like a balm against your heated skin. You turn off the tap and take a folded towel from a nearby rack. You wipe your face and dry your hands. You feel like there's something wrong with your face. Something about it clearly shows you're distressed as if you've been stained by that experience. In the whole of your life you've never been so humiliated. You knew this would happen, so you were right to feel apprehensive about coming to this party. You remember the first time Imre asked you, and you immediately wanted to say no. “Listen to your gut,” you say to your reflection. But you can't stay here all night. You check your watch, you all agreed to meet in the library at 10. It's barely a quarter past 9. Someone knocks on the door, “hey! I need to piss!” “There’s like twenty bathrooms in this fucking house,” you whisper and push off the sink. The keep knocking even after you’ve unlocked the door and when you throw it open, nearly hitting them, their eyes widen when they see it’s you, their arm stays frozen in a knocking position. “Yes, it’s me, the freak,” you say and walk away. Your exhausted of it all. If they want to stare and exaggerate their fear, let them do it. It’s not your problem, you walk back into the room and the lights are dim once more. From this vantage point you can finally see who you need to see. Imre stands taller than most underneath the chandelier. You can’t distinguish the crowd around him from the crowd dancing. Nia picks through the snack table while a boy talks her ear off. You can tell she’s not listening. And Lorcan is nodding along to the music by the turntable. Note: this choice locks in the romance. Go to... <hr>\ * [[Imre|Page 472]] * [[Nia|Page 472*]] * [[Lorcan|Page 472**]] * [[The chair you were at.]] </h3>

<h3>“Bullshit,” you interject. “I never fussed over you and you would still bitch and moan.” Nia raises a finger, “I bitch but I don't moan.” “I do,” Lorcan says and then adds quickly, “not in a sexual way guys.” “For a non-virgin, you do have a virgin attitude,” Imre says, “If I have one then Crowny does too!“ Lorcan complains. “Who says I'm a virgin?” you ask awkwardly. Three pairs of eyes look at you. “I don't want to offend but-“ “Birdie you're not foo-“ “You're saying you got fucked in that hospi-“ “OK I GET IT!“ you interrupt. They all start laughing and although you try to act offended you somehow feel as if your mood is slightly lighter all of a sudden. [[NEXT|Page 455]] </h3>

<h3>“I find a certain delight in being fussed over,” Imre says. Nia rolls her eyes, “you find delight in knee-based worship.” “Is that a sex thing?” Lorcan asks. “For a non-virgin, you do have a virgin personality,” Imre says, “If I have one then Crowny does too!“ Lorcan complains. You stare at him but don't contradict him. You keep your ears on the banter but your eyes on the clothes. Although you can't help but feel at ease. Perhaps this is what belonging feels like. [[NEXT|Page 455]] </h3>

<h3>You're not in the mood for anything right now. Much less talking to you're supposed 'team.' You push people aside without much care until you make it to the sanctity of your seat. You cross your arms and lay there, glowering at anyone who dares get too close to you. You try to shut your eyes and block it all out. <<set $Nothing to true>> [[NEXT|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3><<if $tname>>He sees you as you make your way through the crowd and smiles. You come up behind a pair of girls who are blocking your path and he asks, kindly, “Sam, Violet, could you make room for $tname?”<<else>>He sees you as you make your way through the crowd and smiles. You come up behind a pair of girls who are blocking your path and he asks, kindly, “Sam, Violet, could you make room for $name?”<</if>> The girls, look over their shoulders at you and scowl as if they just saw a fly buzzing around. They reluctantly move aside and you join the circle around him. //Like one of his groupies?// <<if $tname>>“Everyone, I don’t think you’ve ever truly met $tname.<<else>>“Everyone, I don’t think you’ve ever truly met $name.<</if>><<if $pronouns is 'she'>> I don’t blame you. She is a hard person to find,” he says in a friendly tone.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> I don’t blame you. He is a hard person to find,” he says in a friendly tone.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> I don’t blame you. They are a hard person to find,” he says in a friendly tone.<</if>> The girl – Sam – doesn’t even glance your way. She lays a hand on Imre’s arm and says seductively, “Imrreee keep telling us about that goal you got last week.” No it’s not seductive, it’s tipsy although you don’t doubt that she’s flirting with him. Imre grins and gently gets her arm off of him without making it look like it's so. “There really was all there is to it. Soccer is a fairly simple game.” She pushes up next to him and you look around the group, guys and girls all staring up at him adoringly, eating up his every word despite Imre not doing anything special. You find that it’s hard for you to look away each time. You can see why. Even though his costume could be better, he makes it work. He tan skin reflects the colours of the light perfectly and his smile accentuates his sharp cheekbones. “Ok,” she says and hiccups, “then maybe you could show me how to play? We could go somewhere now.” Imre seems so amused by her suggestion and admittedly it makes you feel...<<cycle '$feelL' autoselect>><<option 'jealous.'>><<option 'hurt.'>><<option 'amused.'>><</cycle>> “Oh teach me Imre!” Violet begs. “Me too!” another girl says. Imre chuckles and hands his drink to a boy nearby who is more than willing to serve his every need. “I’ll think about it but right now I think I want to dance.” Sam yelps and tries to grab Imre’s hand to tug him away from the others but Imre easily gets out of her grasp and extends a hand to you. The reaction is instantaneously, people around you look at the exchange as if Imre grew a second nose. “Care to dance?” <hr>\ * [[⟡ Yes.|Page 473-P]] <<nobr>> <<if $Nia>>*==♥️ Yes.==<<elseif $Lorcan>>*==♥️ Yes.==<<else>>* [[♥️ Yes.|Page 473-F][$Imre to true]]<</if>> <<if $Nia>>*==♡ Yes.==<<elseif $Lorcan>>*==♡ Yes.==<<else>>* [[♡ Yes.|Page 473-A][$Imre to true]]<</if>> <</nobr>> </h3>

<h3>When she notices that you’re heading right to her she takes another plastic plate from the bag and places it next to her. You come up just to hear what the boy – Carter – is saying to her. “The paint was so strong he was purple for a week,” he laughs. Nia shoves him aside like a bug while she reaches for the sour keys. “Told the principal though the whiny bitch and we got a week’s detention, bullshit it was just a joke people are so fucking sensitive now,” he complains. When you slide up near Nia, Carter makes a face that isn't short of irritation. He bends down to whisper in her ear but he's very bad at it so you can clearly hear when he says, “yo, that weirdo is here $pronouns looking at you let's go.” Nia straightens up and turns to face him, “Carter I want you to leave.” He looks stunned. “You don’t have to handle $pronouns beautiful, I can do it for you.” You can’t see Nia’s face from this position but by her words you can tell she’s giving him one of her impassive looks. “Carter are you stupid? I want you to get out of my sight. Now.” The scary thing about Nia is that she hardly ever raises her voice. Carter pales and he fumbles for his drink, spilling some on himself before mumbling some goodbye and immersing himself into the nearest group he can find. “You’re charming as always,” you jest. She takes a marshmallow, squishes it and plops it in her mouth. “Some people think they’re the most interesting thing in the world and that all shit that comes out of their mouth is gold.” “Like Imre?” you say. Nia smiles, “at least he’s a good storyteller.” Nia looks down at your empty plate and slides over a bowl of potato chips to you. “Are you planning on gorging yourself all night?” She glares at you and eats another sour key, “I can’t stand 99% of the people in this room and I want to open this damn book that’s burning a hole in my purse.” She looks at your plate again and seems to be judging how slow you’re piling it up. “The candy isn’t going to bite.” You roll your eyes, “I know I’m just not that hungry.” “Fine we can share mine. Let’s go,” she dictates and starts walking away from the table. “Go? Go where?” She doesn’t stop nor turn around and it’s hard to hear her over the music. That is if she answered you which seems unlikely. <hr>\ * [[⟡ Go.|Page 473-P*]] <<nobr>> <<if $Imre>>* ==♥️ Go.==<<elseif $Lorcan>>* ==♥️ Go.==<<else>>* [[♥️ Go.|Page 473-F*][$Nia to true]]<</if>> <<if $Imre>>*==♡ Go.==<<elseif $Lorcan>>*==♡ Go.==<<else>>* [[♡ Go.|Page 473-A*][$Nia to true]]<</if>> <</nobr>> </h3>

<h3>To get to him you have to walk through a group of boys that you vaguely recognize. They stand in a circle and are too tall to see over. Basketball players most likely. You try to push past them but their strong arms just elbow you back. “Excuse me,” you say firmly and shoulder through a gap. The guys move aside and you make your way through. As you leave them you hear from the mouth of a boy with rank beer breath, “fucking sad. Why come to a party if no one’s gonna ask you to dance.” “Are you offering, Tom?” “Fuck no!” he exclaims and the boys laugh behind you. You come up next to Lorcan and lean on the stereo. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the group of boys. His eyes brimmed with the force of his growing anger. The red lamp near him is a nice touch. He looks devilish. “So how’s the party?” you ask. “Where the fuck were you?” he asks with reproach. You don’t answer him quick enough for his liking and he swivels his head to glare at you. “You just left! I thought you were dead somewhere.” Your eyes furrow. Lorcan is chastising you? “Why would I be dead somewhere? I don’t have the best of luck but I’m not going to trip and fall down a flight of stairs.” He moves in closer and it almost looks like he wants to fight you. “A dickhead says a lot of shit about you, a lot of people here hate you and you just go off alone? Fucking think.” He points at your brain. You scoff, “Lorcan no one is going to kill me at this party. It’s a high school party. It’s not like Imre invited convicts.” Lorcan narrows his eyes. “Not all killers are convicts, Crowny.” “Yeah well the point still stands. James hates me because he has a small dick and wants to take it out on someone else,” you reply. You feel eyes on you and see the same group of boys stealing glances at both of you. They're not entirely subtle in the fact that they're talking about both of you. You feel Lorcan seethe beside you. He isn't as ridiculed as you are but that doesn't mean he has it good in an environment like this either. You get an idea. There’s a high chance he’ll say no but Lorcan’s anger at the people in this room might prove to be stronger than his hatred for you. <hr>\ * [[⟡ “We can talk shit too.”|Page 473-P**]] <<nobr>> <<if $Imre>>*==♥️ “Do you want to dance?”==<<elseif $Nia>>*==♥️ “Do you want to dance?”==<<else>>* [[♥️ “Do you want to dance?”|Page 473-F**][$Lorcan to true]]<</if>> <<if $Imre>>*==♡ “Let’s go outside.”==<<elseif $Nia>>*==♡ “Let’s go outside.”==<<else>>* [[♡ “Let’s go outside.”|Page 473-A**][$Lorcan to true]]<</if>> <</nobr>> </h3>

<h3>You take his hand, it feels like it engulfs yours. He guides you away from his admirers who you feel are veering between confused and jealous. You chance a look back and Sam is giving a death glare. You can’t say you don’t feel special. Each person you pass gawks at what they're seeing, most seem in disbelief that this is happening before their eyes. You see a guy just shakes his head over and over again. Imre turns around, puts his hand on your hip and pulls you close. Your eyes widen at how it feels to have your chest pressed against his. You feel your cheeks heat and say, “Imre, this is very close.”<<set $rescueI to true>> Imre hums and presses you even closer. Your eyes widen and his smile grows wider. You can’t look him in the eyes so you look at his Adam’s apple which makes you gulp. You try to follow his steps but not only don’t you know how to dance to this music nor is there enough room to do anything but sway. <<if $tname>>“$tname,” he brings his mouth near your cheek, “look at me.” It’s a command, there’s no force behind it but you know he won’t allow you to do anything but what he says.<<else>>“$name,” he brings his mouth near your cheek, “look at me.” It’s a command, there’s no force behind it but you know he won’t allow you to do anything but what he says.<</if>> You look into his blue eyes which are much darker in this light. The look in his eyes contrast with his pleased smile. “Are you nervous?” he asks. You nod. His dimples grow deeper. “Because of the dancing or because of me?” “Both.” [[NEXT|Page 474-F]] </h3>

<h3>You take his hand, it feels like it engulfs yours. He guides you away from his admirers who you feel are veering between confused and jealous. You chance a look back and Sam is giving a death glare. You throw her a smile. Each person you pass gawks at what they're seeing, most seem in disbelief that this is happening before their eyes. You see a guy just shakes his head over and over again.<<set $ImreRA += 2>> You think Imre is going to stop at any point on the dance floor but instead he keeps dragging you until you’re out of the room and in the hall. “Imre?” you ask. He ignores you and you have to briskly walk to keep from having him drag you too hard. Even so your shoulder starts aching. You think he aims to take you outside but suddenly he opens a door somewhere and leads you inside. He lets out of your hand and closes it, you hear the swift sound of a lock. You stand in a nearly empty room, a black piano is near the big window that filters in the moonlight. Imre stands by the door and makes no move to turn on the light. It’s too dark to see his expression and your heart starts racing. You start thinking of different scenarios. Is he going to kill you? Hurt you? Is he getting you back for all the times you’ve pissed him off?<<set $rescueI to true>> “What the fuck are we doing in here,” you ask, trying to make your voice sound angry instead of scared. “I thought we were going to dance?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“We are. But it's a different type of dance I had in mind, nena,” he says in a lower tone. He starts walking toward you and you start walking backwards, keeping your eyes trained on him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“We are. But it's a different type of dance I had in mind, nene,” he says in a lower tone. He starts walking toward you and you start walking backwards, keeping your eyes trained on him.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“We are. But it's a different type of dance I had in mind, nene,” he says in a lower tone. He starts walking toward you and you start walking backwards, keeping your eyes trained on him.<</if>> [[NEXT|Page 474-A]] </h3>

<h3>His hand starts caressing your waist. “I would like to do something that could make your nerves better.” You feel a thick lump in your throat. “What?” your voice barely comes out. “Close your eyes,” he instructs softly. “No,” you say instantly. His hand wanders along your hip and he says sternly, “close your eyes.” You stare at him for another second before reluctantly shutting them. You wait, half of you wanting to bolt out of the room and the other yearning. All those times you looked at his lips, fantasized about what it would be like to let him do it. Your thoughts of desire begin to compete with your doubts. What if you're not good at it? What if your breath smells? What if he's just doing this out of morbid curio- His lips press gently against yours. You notice how wet they are. Did he lick them for you? You stay still as he moves his mouth against yours, tugging softly at your bottom lip. You feel your stomach swirl as his tongue lightly licks inside your mouth. Your tongue doesn’t move but he doesn’t need you to, he works his tongue atop yours, goes to the sides and under it, lightly coaxing it up. You make a noise in your throat and Imre responds with a slight grunt as he kisses you with more intensity. Your lips feel bruised but you can’t seem to care as his hands wander up your body and cup your cheeks. You don’t know if you’re breathing. But it wouldn’t be a bad way to die, Imre’s taste in your mouth would be a good way to go out.<<set $ImreRF += 2>> He breaks the kiss and you let out a sigh as you open your eyes lazily. He licks his lips and searches your face. Whatever he sees on it makes him grin. “Watching the way you react to different stimuli is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he claims. [[NEXT|Page 475-F]] </h3>

<h3>You blink, the afterglow of the kiss starts to fade and the noise of the party comes back in full swing. “Did you do that to see what I would do?” He doesn’t answer that instead he says, “just like when James read his story. It was fascinating to see your face.” Your eyebrows draw together, “you saw? You saw and did nothing? Is that what you’re telling me?” Imre tilts his head, “of course I did. I had a feeling he would say something-” “And you just let it happen?” you ask, your voice rising. Imre looks confused as he says, “I didn’t know what he would say exactly. But yes, you could say I knew it would be unflattering-” “He embarrassed me,” you say furiously. Imre looks even more confounded. “I needed to see.” You look at him incredulously, “see-” He gestures to you with both hands, “this! This reaction! It’s beautiful.” He looks at you in awe. “I always thought you were weak and then as I got to know you I thought maybe there was more and I hypothesized that strong emotion wakes you up. Unlike everyone else who shuts down when life hits them, you get up. You’re alive.” You blink rapidly, amazed at what you're hearing. “I'm an experiment to you.” Imre shakes his head and he tries to grab your hand but you deflect him. You think you see a flash of something resembling sadness amidst the confusion but it’s just your wishful thinking. You hurry out of the room as the whispers of the kiss Imre just gave you follow you like hounds. <hr>\ * [[See Nia.|Page 472*]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>You spend the next 15 minutes just wandering around trying to make the minutes go by faster. You find a random room to hide in. It's a plain old guestroom with an unmade that suggests some party goers found it first. You put your head in your hands and try to block out the muffled music and voices coming through the heavy door. //Can this night get more stressful?// You used to be able to stare at nothing and have the hours pass as if time slipped from your fingers like sand. Everything used to be simpler, when you were locked up. You knew what every day consisted of, you knew that none of you there were worse or better and that the world had left you behind because there was something in each of your brains that didn't function the way everyone else wanted it to. But that perfect non-existence has been replaced by this. The little of what you’ve made of your life since you’ve come back is crumbling or was never solid to begin with. You were given clay and you let it hardened into a heavy grey mess. Maybe if you hadn’t gone away, you could spent two years building it up, you could’ve figured out the tools you needed. But for that Orla would have needed not died, girls wouldn’t have needed to disappear and this town would have been needed to be neutralized from the darkness emanating within it from it’s very roots. There’s no good in believing in fantasies. At 10, you find a maid to direct you to the library and when you get there you see a tall arched door with etchings in the wood of a scene in a forest. Maybe it’s a paintings. There’s a young girl sitting in a meadow and she’s reading a book surrounded by gazelles, rabbits, squirrels and doves. You take a closer peak and there’s about the girl’s expression that gives you pause. She’s crying. You look to the woods behind her and at you can’t see anything but you get the distinct feeling that something is looking back at you. You lean in closer, there is something there. It’s camouflaged in the tree trunks you have to really squint to make it out. It looks like a circle. Or an eye? The door opens and Imre gives you a quizzical look. You stand up straight and walk in.<<if $Imre>> You avoid looking at Imre.<<elseif $Nia>> You avoid looking at Nia.<<elseif $Lorcan>> You avoid looking at Lorcan.<<elseif $ImreP>> You avoid looking at Imre.<<elseif $NiaP>> You avoid looking at Nia.<<elseif $LorcanP>> You avoid looking at Lorcan.<<elseif $Nothing>>You look at no one.<</if>> Nia is already there and Lorcan comes in just behind you. You gather around a mahogany table with neatly arranged books set to the side. “Nia?” Imre says. She unsling her alligator purse from her shoulder and takes out a cloth covered book. She puts it in the middle of the table and Imre flips it open. On the front page under the words This DIARY Belongs To: Yasmine Esihle Mir. [[NEXT|Page 477]] </h3>

<h3>Your hands ball into fists and you think about how you could hit him if he tries to attack you. You bump into a hard edge – the piano, you presume. You try to sidestep him but he thrusts his hips against yours and presses you back against the piano. He places his arms on either side of you and leans in. The moonlight catches his eyes and you see how enlarged his pupils are. You finally understand what he wants. You two stare at each other, your chest rising and falling. Then... you attack each other. It’s animalistic the way you devour the other’s mouth. His spit glides into your mouth and you roll it around your teeth. You stick your tongue deep inside him, as if sexually penetrating him. And maybe that is what you’re doing. He grips at your costume, stretching it, pulling it, searching your body. His hands reach around to your ass and he squeezes. You groan into his mouth and he bites your lip. He lifts you up onto the piano and pushes your legs open with his knee. Slotting himself in between your thighs he presses his pelvis against yours and starts moving it up and down. Every moan that comes out of your mouth, he swallows hungrily. He puts a hand on your chest and pushes you back. Your head hits the piano rather hard but Imre distracts you from the pain but raking his fingernails along your clothed chest. You push your pelvis up and in response he bucks his hips. He grabs the fabric of your top with his hands and looks at you. There’s a question in his eyes. <hr>\ *[[Yes.|Page 475-A][$yesa to true]] *[[No.|Page 475-A][$noa to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $yesa>>\ You hear fabric tear as he rips your shirt open. You don't even have time to think about the fact that he sees you half-naked before he ducks down and drags his touch along your collarbone. You throw your head back and grip the edges of the piano. He peppers rough kisses along your sternum and guides his open mouth along to your nipple which he sucks into his mouth viciously. You moan as he tongue swirls around it expertly. His other hand tweaks your other nipple and you arch your back. You don’t know what to do or what to think. Your whole world has just become sensation. Imre. Imre. Imre. He bites your hardened tip and you squirm. “You look delicious,” he whispers against your skin. You don't have a mouth to respond, you just push your chest against it to feel that moistness of his mouth suckling you. “I had to have you like this, writhing under me when I saw your face when James was humiliating you,” he moans against your stomach. You freeze. “What?” you ask. “Hmm?” he says as he begins to lick your belly button. You sit up and push him off of you. You get off the piano and move away from him. “What the fuck was that?” Imre breathes heavily as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. “What do you mean?” Between gritted teeth you say, “you fucking knew. You fucking knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?!” Imre runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat, “I had an inking. And?” Your eyes widen and you feel that same rage you felt early restart in your chest, “‘and?’ You let that piece of shit say all that about in front of everyone just because you wanted to get horny enough to fuck me?!” “You don’t have to be so crude,” he replies and adjusts his costume. “I wanted to see something or rather to confirm something.” You blink rapidly your hands shaking from the need to rip his eyeballs out. He walks towards you and you're ready to go for his face when he turns and starts walking around you, his eyes raking every inch of your body. “You see I thought the only interesting thing about you was your fits or rage that I theorize are otherworldly in nature given how it contrasts with what I know of you.” His eyes slowly take in your chest and you pull the tattered remains of your top closed. “I thought that would make your normal you boring. It wasn’t until I saw how you reacted to me when I would anger you that I knew there was something alive in you, angry and carnivorous and sadistic and like me,” he declares. He stops in front of you with his arms crossed. “Tonight just confirmed it. You wanted to kill James, didn’t you?” He says this with a smile and your hand jerks ready to punch him across the face but he laughs and takes a step back. He looks you up and down, the hunger still there and pulsing. “I can see you’re mad. And that you likely want to kill me now so I won’t touch you.” “Unless you tell me,” he says in a suggestive tone and walks to the door. Before he opens it you say with ire, “you fucking psycho I’m not your fucking experiment.” He throws you a friendly smile and walks out. <<elseif $noa>>\ You shake your head and sit yourself up. Imre moves back and adjusts the thick thing under his clothes. You’re glad he can’t see your face to know how shy it looks. “I can’t,” you explain. Imre runs a hand through his hair, “it’s fine.” You get off the piano and both of you just adjust your costumes and hair. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how this happened. How the night led you here. “It was worth it,” he says. You raise your eyebrows, “what is?” He smiles and gestures between you two, “to see you like this, undone under me was worth it. I don’t know if you looked more enticing here or when James was humiliating you earlier.” You feel yourself go cold. “Did you fucking know?” Imre breathes heavily as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. “What do you mean?” Between gritted teeth you say, “you fucking knew. You fucking knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?!” Imre runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat, “I had an inking. And?” Your eyes widen and you feel that same rage you felt early restart in your chest, “‘and?’ You let that piece of shit say all that about in front of everyone just because you wanted to get horny enough to fuck me?!” “You don’t have to be so crude,” he replies and adjusts his boner once more. “I wanted to see something or rather to confirm something.” You blink rapidly your hands shaking from the need to rip his eyeballs out. You move away from the piano to stand across from him. He walks towards you and you ready to go for his face when he turns and starts walking around you, his eyes raking every inch of your body. “You see I thought the only interesting thing about you was your fits or rage that I theorize are otherworldly in nature given how it contrasts with what I know of you.” “I thought that would make your normal you boring. It wasn’t until I saw how you reacted to me when I would anger you that I knew there was something alive in you, angry and carnivorous and sadistic and like me,” he declares. He stops in front of you with his arms crossed. “Tonight just confirmed it. You wanted to kill James, didn’t you?” He says this with a smile and your hand jerks ready to punch him across the face but he laughs and takes a step back. He looks you up and down, the hunger still there and pulsing. “I can see you’re mad. And that you likely want to kill me now so I won’t touch you.” “Unless you tell me,” he says in a suggestive tone and walks to the door. Before he opens it you say with ire, “you fucking psycho I’m not your fucking experiment.” He throws you a friendly smile and walks out. <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[See Nia.|Page 472*]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>You forget about how tight this room felt. You forgot about the looks and the stares. You finally see why people go to parties. You’re glad you came if it was just to have this one moment with your friend. “What?” he asks as you boogie. “Huh?” “You’re looking at me like you want to cry,” he says. “Oh that doesn’t happen,” you say and try to do the Charleston. “I just thought that... thanks for inviting me.” “Anytime,” he replies and slides to the left. “I know I kind of put a damper on things with the stuff James said,” you claim. Imre gives you a confused look, “you didn’t do that. He did. While it might have been a different mood for the night than what I wanted I’m not sorry it happened.” Your smile slightly lowers, “what?” Imre twirls you around again, “I’ve been curious about you for a while and I wanted to see what you were made out of. Tonight proved to me that you’re strong.” [[NEXT|Page 475-P]] </h3>

<h3>You let go of his hand and stop dancing, “Imre, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He continues dancing but slower. “You knew,” you realize. Imre shakes his head, “I didn’t know exactly but I guessed.” You feel so cold. Your expression turns to something resembling hurt. Betrayal. The second time a friend has done that. “Why did you do this to me?” you ask. Imre stops dancing and stares at you as if you weren’t making sense. “I did it for you. To show you and myself that no matter what you always got back up. This made you stronger.” Your eyes widen and you feel the wrath bursting from your mouth, “stronger? I don’t need you to make me stronger! I don’t need to be publicly shamed to be stronger! What the fuck is wrong with you?” People around you look your way. Imre crosses his arms and doesn’t look fazed by your outburst. “I thought I was doing you a favour. Isn’t that what friends do?” You shake your head and let out a dry laugh, “that’s what you think friends are.” Imre’s jaw tightens as he watches you laugh at him. Your mouth falls and you say coldly, “Nia was right about you. It’s always about you. She just forgot to mention that you weren’t capable of being a friend either.” You walk past him into the hall and away from the party. <hr>\ * [[See Nia.|Page 472]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>Her long legs and generally intimidating personality make it that by the time you manage to push past everyone she's already gone. You go into the hall and see her retreating form disappear into a room. You quickly follow. You push the door open and immediately smell chlorine. The only lights in the room come from the poll which takes up nearly the entire floor of the room. The only windows are small and high up, you see the twinkling stars. Nia sits at the edge of the pool, her feet swaying in the water. The room looks clinical with its white walls and white tiled floors. There’s a singular white bench pressed by the wall. She slowly chews as she watches her feet. You sit down beside her and take off your shoes. The water is cold but it’s a relief from the oppressive heat of the party. You wiggle your toes and internally sigh. You have a vague desire to jump in. “If I have to wet my hair to save you from drowning I will save your life just to drown you myself,” Nia says.<<set $NiaP += 2>> You look at her and grimace. “It’s scary how you can do that.” “You a thing where your eyes go to whatever you’re thinking about,” she informs. “What about when I’m thinking about something abstract like love?” you inquire. She arches her eyebrow, “you think about love?” You sigh and splash some water ahead of you, “not much. But it is very confusing when I do.” You ask, “what’s it like?” [[NEXT|Page 474-P*]] </h3>

<h3>Her long legs and generally intimidating personality make it that by the time you manage to push past everyone she's already gone. You go into the hall and see her retreating form disappear into a room. You quickly follow. You push the door open and immediately smell chlorine. The only lights in the room come from the poll which takes up nearly the entire floor of the room. The only windows are small and high up, you see the twinkling stars. Nia sits at the edge of the pool, her feet swaying in the water. The room looks clinical with its white walls and white tiled floors. There’s a singular white bench pressed by the wall. She slowly chews as she watches her feet. You sit down beside her and take off your shoes.<<set $rescueN to true>> The water is cold but it’s a relief from the oppressive heat of the party. You wiggle your toes and internally sigh. You have a vague desire to jump in. Nia’s foot lightly grazes yours and you think it’s an accident until she gently trails her toes along the top of your foot. You stop breathing for a second as her toes travel along your ankles. “It doesn’t feel the same,” she says, her voice echoing off the walls. You watch both of your feet play against each other. “What?” “Us.”<<set $NiaRF += 2>> “It hasn’t for a long time.” “I don’t mean just the fact that I didn’t call you. I mean that this. Now. Our friendship doesn’t feel the same anymore,” she affirms. [[NEXT|Page 474-F*]] </h3>

<h3>Her long legs and generally intimidating personality make it so that by the time you manage to push past everyone she's already gone. You go into the hall and see her retreating form disappear into a room. You quickly follow. You push the door open and immediately smell chlorine. The only lights in the room come from the poll which takes up nearly the entire floor of the room. The only windows are small and high up, you see the twinkling stars. Nia sits at the edge of the pool, her feet swaying in the water. The room looks clinical with its white walls and white tiled floors. There’s a singular white bench pressed by the wall. She slowly chews as she watches her feet. You sit down beside her and take off your shoes.<<set $rescueN to true>> The water is cold but it’s a relief from the oppressive heat of the party. You wiggle your toes and internally sigh. You have a vague desire to jump in. “We should go in,” she says as if reading your mind.<<set $NiaRA += 2>> You give her an odd look, “yeah and go back to the party soaking wet.” She gives you a withering look, “I didn’t know our clothes were attached to us, Birdie.” “Oh, you’re sarcastic now?” you ask mockingly. She gets up and starts stripping off her clothes. You’re shocked for a second but you quickly get up and start taking off your clothes too. [[NEXT|Page 474-A*]] </h3>

<h3>You feel like you’re tiptoeing along a rope across Niagara Falls. But you feel like if you don’t say this now you never will. “Maybe... we both felt things before. Maybe things that neither of us wanted to say,” you admit. You chance a glance at her and she’s looking at the water. “The things we said to each other in the bathroom at the Lodge, it felt easier to say them then. Now it just feels dangerous.” You swallow, and your mouth feels so dry. “Did you... like me? Before?” She picks up a watermelon candy slice and chews on it before answering, “yes.” You nod, trying to keep your face composed but you want to grin, you want to smile you want to shout from happiness. She felt it too. All you felt. You thought these feelings were just you, how could someone so amazing ever look at you twice? She finishes eating and asks, “and did you like me?” “All my life.” She smiles and grabs a gummy worm. She sticks half of it in her mouth and turns to you. You don’t know what she’s doing as her face gives nothing away until she starts moving closer. Oh god. Oh god. It’s happening. It’s finally- You open your mouth and take the other half into it. The first thing you notice is that her lips are as soft as you imagined them to be. Soft and oh so plump. Neither of you move, your mouths warmly pressed together. You feel her fingernails slowly trace up your arms and you shiver. She sighs against your mouth and you can taste her breath. It tastes sweet. Her fingers feel along the sides of your neck and her hands go up your face. You can smell her perfume, it’s musky and sugary like damp fallen tree trunks. She cups your face, caressing your cheeks with her fingers. You tentatively touch her legs. They feel strong and tight underneath her clothes. You want to open your eyes and see her. See what it looks like to have her kissing you. [[NEXT|Page 475-F*]] </h3>

<h3>But you also want to remain in this world of sensation where everything is just Nia. Your best friend. The girl you’ve probably loved since you were a kid. The girl who you don’t know if she’ll break your heart again. And as much as it hurts you, as make as you want to never stop, you pull back and move your hands off of her. Nia looks momentarily off balance but she wipes her mouth, lays her hands on her legs and arches her eyebrow. “I thought this was what you wanted, Birdie,” she says her voice unfeeling. Because that’s how Nia is. She doesn’t give too much of herself away. She allows you to give it all and so she has to admit nothing. To feel less. “What do you want? Huh? Really Nia? You ignore me for weeks and then all of a sudden you're telling me you like me and you're kissing me? What do you want?” you demand. She looks away, takes her feet out of the pool and starts putting on her shoes. You feel your chest ache as you see what she's doing. She's pushing you away. “Nia, please.” She stands up and says, “this was stupid of me. I just confuse you and me more. I can’t be near you.” She picks up her plate and starts for the door. You shoot up and yell, “just tell me why!” She doesn’t turn back. How can she love you if she left you? How can you two continue on as if nothing happened? Did you even forgive her? You don’t know if you can. <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>You get it into your head that you want to beat her so you practically rip off your clothes in an attempt but you don’t think it through until you take off you’re in your underwear. You feel Nia’s eyes on your body so you dive into the pool, your burning face making sweet contact with the cold water. You open your eyes and the chlorine irritates it but you twist around and look up at Nia’s shimmering image looking down at you. You break through the surface and see her standing at the ready. Her position reminds you of an Amazonian warrior. Tall, proud and strong. Her thighs flex and you feel yourself wanting to touch them. Her stomach plane is framed by six taught squares and her breasts... Perfect brown mounds. Her nipples strain against the fabric of her bra. Your stomach twists. She looks down at you as if she didn’t expect any less of a reaction. That annoys you. Even if you were gawking like a pervert. “Are you going to stand there all fucking night? It was your idea.” Nia smirks and sits down at the edge, she slips effortlessly into the water. Her height makes it so you can still see the tips of her breasts above the water. The skin there reflects the swaying water exquisitely. The deep longing within you, the one you hate and strive to squish is powerless against you now. If she asked you to touch her, to kiss her, to explore her body as if it belonged to you, you would. You would give anything. [[NEXT|Page 475-A*]] </h3>

<h3>She rolls her finger against the hardened tip of her nipple. “What?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “Tell me you like me.” Your eyes snap back up to her face and you suddenly feel the coldness of the water. Because that’s how Nia is. She doesn’t give too much of herself away. She allows you to give it all and so she has to admit nothing. To feel less. So she can keep being the cold bitch queen and you her loyal rabid lapdog. She must note the change in you because she says, “fine. I guess you didn’t want me that much.” She hooks her bra and pushes herself up from the pool you see how wet her bubble butt ass is and it makes you second guess your choice. “Yeah maybe next time you won’t be so fucking full of yourself. You aren’t that hot,” you try to say with snark. She scoffs as she puts her clothes back on, “to you I am. You just won’t admit want you want.” You throw your head back and laugh, “you really don’t know shit about yourself? Or maybe you think you’re so good at being mysterious and badass but I see through you too Nia.” She rolls her eyes and picks up her plate of candy. You swim to the other side of the pool and yell, “you think you’re so honest and brave and above it all but you’re just as fucked up and as much of a pussy as I am!” She slams the door shut and although that should feel like a triumphant, why do you feel like you both lost? How can she love you if she left you? How can you two continue on as if nothing happened? Did you even forgive her? Your hand balls into a fist. No, you fucking didn’t. <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>Nia picks up a watermelon candy slice and takes a bite. “Well my first love slipped and fell off the roof. Since then I’ve never loved anyone so I’m probably one of the worst people you can ask, Birdie.” “Oh, yeah, Trevor,” you say. Nia had dated him when she was 14. About three months into their relationship he accidentally snapped his neck doing a parkour trick on his roof. You examine her and venture to ask, “but you’ve never thought about trying again?” She finishes chewing before she answers, “why? You don’t need love to live. You can have family love and friend love.” You smile when she says that. You're her best friend. Always have been and now you're her best friend ag- But then the thoughts you’ve been having for the past few days burst forward like a dam. How can she love you if she left you? How can you two continue on as if nothing happened? Did you even forgive her? You slip your feet out of the water and start putting on your shoes. “What’s wrong?” she asks. You can’t look at her while you speak so you focus on tying your laces. “Do you really need friend love to survive? Because you’ve been doing fine without me.” Nia sighs and takes her feet out of the pool too. “Birdie, you have to understand-” [[NEXT|Page 475-P*]] </h3>

<h3>“No I don’t,” you interrupt. “Especially because you refuse to fucking tell me.” Nia puts on her shoes but she’s looking at you. Her face is expressionless, the water making shadows on it. “It’s not that simple.” “Yes it is. You just have to say it,” you claim and get up. You don't look back to see if she's followed nor do you think you want her to. Either because you don't think she will finally say it or because you're scared of what she will say. You slam the door on your way out. <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Lorcan.|Page 472**]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>“What?” You look at Tom up and down and ask, “is it true what they say about anabolic steroids?” Lorcan looks at Tom and says, “Jesus you can’t see anything there. Probably holds it in his hands to make it bigger.” You grin. “I think there is an epidemic among athletes at school.” “Of steroids or small dicks?”<<set $LorcanP += 1>> You look at Lorcan and he looks at you. “Both,” you say in unison. Tom looks over at you just in time to see you two staring at him and smiling. He whispers in the ear of another boy and points to you. “You know I heard rumours about those two,” Lorcan claims. You feel your smile stretches wide. “What? Fun the locker room?” Lorcan snorts, “even worse. Last year at this party those two apparently snuck out to the backyard and played naked and Bobby taught Tom how to play the flute.” “I thought Tom had a girlfriend?” you say. Lorcan smirks. “He does.” Your eyes widen, “ohhhhh scandal.” “You’re such a gossipy bitch,” you banter. [[NEXT|Page 474-P**]] </h3>

<h3>Lorcan’s expression of anger quickly transforms into shock and incredulity. He starts shaking his head and random sounds of disagreement come from his mouth. But then he looks back at the boys and lets out a low growl. “Ah, fuck me.”<<set $LorcanRF += 2>> He starts stomping his way to the dance floor. You take that as a ‘yes’ so you follow. It’s much easier for Lorcan to get through the crowd than you given that he pushes, shoulder checks and shoves without even trying to ask people if they can move. He stops right under the chandelier and sulks. When you come up in front of him he has his arms crossed and his glaring at everything around him. You find it... cute. You shake your head from that odd thought and take a step forward. “Do you even know how to dance?” you ask.<<set $rescueL to true>> “Of course I fucking do,” he immediately answers. “I just don’t dance in places like this.” You smile, “I thought the only dancing people did at punk shows was fist pumping and head nodding because they were trying too hard to be cool.” The corners of Lorcan’s mouth pull towards and he might be seconds away from hitting you. “I didn’t mean you,” you clarify. It’s hard talking to him without being snarky but since he takes everything you say literally you realized you have to be more genuine if you want to get on his good side. Lorcan lets his arms fall to his sides and says, “ok how do you do this shit?” The music is far too upbeat to dance with Lorcan in a way that won’t embarrass him but you figure he would lose it if it were a slow song and he had to touch you. But also, you’ve never danced in your life. “I don’t really know,” you admit. “Then why did you ask me?” he asks exasperated. [[NEXT|Page 474-F**]] </h3>

<h3>“Since when you do tell me what to do as-” You’re already walking away and you smirk when you’re halfway down the hall and you hear his heavy boot slap against the floor.<<set $rescueL to true>> He catches up with you and glares at you but you just ignore him and head for the entrance. The night air has gone down severely in temperature since you arrived. A few people mull around the large porch, mostly couples and smokers. They watch you pass by but disinterestedly look away. You sit on a brick ledge and tuck your hands into your armpits. Lorcan walks up and hesitates for a second before sitting down next to you. He makes sure to keep his distance as always but the space isn’t that big between you. You watch both of your breaths blow in the air. While you're starting to shiver, Lorcan looks at home. His hands are going pink from the cold but his jacket is unzipped and he casually takes out a cigarette and lights it. He has a specific way of smoking that you never noticed. He makes the scissor sign with his fingers and each time he takes a drag his fingers touch his lips. He sighs and takes out his pack. He jerks it towards you. “You don't have to stare at me like a creep if you want one.” <<set $LorcanRA += 1>> <hr>\ * [[Take it.|Page 474-A**][$smoke to true]] * [[Don’t.|Page 474-A**]] </h3>

<h3>“I wanted to get you away from those guys,” you point behind you. “I don’t want you arrested tonight.” Lorcan’s pinched expression changes and he clears his throat several times. “I mean yeah you guys need me. I’m the muscle. That pansy ass rich boy won’t be able to save you guys in a fight.” “Is that why he always beats you?” you ask with a smile. Lorcan’s face lowers and you curse at yourself for once again making fun of- “Hey I let him win. You gotta let the rich think they’re on top for the revolution,” Lorcan replies. You raise an eyebrow and look at his lips. He’s trying to maintain a straight face in spite of wanting to smile. “You’re a regular Che Guevara,” you joke. “How’s that?” You just shake your head and start swaying. Lorcan looks down at your feet and tries to mimic your movements. He starts bopping his head and you follow and it isn’t the best dance moves anyone has ever seen but you don’t like idiots. When the song ends you expect him to walk back to the stereo and glare at everyone again but he stays with you and when you take a step closer he doesn’t away, he doesn’t even flinch. He just bops his head at you. You move around in a circle and although people stare neither of you seems to care. You stop thinking of what the rest think and enjoy the music, enjoy the movement of your body and enjoy him. [[NEXT|Page 475-F**]] </h3>

<h3>He follows your every move. His eyes travel from your feet, up your legs, zig-zag along your torso and settle on your face. He doesn't seem aware of what he's doing. But his eyes seem to notice it all. He does it over and over again like he can't get enough of what he sees. “This isn’t bad,” you suddenly say. “What isn’t?” he asks distracted by your hands. “Me and you,” you reply. Lorcan’s eyes go to yours and he blinks slowly. “You and me?” “//You and me//?” he repeats, his nose wrinkling. “There’s you and me.” You stop dancing and say, “you always do this. Every time I say something that implies we like each other’s presence-” “When all this shit is over I’m leaving this shitty and never talking to anyone here ever again. Especially not ‘’you,’’’’ he spits out. You jerk your chin and ask with clenched teeth, “and why is that? Huh? Say it Lorcan I want you to say it.” He takes a step closer and whispers furiously, “you fucking know why! I’ve you had kept your fucking mouth shut-” “Oh my god this again?” you interrupt. “That wasn’t my fault! Your dad was psycho-” He pushes you. You bump into a group behind you and they push you forward. Lorcan’s look of disgust, the one you know, the one reserved for you is on his face again, replacing the carefree one he had had. “I don’t want to kill you anymore but you fucked up my life,” he attests as he starts walking backwards. <<if $tname>>“And I will never __forgive__ you for that, $tname,” he promises and the crowd swallows him up.<<else>>“And I will never __forgive__ you for that, $name,” he promises and the crowd swallows him up.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Nia.|Page 472*]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3><<if $smoke>>\ “I’m fucking freezing anyway,” you claim. You take one and Lorcan scoots over to cup his hand from where the wind is coming. You taste the smoky tobacco and even though it’s hard for you to hold the cigarette with your stiff fingers at least your mouth and chest feel warm. “You owe me a dollar,” he says. You snort, “are you that broke?” He kicks your shin. “You’re not doing that good either from what I heard. You’ll have to move in next door.” “And meet that lovely grandma of yours,” you remark. He raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” You feel a mischievous smile form on your face. “She does have a big mouth though.” His eyes open even wider, “you’re shitting me.” You shrug. “You also have a big mouth maybe you should go to therapy cause that obsession you have with me...” you trail off. He snorts. “You have an obsession with me. You’re always tryin’ to talk to me. Tryin’ to be around me. Fucking weirdo.” You roll your eyes and raise your bent leg on the ledge to turn towards him. “Because we're the same type of trash. Even though you hate to admit it and I don't like it that much either. But there is no one in town like us.” Lorcan shook his head as you spoke. Taking out his cigarette he says, “mhhmmm, nope. AND if that was true doesn’t mean we have to be friends.” You scoff. “Who says anything about friends? AND if I wanted that why would it be so impossible? ‘Cause like it or not you don’t exactly hate being around me either,” you poke him in the chest. Lorcan looks at you with shock and spits his cigarette out. He stands up and swivels to face. “Why? You’re seriously asking me why? Did your craziness make you lose brain cells?” You throw out your cigarette too and stand up, coming so close to him your breaths mingle in the cold. <<else>>\ You shake your head. “Rather not get cancer.” He rolls his eyes. “We're all gonna die of something one day.” “I rather not die from a horrible disease. Also rich. It wouldn't be bad to die rich,” you say. “I'd have to sell a five hundred bucks worth of weed to even get to the rich rich of this town,” he admits. You snort, “are you that broke?” He kicks your shin. “You’re not doing that good either from what I heard. You’ll have to move in next door.” “And meet that lovely grandma of yours,” you remark. He raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” You feel a mischievous smile form on your face. “She does have a big mouth though.” His eyes open even wider, “you’re shitting me.” You shrug. “You also have a big mouth maybe you should go to therapy cause that obsession you have with me...” you trail off. He snorts. “You have an obsession with me. You’re always tryin’ to talk to me. Tryin’ to be around me. Fucking weirdo.” You roll your eyes and raise your bent leg on the ledge to turn towards him. “Because we're the same type of trash. Even though you hate to admit it and I don't like it that much either. But there is no one in town like us.” Lorcan shook his head as you spoke. Taking out his cigarette he says, “mhhmmm, nope. AND if that was true doesn’t mean we have to be friends.” You scoff. “Who says anything about friends? AND if I wanted that why would it be so impossible? ‘Cause like it or not you don’t exactly hate being around me either,” you poke him in the chest. Lorcan looks at you with shock and spits his cigarette out. He stands up and swivels to face. “Why? You’re seriously asking me why? Did your craziness make you lose brain cells?” You stand up, coming so close to him your breaths mingle in the cold. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 475-A**]] </h3>

<h3>Staring him down you say, “you still have that stupid idea that I killed your mom, right?” “It’s not a stupid idea! That’s what you did!” he asserts. You let out a small laugh. “So you’re mom was hoeing around on your fucked up violent piece of shit dad and somehow that’s my f-” Lorcan shoves you so hard you fall backwards, hitting the hard ground with your ass. He stands over you, looking down at you with disgust and fury. “Don’t ever speak about my mom like that again, you bitch.” You get up and push him hard enough that he stumbles but doesn't fall. The couples around you stop their chattering and look. “Maybe if you stopped being such a momma’s boy you could see that she was going to get herself killed anyway! How was I supposed to know?!” you explode. Lorcan spits on the ground and leaves, going back inside. You feel impotent and you won’t have him have the last word. You yell out, “I can’t read minds you dick! But your dad made the wrong choice! He fucked up your life!” He throws the door open, letting it slam against a wall and disappears. <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Nia.|Page 472*]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>“Yeah and you love it,” he responds. You laugh and slightly kick him. Lorcan bumps your shoulder. “People like to talk and talk and talk shit when they’re high. I pretty much know most of the shit the no-name brand Hapsburgs do.” “You could make a business out of that,” you suggest. Lorcan makes a face. “Nah, I don't want the drama. Anyway the shit the rich are embarrassed about is normal shit we folks do down in the Cam all the time.” You nod. “What about me? Do you know anything scandalous about me?” You said in a joking manner but Lorcan suddenly gets serious. “Everyone already knows the shit you’ve done.” Your eyebrows raise. “Really? Well maybe we shouldn’t talk about that since we’re having a good time.” “Why the fuck not? Everyone else’s shit is fun to laugh about but not yours?” he asks with a hardness tone. You exhale. “Because... you get like this.” You gesture to him. He moves away from the stereo and turns to face you. “Like what?” he asks, annoyed. [[NEXT|Page 475-P**]] </h3>

<h3>You push off the stereo too. You look him straight in the eyes and say, “I like being around you. I like the idea that you can be my friend but we can’t be friends if you can’t accept that I have nothing to do with the shit that’s happened to you.” Lorcan glares at you and moves back to create more distance. “After all this fucking time you can’t admit that you aren’t an angel like you pretend to be.” You raise your arms, your palms open, “since when did I say that? I’m far from perfect! I’m just not going to take the blame for something your abusive dad did to you and your mom!” “If you had shut your mouth everything would've been fine! My mom would still be alive and my dad would be here not rotting in prison forever!“ he accuses, jabbing a finger at you. You smile sadly and shake your head. “What?” Lorcan asks venomously. Crossing your arms you say, “I think you’re scared of admitting I’m right because then you would have to accept you like having me around. That I’m the first real friend you’ve ever had so you do this.” Lorcan sneers. “I’m doing anything.” You just nod sarcastically and walk away. You say lowly, “sure.” <hr>\ * [[See Imre.|Page 472]] * [[See Nia.|Page 472*]] * [[Be done.|Page 476]] </h3>

<h3>“I didn’t know she had a middle name,” Nia says to herself. Imre flips to the next and at first you think you just can’t read her handwriting, you move the small table lamp closer. But even then you can’t read a single word. “Upon further inspection, it seems that your mother knew a different language,” Imre concludes. Imre flips through more pages and he nods, his fingers slightly drumming on the table. “Looks like Klingon,” Lorcan says. You all look at him. “What? Star Trek? Spock? Space?” Lorcan asks. “You’re just saying shit,” Nia says and takes the book in her hands. “It’s not that. I think I’ve seen this alphabet before,” Imre ponders. “I was into dead languages for a while, this looks like something I might’ve chanced upon in my studies.” “I’ll have to look into it further,” he says and tries to grab the diary but Nia holds it away from him. “Nia,” Imre intones. “I can keep it just fine,” she attests. “I’m the one who has the books. You think you’re father being as controlling as he is won’t figure out what you’re obsessively reading through if you keep it with?” Imre asks with an irate tone that you’ve never seen him use with her. Nia looks at him with contempt. “You really want to talk about control? The only reason you’re doing this is for the massive hard-on you have for chasing the next thrill. You don’t give a shit about anyone, dead or alive. You would throw all of us away if it meant you being the only one who gets the credit for solving this.” Imre laughs and starts walking away from the table. [[NEXT|Page 478]] </h3>

<h3>“Come on, Imre. Why don’t we start being honest for ONCE?” she insists. Lorcan steps up and says, “OK, guys maybe we should calm down.” Nia turns to him like he’s a venomous snake poised to attack her. “And //you//? Doing all of this for a girl who never loved you. She used you as her attack dog because she knew you were so stupidly in love that all she had to do was give you crumbs of affection for you to drool all over and crawl after her.” Lorcan looks stunned for a moment but quickly his nostrils flare and he takes a menacing step towards her, “what the fuck did you just say to me you bitch?” <hr>\ * [[Agree with Imre.|Page 479]] * [[Agree with Nia.|Page 479*]] * [[Agree with Lorcan.|Page 479**]] </h3>

<h3>“Are you as stupid as you’re poor?” she responds. “Imre’s right,” you chime in before Lorcan raises his fist. Nia cold glare penetrates you. “Why? Because he says so? Or because he’s got you completely wrapped around his finger?” “That’s not true,” you say with force. Nia gestures up and down your body. “Isn’t it? Look at you. You allow him to decide nearly everything and even things you think are your idea are somehow always in his favour because that’s what he does. After everything I told you about him I can’t believe you would fall so easily.” “She’s kind of right,” Lorcan says while rubbing his neck. <<if $tname>>“No she’s not,” Imre interjects. “$tname is just the only person here who understands the gravity of what we’re dealing with. We have no time to play out personal traumas here.”<<else>>“No she’s not,” Imre interjects. “$name is just the only person here who understands the gravity of what we’re dealing with. We have no time to play out personal traumas here.”<</if>> “Maybe you should listen to your own advice then,” she replies. <hr>\ * [[Insult Nia.|Page 480*]] * [[Insult Lorcan.|Page 480**]] * [[Continue watching.|Page 480***]] </h3>

<h3>“Are you as stupid as you’re poor?” she responds. “Nia’s right,” you respond. “It’s her mother’s diary she should be allowed to keep it.” Imre sighs. “I’m in little mood for bias. I thought you would be more impartial given everything we’ve been through.” You narrow your eyes. “It’s not that. I can think for myself. Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean someone else is manipulating me.” “This is idiotic,” Imre says. “As much as I hate him, he’s right,” Lorcan says. “He should keep it.” “Shut up, Lorcan,” you and Nia say in unison. * [[Insult Imre.|Page 480]] * [[Insult Lorcan.|Page 480**]] * [[Continue watching.|Page 480***]] </h3>

<h3>“Are you as stupid as you’re poor?” she responds. “Lorcan’s right,” you say before he can lift his fist. “We should all calm down.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>Lorcan looks at you strangely before nodding to the others. “Yeah what she said.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>Lorcan looks at you strangely before nodding to the others. “Yeah what he said.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>Lorcan looks at you strangely before nodding to the others. “Yeah what they said.”<</if>> “So now you two decide to get along? At least agree that my proposition is the most logical,” Imre says. “Don’t you mean the most beneficial?” Nia corrects. “To you.” “It’s just a diary,” he insists. “No it’s not,” she insists. “Stop acting like kids,” you interject. “How is it that me and Lorcan are somehow the most reasonable right now?” “Hey, I can be reasonable,” Lorcan says. “You’re not being reasonable. You’re being a contrarian because you’ve been spending too much time getting influenced by him,” Imre states. You raise an eyebrow, “excuse me? I'm an adult. I'm not impressionable. I can make my own opinions and even though Lorcan and I haven't gotten along in the past I can admit when he's right.” “That’s your idea of right?” Imre asks condescendingly. “It’s not an opinion to be a fence-sitter,” Nia says. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Leave her the fuck alone,” Lorcan says. You look at him in surprise and he looks just as surprised as you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Leave him the fuck alone,” Lorcan says. You look at him in surprise and he looks just as surprised as you.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Leave them the fuck alone,” Lorcan says. You look at him in surprise and he looks just as surprised as you.<</if>> <hr>\ * [[Insult Imre.|Page 480]] * [[Insult Nia.|Page 480*]] * [[Continue watching.|Page 480***]] </h3>

<h3>“Oh suddenly you’re Ms. Perfect!” you burst out. Nia jerks her head towards you. “I don’t think that. You’re just pissed at me and want to think the worst just to feel like the victim, like you’ve been wronged.” “I have!” you explode. “I didn’t leave you! I would have never done that! But you dropped me the first chance you got! Was that your plan all along? To wait for the perfect moment to throw me aside like trash for your richer friends?” Her eyes narrow. “If that’s what you think then you don’t know me at all.” You nod, “no I don't. The Nia that I knew would've stuck by me or at the very least not acted like a pussy and told me upfront that you didn't want to be friends anymore. But you didn't! Guess you're not as honest and ballsy as you brag to be.” She scoffs without mirth and just looks at you as if you’re a petulant child. She opens her mouth and asks slowly, “have you ever thought that for the first time ever I thought of me before you? Is that so wrong? Or do you think friendship is only supposed to cater to you?” Lorcan looks at anywhere that isn’t you two meanwhile Imre drums his fingers on his arm. “Obviously we all have issues with each other but now’s not the time,” Imre says impatiently. [[NEXT|Page 481*]] </h3>

<h3>“Who the fuck invited you to the conversation?” you ask Lorcan. He swivels to you and says heatedly, “stuff out of this Crowny. No one needs your shit here.” “My shit? You're the one who acts like he's better than all of us just because you're white trash and you're an orphan. Oh poor Lorcan he's mommy is dead and his daddy is in prison,” you respond cruelly. Lorcan walks towards you and Imre blocks you from his path. Lorcan tries to shove him aside but Imre is taller and has more muscle. “Did you just hear what that fucker said?” Lorcan asks Imre angrily. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“I heard,” he replies calmly. “But you’re not going to touch her.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“I heard,” he replies calmly. “But you’re not going to touch him.”<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“I heard,” he replies calmly. “But you’re not going to touch them.”<</if>> “Why not?” you ask. “Maybe it’s time. We all know Lorcan wishes I would’ve died instead of Orla. Someone who would’ve left him the minute she went away to college.” “Shut up!” he screams and tries to grab at you. You laugh and step further away, Imre’s body still acting as a shield. “You know how many guys liked her? You really think someone as vapid as my sister would've settled just for you when she could have anyone?” “I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!” “I’M JUST SAYING THE TRUTH!” you argue. “She didn’t know how to love other people! And the fact that you were with someone like her goes to show how much of a fucking two-faced asshole you are!” [[NEXT|Page 481**]] </h3>

<h3>“Nia, stop talking,” he warns. <<if $tname>>She smiles vacantly. “So when it’s about you it doesn’t count as personal trauma? Why don’t we tell $tname why you’re really doing this?”<<else>>She smiles vacantly. “So when it’s about you it doesn’t count as personal trauma? Why don’t we tell $name why you’re really doing this?”<</if>> Imre glowers at her for the first time ever. “Stop it, please.” You feel yourself getting angry. You want to remain a calm and detached part but all their tensions seem to be affecting you. Anger did always come so easy, out of all emotions. “Didn't you say we're a team? All three of us know why we're doing this, it's only fair that our leader finally explains that everything he does is about his major daddy issues,” Nia declares. “Obviously we all have issues with each other but now’s not the time,” Imre says coldly. “I don’t know maybe it’s fucking time to get all this shit out in the open,” Lorcan says. “We all hate each other anyway.” “Then what’s the point? Let’s just do our own stuff and stop having to stand each other,” Nia suggests. “I’m not going to let you leave with-” “‘Let me?’ You’re not-” “You know what give me the fucking book you rich fu-” And suddenly it's just all too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. “I’m the one who got publicly humiliated in front of everyone while all three of you watched!” you scream. “Did anyone of think of me?! All of you are just thinking about yourselves! We’re not a group we’re barely a team! I’m not sure if anyone would help me if we were running from the killer. Fuck! Any of you would probably think it would help you get away!” you accuse. Taking a deep breath you lower your voice and condemn, “and at least I’m not a hypocrite.” They just stare at you as you finish. Lorcan is the only one who has the decency to look down. You lift your arms, “what? Got nothing to say now?” Nia shoves the book in her bag, “fuck this.” She walks out of the room. “Nia!” Imre says and goes after her. Lorcan looks at you and then walks out of the room too, in the opposite direction. You rub your face and sit down, covering your eyes and breathing in and out as you feel the trickling of a migraine coming on. [[NEXT|Page 482]] </h3>

<h3>“I don’t know maybe it’s fucking time to get all this shit out in the open,” Lorcan says. “We all hate each other anyway.” “Then what’s the point? Let’s just do our own stuff and stop having to stand each other,” Nia suggests. “I’m not going to let you leave with-” “‘Let me?’ You’re not-” “You know what give me the fucking book you rich fu-” <<if $Worth is > 5>>\ And suddenly it's just all too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. “I’m the one who got publicly humiliated in front of everyone while all three of you watched!” you scream. “Did anyone of think of me?! All of you are just thinking about yourselves! We’re not a group we’re barely a team! I’m not sure if anyone would help me if we were running from the killer. Fuck! Any of you would probably think it would help you get away!” you accuse. Taking a deep breath you lower your voice and condemn, “and at least I’m not a hypocrite. I don’t pretend to do this for an other reason than why I’m doing it. I matter here just like the rest of you whether you like that or not.” They just stare at you as you finish. Lorcan is the only one who has the decency to look down. You lift your arms, “what? Got nothing to say now?” <<else>>\ And it all feels like too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. You watch these kids you’ve known all your life and realize that to them you’re nothing. You can’t even be angry at them because if so many people see you as worthless than they can’t all be wrong? Why try to fight against your lot in life? It's not as if anyone is fighting for you. “You know what? Give me the damn book I can do this!” Lorcan yells. Imre laughs, “this is no time for jokes Lorcan.” “I WASN’T JOKING MOTHERFUCKER!" <</if>> Nia shoves the book in her bag, “fuck this.” She walks out of the room. “Nia!” Imre says and goes after her. Lorcan looks at you and then walks out of the room too, in the opposite direction. You rub your face and sit down, covering your eyes and breathing in and out as you feel the trickling of a migraine coming on. [[NEXT|Page 482]] </h3>

<h3>“Obviously we all have issues with each other but now’s not the time,” Imre says impatiently. “I don’t know maybe it’s fucking time to get all this shit out in the open,” Lorcan says. “We all hate each other anyway.” “Then what’s the point? Let’s just do our own stuff and stop having to stand each other,” Nia suggests. “I’m not going to let you leave with-” “‘Let me?’ You’re not-” “You know what give me the fucking book you rich fu-” <<if $Worth is > 5>>\ And suddenly it's just all too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. “I’m the one who got publicly humiliated in front of everyone while all three of you watched!” you scream. “Did anyone of think of me?! All of you are just thinking about yourselves! We’re not a group we’re barely a team! I’m not sure if anyone would help me if we were running from the killer. Fuck! Any of you would probably think it would help you get away!” you accuse. Taking a deep breath you lower your voice and condemn, “and at least I’m not a hypocrite. I don’t pretend to do this for an other reason than why I’m doing it. I matter here just like the rest of you whether you like that or not.” They just stare at you as you finish. Lorcan is the only one who has the decency to look down. You lift your arms, “what? Got nothing to say now?” <<else>>\ And it all feels like too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. You watch these kids you’ve known all your life and realize that to them you’re nothing. You can’t even be angry at them because if so many people see you as worthless than they can’t all be wrong? Why try to fight against your lot in life? It's not as if anyone is fighting for you. “You know what? Give me the damn book I can do this!” Lorcan yells. Imre laughs, “this is no time for jokes Lorcan.” “I WASN’T JOKING MOTHERFUCKER!" <</if>> Nia shoves the book in her bag, “fuck this.” She walks out of the room. “Nia!” Imre says and goes after her. Lorcan looks at you and then walks out of the room too, in the opposite direction. You rub your face and sit down, covering your eyes and breathing in and out as you feel the trickling of a migraine coming on. [[NEXT|Page 482]] </h3>

<h3>“Who even made you the leader? I thought we were in this together?” you ask Imre. “I’m not the leader but I am the only one who seems to have any idea about all of this while you three are slowing me down. Maybe I should’ve done this investigation alone,” he replies. You snort. “Please, you need us. For whatever fucking reason you need us but you’re too up your own ass to accept it. You think you’re //so// smart, above the rest of us but wouldn’t know jack shit without our help.” Imre smiles. “Do you think just because you talk the loudest and curse, that that means you're right? Perhaps your brother kept you too sheltered but that isn't how the world works.” You let out a fake laugh. “And you know how else the world doesn’t work? Using people left and right. Manipulating them just to throw them away when you don’t need them. You made everyone believe that you’re this good man but you would sell your own mom out to get what you want because that’s how truly selfish and shitty you are!” Imre’s smile sharpens and he says in a voice that sounds unlike his own, “don’t dare mention my mother again.” [[NEXT|Page 481]] </h3>

<h3>“Or what?” you shrug. “You’ll ruin my social life? As if I have any. There’s nothing you or your fucking piece of shit dad can do to me that I haven’t been through.” “Obviously we all have issues with each other but now’s not the time,” Imre says ignoring you completely. “I don’t know maybe it’s fucking time to get all this shit out in the open,” Lorcan says. “We all hate each other anyway.” “Then what’s the point? Let’s just do our own stuff and stop having to stand each other,” Nia suggests. “I’m not going to let you leave with-” “‘Let me?’ You’re not-” “You know what give me the fucking book you rich fu-” <<if $Worth > 5>>\ And suddenly it's just all too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. “I’m the one who got publicly humiliated in front of everyone while all three of you watched!” you scream. “Did anyone of think of me?! All of you are just thinking about yourselves! We’re not a group we’re barely a team! I’m not sure if anyone would help me if we were running from the killer. Fuck! Any of you would probably think it would help you get away!” you accuse. Taking a deep breath you lower your voice and condemn, “and at least I’m not a hypocrite. I don’t pretend to do this for an other reason than why I’m doing it. I matter here just like the rest of you whether you like that or not.” They just stare at you as you finish. Lorcan is the only one who has the decency to look down. You lift your arms, “what? Got nothing to say now?” <<else>>\ And it all feels like too much. Just like when your parents used to fight. You and your siblings at the sidelines not being heard; they forgot you exist. You watch these kids you’ve known all your life and realize that to them you’re nothing. You can’t even be angry at them because if so many people see you as worthless than they can’t all be wrong? Why try to fight against your lot in life? It's not as if anyone is fighting for you. “You know what? Give me the damn book I can do this!” Lorcan yells. Imre laughs, “this is no time for jokes Lorcan.” “I WASN’T JOKING MOTHERFUCKER!" <</if>> Nia shoves the book in her bag, “fuck this.” She walks out of the room. “Nia!” Imre says and goes after her. Lorcan looks at you and then walks out of the room too, in the opposite direction. You rub your face and sit down, covering your eyes and breathing in and out as you feel the trickling of a migraine coming on. [[NEXT|Page 482]] </h3>

<h3>When you finally leave the library it's nearing 11 o'clock and the party shows no signs of slowing down. However, fewer people are wandering around the hallways. You do hear certain noises as you pass by closed doors but those are par for course with horny teens. You walk around aimlessly, avoiding running into party-goers and frankly, you don't fancy running into Imre, Nia or Lorcan at this moment. But your life has the habit of doing that which you don’t desire. You bump into Lorcan coming out of a random guest room. When he sees you he’s surprised for a second before saying, “you need to find Nia.” “Do I?” you ask. “We’re all doing it. We can’t leave this party without figuring out what we’re going to do next,” he says. “Was that Imre’s idea?” Lorcan’s mouth twists in annoyance but he just says, “it was me. He wanted to find her tomorrow and convince her or something.” He hands you a flashlight. Its weight surprises you. The steel feels cold. You run your thumb along the grooves. “I’m going around the house, Imre is looking out in front and asking the drivers and you should go check the backyard,” he proposes. “And if I don’t find her?” Lorcan shrugs. “Beats me. We'll just fucking met up or something I can't think up all the ideas, shit.” He leaves you and you head back to the backyard. [[NEXT|Page 483]] </h3>

<h3>You don't know what you expected from the backyard but it wasn't this. There is a fountain, but as simplistic as could be found in a house this large. No carved angels or monuments. No statues around the area. The brick that makes up the patio is cracked, and weeds sprout through it. The forest encroaches upon the railing surrounding the square-sized patio. The flowers lie sadly on the dried dirt of the brick flowerbeds. It seems no one has touched this place for a very long time. You click on the flashlight and its strong white light can't penetrate that far past the first trees. You look up at the house, your eyes going along the darkened windows there. As your eyes pass the third window you see something by the curtains. You look back and see fingers disappear into the dark. Perhaps a party-goer? But why would they be in a dark room? As you’re thinking this you hear the crunching of dried weeds behind you and turn around to see a man stumble out of the woods. He grabs onto the railing and hunches over. You bring the flashlight up to his face and his eyes squeeze closed. He carries a big bottle of clear liquid and from the light swaying he's doing, you don't think he's drinking water. You lower the flashlight a smidge and he opens his eyes. He blinks and then squints at you. He straightens up and tries to take a step but almost falls over. [[NEXT|Page 484]] </h3>

<h3>“Loo’ who the cat dragged in,” he says bitterly.<<audio "killer" loop play>> “James,” you say flatly. “James,” he ridicules your voice with an affected higher pitch. You raise the flashlight again and he groans, covering his face. “Turn that shit off.” “No I don’t think I will,” you reply. He chortles and leans against the railing. “So now you got balls huh? ‘Cause you looked like you were ‘bout to cry in there,” he slurs. You grip the flashlight. You think about going back inside, the last thing you need is another round of insults. He must be even worse when he’s drunk. “Sooooo,” he hiccups. “How did yo’ like ma story?” “Leave me alone,” you demand. He lets go of the railing and points at you, or well in your general vicinity. “Don’t play the fuckin’ victim you fuckin’ deserved that shit fuckin’ fuck.” “I’ve never done anything to you, you’re just an asshole,” you claim. James starts laughing, throwing his head back. It makes him stumble and he nearly drops the bottle. He looks at it and brings it to his mouth, taking a large gulp. He wipes his lips and takes an unbalanced step forward. “Yeah? You think that fuckin’ picture of my dick was nothin’? No bitches even want to talk to me anymore after that and my fuckin’ friends bring it up all the fuckin’ time!” Your eyebrows bunch together. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I KNOW IT WAS FUCKIN’ YOU!” he accuses and takes out a piece of paper from the pocket of his cheap toga. He holds it up and you point your light at it. It isn’t paper. It’s the infamous Polaroid of his genitals that was spread around the school. “What does that have to do wi-” He turns it around and points to the writing on the back. Your eyes widen. “Now you try to fuckin’ deny it,” he dares. //We all have something to hide, don’t we? Some are big and some are ''little.''// It’s not signed but you could recognize your handwriting. <hr>\ * [[Admit it.|Page 485]] * [[Claim he’s lying.|Page 485*]] * [[You don’t know.|Page 485**]] </h3>

<h3>You lower your eyebrows and smile. “It was an easy pun, wasn't it?” “You fuckin’ piece of shit, you thin’ it’s funny?” he questions, his voice rising. Your smile grows sharper, “I think it was hilarious. It wasn’t that hard for me to get either. I just had to watch for a few days and it stood out to me that you wait until nearly all the boys are gone to shower. I just didn’t know you had such a small surprise for me.” “Shut the fuck up,” he says angrily and takes another step forward. You take a step back but lazily as if you couldn’t be bothered to muster up fear. “Or what? Will you prank call my house? Throw eggs at it? Graffiti the walls?” He pauses. “How did you kno’ that?” <<set $seconds to 5>> You roll your eyes. “Like you were so ingenious with it. One of the employees saw you once and told Sally. I didn’t tell him who it was of course.” “You’re welcome,” you add. “You always do some crazy shit. And no one ever does shit to you because they’re all pussies and your family thinks it’s hot shit,” he claims. “James-” “I get back at you and I get thrown out of the party by that prick and his little bitch? Then fuckin’ Lorcan tries to beat my ass? What the fuck is the world comin’ to when a nothin’ like you gets to fuck with someone like me!” he comes closer. “James-” “But imma teach you a lesson, a real fuckin’ lesson you’ll never forget,” he promises. Before you can react he throws the bottle to your sheet. It smashes and over legs get bathed with the sharp-smelling alcohol. When you look up your light shines on the large knife in his hand. [[NEXT|Page 486]] </h3>

<h3>You shake your head. “No, you're lying. You're just trying to justify your bullying.” <<set $seconds to 5>> “You fuckin’ piece of shit, I saw the way you write in CLASS!” he argues. You keep shaking your head. “How could I go into the boy’s locker room without anyone seeing me? Also, it would be stupid of me to write that knowing that you could find out it was me.” “IT WAS YOU!” he accuses, and takes another step closer. You take a step back, apprehension fills you. He’s very drunk and he’s very angry. “Do you really think you’re that great that no one else would hate you? I’m probably at the back of the line of people who have something against you. Fuck, you might’ve wrote that just to fuck with me..” “Yeah you thin’ I would egg your house and threaten you on the phone if I had done this shit?” he asks. You pause. “So it was really you.” One of the few employees your family had left before they quit said they saw a boy run from the house when they took the trash out. When they described the boy he sounded familiar. “And this shit was you!” he points at the picture. “No, it wasn't,” you say in a resolutely hardened voice. “You always do some crazy shit. And no one ever does shit to you because they’re all pussies and your family thinks it’s hot shit,” he claims. “James-” “I get back at you and I get thrown out of the party by that prick and his little bitch? Then fuckin’ Lorcan tries to beat my ass? What the fuck is the world comin’ to when a nothin’ like you gets to fuck with someone like me!” he comes closer. “James-” “But imma teach you a lesson, a real fuckin’ lesson you’ll never forget,” he promises. Before you can react he throws the bottle to your sheet. It smashes and over legs get bathed with the sharp-smelling alcohol. When you look up your light shines on the large knife in his hand. [[NEXT|Page 486*]] </h3>

<h3>Your expression becomes even more puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You fuckin’ piece of shit, I have your fuckin’ handwriting here and you really want to act dumb?!” he yells. You look at the handwriting again. It does so much like yours. But... you don’t remember doing that. You couldn’t have done that. Could you?<<set $seconds to 5>> You look into his face and you realize it was him all this time. The phone calls, the egging of your house, the graffiti. Before they quit, an old employee of the house had claimed they saw a strange boy rounding the house. When they described him, you felt as if his name was on the tip of your tongue. “I don’t know anything about that,” you claim uncertainly. James grows angrier and takes a step closer. You take a step back. “You always do some crazy shit. And no one ever does shit to you because they’re all pussies and your family thinks it’s hot shit,” he claims. “James-” “I get back at you and I get thrown out of the party by that prick and his little bitch? Then fuckin’ Lorcan tries to beat my ass? What the fuck is the world comin’ to when a nothin’ like you gets to fuck with someone like me!” he comes closer. “James-” “But imma teach you a lesson, a real fuckin’ lesson you’ll never forget,” he promises. Before you can react he throws the bottle to your sheet. It smashes and over legs get bathed with the sharp-smelling alcohol. When you look up your light shines on the large knife in his hand. [[NEXT|Page 486**]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer6">> You... <hr>\ * [[Throw the flashlight.|Page 487]] * [[Run.|Page 487*]] </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "Death2">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

<h3>You freeze and he tackles you to the ground. The air is blown out of you. He straddles you. You know you should move but you're body won't cooperate. He bends over you and starts trailing the knife along your torso. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you'd be a hot chick.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “But trannies are trannies,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “Such a fuckin' waste you wanna be a guy,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <</if>>\ You tilt your head back when the cold of the knife touches your neck. “I’m not going to kill you by the way, I just want to leave somethin’ on you,” his sour breath hits your nose, it makes your stomach churn. “Somethin’ to remind you to stay in your place.” He brings the knife down on your chest. And you want to say it hurts when it cuts the epidermis of your skin but maybe the shock of what’s happening saves you from the brutality of the pain. You feel wetness spread along your chest and a hollowness as if your organs are being scooped out. You look from the complete surprise on your killer’s face to the twinkling stars above. They seem so close now. So bright. Like signals beckoning to you. Perhaps this is what your sister felt in her last moments. You wonder, can someone like you be accepted as you are wherever you’re headed? Must you ask forgiveness? If this feeling of dying is an indication of what is to come, it won’t be so bad. Right now you feel light. Calm. Free. It’s almost peaceful. °°°°°°° You don't get to see the looks on your friends' faces when they find your body. The way she cries, wishing she could've had more time. The way the brown-haired boy doesn't know what to do. How the blond-haired boy vomits and can't stop shaking all night long. You’re spared from seeing the cry of pain the eldest heir of the Crown family lets out when the police knock on his door. How his other brother sits on the ground and puts his hand in his hands, not knowing why he can’t cry. Your grave is near a tree. In the family plot. Your headstone shows a name, written simply with a common font and lifespan. Not many people go to the funeral. Only five. White flowers lie in a small bundle on top of the fresh earth. Some days it’s said that a white dove sits on the headstone. The murders never do get solved. They accelerate at an unprecedented rate and as the 90s give way to the 00s, the strange small town that only few can find and even less can escape gives into decay. After that, no one hears from it ever again. ''THE END'' Or... ''[[Try Again.|Page 482]]'' </h3>

<h3>It smashes against his nose and he screams. You turn to run but something hits your head from behind and you fall forward, your nose hitting against the brick. You’re flipped over.<<set $seconds to 5>> He straddles you. You try to push him off but you barely manage to move him. You start hitting him; his legs, his stomach but he just slaps your hands away. He bends over you and starts trailing the knife along your torso. As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... You tilt your head back when the cold of the knife touches your neck. “I’m not going to kill you by the way, I just want to leave somethin’ on you,” his sour breath hits your nose, it makes your stomach churn. “Somethin’ to remind you to stay in your place.” He straddles you. You try to push him off but you barely manage to move him. You start hitting him; his legs, his stomach but he just slaps your hands away. He bends over you and starts trailing the knife along your torso. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you'd be a hot chick.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “But trannies are trannies,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “Such a fuckin' waste you wanna be a guy,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <</if>>\ You tilt your head back when the cold of the knife touches your neck. “I’m not going to kill you by the way, I just want to leave somethin’ on you,” his sour breath hits your nose, it makes your stomach churn. “Somethin’ to remind you to stay in your place.” [[NEXT|Page 488]] </h3>

<h3>You run for the stairs. It’s only three and then a few more steps to the door. But you’re nervous, the flashlight moves widely in your hand and you can’t see where you’re stepping. You trip over the third step and fall flat on the ground, your cheek hitting the edge of a cracked brick. <<set $scartwo to true>> You're dragged down the steps, your chin bouncing painfully off the steps. You try to grip the steps but he's stronger and you're fingernails chip against the ground. You’re flipped over.<<set $seconds to 5>> He straddles you. You try to push him off but you barely manage to move him. You start hitting him; his legs, his stomach but he just slaps your hands away. He bends over you and starts trailing the knife along your torso. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you'd be a hot chick.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “But trannies are trannies,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “Such a fuckin' waste you wanna be a guy,” he says. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know... you're not so ugly.” His other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You feel vomit in your mouth. “If you weren't such a psycho...,” he trails off. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ As the tip slides along your sternum he says, “you know I thought this would harder.” “For a guy you're fucking weak,” he says. <</if>>\ You tilt your head back when the cold of the knife touches your neck. “I’m not going to kill you by the way, I just want to leave somethin’ on you,” his sour breath hits your nose, it makes your stomach churn. “Somethin’ to remind you to stay in your place.” [[NEXT|Page 488]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer7">> <hr>\ * [[Stick your finger in his eye.|Page 489]] * [[Knee him between the legs.|Page 489*]] </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "Death3">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

<h3>His face is close enough that you say, “James.” He looks up from dragging the tip of the knife slowly against the notch in your throat. That's all it takes for you to jab your thumb into his eye. He screams, dropping the knife. His eye feels soft under your skin and you feel blood before James sits up. He grabs your wrist and pulls your thumb out of his socket. You try to sit up but uses his other hand to push you against the ground. His other hand covers his eye and he moans, the rivulets of blood roll down his hand. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“YOU BITCH!” he explodes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“YOU FUCKER!” he explodes.<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“YOU FUCKER!” he explodes.<</if>> He brings down the bloody hand and slaps you so hard your neck cracks. Pain bursts along your jaw, your eyes feel like they're rolling around your sockets and your head feels fuzzy.<<set $seconds to 5>> Everything becomes slow. The way he wipes his eye. The air ruffles the leaves over you. The breath expels from your mouth. His hand reaching for the knife. [[NEXT|Page 490]] </h3>

<h3>You raise your knee and slam it into his genitals. He screams and drops the knife, reaching with both hands to the apex of his legs. You sit up and push him off of you. He falls to his back and curls to his side. His eyes are squeezed shut and you hear his whimpers. The knife lies near your feet. You flick your eyes between him and the knife. You look over your shoulder at the house. You look around you. There’s no one here. You could... Leave him here. He’s drunk and an idiot. He’s not worth it. Or, you could end this. ''Now.'' <hr>\ * [[🜒 Kill him.|Page 490*]] <<nobr>> <<if $Imre>>* [[🜥 Leave.|Page 490**]]<<elseif$Nia>>* [[🜥 Leave.|Page 490**]]<<elseif $Lorcan>>*[[🜥 Leave.|Page 490**]]<<else>>* [[🜥 Leave.|Page 490***]]<</if>> <</nobr>> </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer8">> <hr>\ * [[Go for the knife.|Page 491]] * [[Try to yell for help.|Page 491*]] </h3>

<h3>The moment it’s in his hand you grip onto it and try to wrestle it away from him. James tries to push your face away but you bite down on his fingers. He groans and lets go. Your fingers slide against the blade and blood trickles down on both of your hands. James’ eyes widen as he sees the knife sliding out of his hand and into yours. He uses his other hand and attempts to pull the knife back to him. You strain so hard you start using your entire upper body, akin to trying to pry open a locked door. Your shoulders ache and you clench your teeth from screaming. But your blood is too slick and he’s on top of you. You don’t know exactly how it happens. A twist of a wrist, an arm that moved too far, or just plain luck. But the knife slips from your hands and the weight atop you disappears. You let out a loud and long breath. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin. Your fingers shake with the pain from the cuts.<<set $murderer to true>> You wait for a few minutes before slowly sitting up. You almost cry when you use your hands to stand up. You walk over to the body. The knife sticks out from his chest. The blood spreads throughout the whiteness of his toga. His open eyes look up to the sky, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, forever. You.. <hr>\ * [[Sit down.|Page 492][$siit to true]] * [[Laugh.|Page 492*][$laugh to true]] * [[Try to clean it up.|Page 492**][$clean to true]] </h3>

<h3>You open your mouth but James is faster and clamps a hand over your lips. Your scream hits his palm, it's a muffled sad thing. Not even enough to be heard by a passerby. He brings the knife down on your chest. And you want to say it hurts when it cuts the epidermis of your skin but maybe the shock of what’s happening saves you from the brutality of the pain. You feel wetness spread along your chest and a hollowness as if your organs are being scooped out. You look from the complete surprise on your killer’s face to the twinkling stars above. They seem so close now. So bright. Like signals beckoning to you. Perhaps this is what your sister felt in her last moments. You wonder, can someone like you be accepted as you are wherever you’re headed? Must you ask forgiveness? If this feeling of dying is an indication of what is to come, it won’t be so bad. Right now you feel light. Calm. Free. It’s almost peaceful. °°°°°°°° You don't get to see the looks on your friends' faces when they find your body. The way she cries, wishing she could've had more time. The way the brown-haired boy doesn't know what to do. How the blond-haired boy vomits and can't stop shaking all night long. You’re spared from seeing the cry of pain the eldest heir of the Crown family lets out when the police knock on his door. How his other brother sits on the ground and puts his hand in his hands, not knowing why he can’t cry. Your grave is near a tree. In the family plot. Your headstone shows a name, written simply with a common font and lifespan. Not many people go to the funeral. Only five. White flowers lie in a small bundle on top of the fresh earth. Some days it’s said that a white dove sits on the headstone. The murders never do get solved. They accelerate at an unprecedented rate and as the 90s give way to the 00s, the strange small town that only few can find and even less can escape gives into decay. After that, no one hears from it ever again. ''THE END'' Or... ''[[Try Again.|Episode 7: Thriller]]'' </h3>

<span id="countdown">$seconds</span> <<silently>> <<repeat 1s>> <<set $seconds to $seconds - 1>> <<if $seconds gt 0>> <<replace "#countdown">>$seconds<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#countdown">><</replace>> <<goto "Death4">> <<stop>> <</if>> <</repeat>> <</silently>>

<h3>He brings the knife down on your chest. And you want to say it hurts when it cuts the epidermis of your skin but maybe the shock of what’s happening saves you from the brutality of the pain. You feel wetness spread along your chest and a hollowness as if your organs are being scooped out. You look from the complete surprise on your killer’s face to the twinkling stars above. They seem so close now. So bright. Like signals beckoning to you. Perhaps this is what your sister felt in her last moments. You wonder, can someone like you be accepted as you are wherever you’re headed? Must you ask forgiveness? If this feeling of dying is an indication of what is to come, it won’t be so bad. Right now you feel light. Calm. Free. It’s almost peaceful. °°°°°°° You don't get to see the looks on your friends' faces when they find your body. The way she cries, wishing she could've had more time. The way the brown-haired boy doesn't know what to do. How the blond-haired boy vomits and can't stop shaking all night long. You’re spared from seeing the cry of pain the eldest heir of the Crown family lets out when the police knock on his door. How his other brother sits on the ground and puts his hand in his hands, not knowing why he can’t cry. Your grave is near a tree. In the family plot. Your headstone shows a name, written simply with a common font and lifespan. Not many people go to the funeral. Only five. White flowers lie in a small bundle on top of the fresh earth. Some days it’s said that a white dove sits on the headstone. The murders never do get solved. They accelerate at an unprecedented rate and as the 90s give way to the 00s, the strange small town that only few can find and even less can escape gives into decay. After that, no one hears from it ever again. ''THE END'' Or... ''[[Try Again.|Page 482]]'' </h3>

<h3>Your mind quiets as you bend down and take the cold knife in your hand. It feels light. So... light. When traumatic things happen there is a mention of an out-of-body experience. To protect the brain. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't completely aware of what you're doing. You understand the choice you just made. You want it. There’s no room for morality here. James Hewitt cries as he cradles his genitals. He doesn’t notice when you bring the knife down on his neck. The blood spurts onto your face as you pull it out. His mouth opens but he doesn’t make a noise. You bring the knife down again and the skin feels easier to get through. He attempts to reach for the wound but it doesn’t take much to slap his hands away and stab him again. The blood feels hot on your fingers. You taste pennies in your mouth. You take it and push it back in. Again. Again. Again. Again. Human meat looks so much like ground beef if you stab it enough. When he stops twitching you lean back, the knife still clutched in your hand. You killed someone. You ended the life of someone before their time. You became his God. How do you feel? <hr>\ * [[🜒 Nothing.|Page 491**][$nothiing to true]] * [[🜥 Happy.|Page 491***][$happy to true]] * [[🜥 Sad.|Page 491****][$sad to true]] </h3>

<h3>No, you’re not going to become a murderer for this. He doesn’t deserve to fuck up your life forever.<<set $nonmurderer to true>> You leave the knife where it is and walk away. You reach for the handle of the door before you're yanked by back your hair. James' hand grabs your throat as he takes you back down to the patio. He throws you back on the ground. You look to see his eyes. They’re crazed, flitting along your body. He doesn’t look like himself. There doesn’t seem to be a human within him. You straddle you once more and wraps his hands around your neck. You can't even make a squeak of pain. Blood rushes to your face. It throbs like a broken finger. The bones in your neck crack under the force of his fingers.<<set $Ethical += 1>> Your heart pounds in your ears and you have no strength as you try to pry his hands off of you. You’re going to die. He’s going to kill you. You’ll die as you lived, alone. You close your eyes and wait for whatever comes next. Maybe Heaven. But knowing you’re luck, Hell. You gasp loudly as his hands leave your neck. You flail around like a fish above water. You’re eyes bounce around, not staying anywhere too long. You reach for your throat and start coughing. Your eyes water and it’s likely the closest you’ve ever been to crying. Your throat aches as you enter into a coughing fit, hitting your chest with your fist. You swallow the little saliva you have left in your mouth and breathe in and out. When you look over at James you see something that takes you a moment to understand. <<if $Imre>>\ “Imre?” you say. He straddles James as the latter did to you. You stand up, clutching your neck and walk over. James' hands loosen from Imre's and that's when Imre lets go of his neck. His open eyes look up to the sky, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, forever. Imre inhales and exhales as he looks down at the boy he just killed for you. “Imre?” you say again. Imre looks at you. His face shows nothing. He clears his throat and stands up. He runs a hand through his hair. “We found Nia,” he says simply. “I came looking for you.” “What?” you ask. He tilts his head at you. “How are you?” Your eyes widen. “James-” “Yes, that is an inconvenience. But are you alright?” he asks. Before you can answer he grabs your arm and pulls you to him. He envelops his arms around your midsection and puts his chin on your shoulder. He smells of sweat and cologne. “You almost died,” he says. Before you can move he lets you go just as Nia and Lorcan come through the door. They quickly register you, Imre and James’ body. Nia brings her hand to her mouth.<<set $imrem to true>> Lorcan’s mouth falls open. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $Nia>>\ “Nia?” She’s straddling James. You can’t see exactly what she’s doing. But her arms move above her head and then go down. You stand up, clutching your neck and walk over. James' hands fall to his sides and Nia takes the knife out of his chest. His open eyes look up to the sky, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, forever. Nia wipes her bloody hands on James’ toga. She doesn’t look into the face of the body she killed for you. “Nia?” you say again.<<set $niam to true>> “Give me a second,” she says and fixes her skewed costume. She checks to see if there’s blood on her hair and then throws it over her shoulder. She finally looks at you. She tries to look nonchalant but her hands shake. “I acted stupid. I was looking for you and Lorcan said you were here. He went to find Imre.” Nia looks down at James and takes a step back. She crosses her arms but you can see her trembling. You’ve never seen her so... scared. “Nia-” “Can you touch me?” she asks. You freeze at the request. She looks at you deeply. She’s not begging. She would never do that but she needs this. You walk over to her and try to look at what way you can touch her. She takes your head and leans it against her bony shoulder. It feels uncomfortable, you’re neck is at a strange angle but you don’t move. Before either of you can say anything else the door opens and Imre appears, Lorcan just behind him. Imre looks at James’ body and then looks at Nia. Lorcan is saying something, “I just wanna s-” His eyes widen in shock at the scene. “What the fuck?” he says. “Imre,” Nia says. Imre’s expression is blank as he surveys James’ body. “Did you do this?” he asks Nia. She nods. Imre replies in kind. “Ok, we have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $Lorcan>>\ “Lorcan?” Lorcan jerks as if electrocuted and moves off James’ body. You stand up, clutching your neck and walk over. Lorcan drops the flashlight, the one he gave to you. It falls with a clang. The top is stained with blood. James’ open eyes look up to the sky, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, forever. Lorcan looks paralyzed as he brings up his hands to his face. He just killed someone for you. “Fuck,” Lorcan whispers. “Lorcan?” <<set $lorcanm to true>> “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers nervously as he rubs his hands together. “Lorcan-” He looks up at you as if noticing you’re there. “Crowny?” He looks back down at the body and so do you. Lorcan shakes his head as if he can't believe what he's seeing. When you look at each other again his eyes shine with unshed tears. His lower lip trembles and he rubs his hands. “I didn’t mean to...” he trails. “He was going to kill me,” you reply. You lay a tentative hand on his arm. He barely registers your touch. “He was going to kill you,” he repeats. Just then Imre and Nia walk through the door. They quickly assess you, Lorcan and James’ body. Nia brings her hand to her mouth. Imre’s face is blank as he surveys the body. He sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>He grabs it and brings the knife down on your chest. And you want to say it hurts when it cuts the epidermis of your skin but maybe the shock of what’s happening saves you from the brutality of the pain. You feel wetness spread along your chest and a hollowness as if your organs are being scooped out. You look from the complete surprise on your killer’s face to the twinkling stars above. They seem so close now. So bright. Like signals beckoning to you. Perhaps this is what your sister felt in her last moments. You wonder, can someone like you be accepted as you are wherever you’re headed? Must you ask forgiveness? If this feeling of dying is an indication of what is to come, it won’t be so bad. Right now you feel light. Calm. Free. It’s almost peaceful. °°°°°°° You don't get to see the looks on your friends' faces when they find your body. The way she cries, wishing she could've had more time. The way the brown-haired boy doesn't know what to do. How the blond-haired boy vomits and can't stop shaking all night long. You’re spared from seeing the cry of pain the eldest heir of the Crown family lets out when the police knock on his door. How his other brother sits on the ground and puts his hand in his hands, not knowing why he can’t cry. Your grave is near a tree. In the family plot. Your headstone shows a name, written simply with a common font and lifespan. Not many people go to the funeral. Only five. White flowers lie in a small bundle on top of the fresh earth. Some days it’s said that a white dove sits on the headstone. The murders never do get solved. They accelerate at an unprecedented rate and as the 90s give way to the 00s, the strange small town that only few can find and even less can escape gives into decay. After that, no one hears from it ever again. ''THE END'' Or... ''[[Try Again.|Episode 7: Thriller]]'' </h3>

<h3>You slowly sit down on the ground. You bring your legs to your knees and hug them. Your brain has trouble understanding what just happened. Did you kill someone? Did he kill himself? Does it matter? It’s not like any answer would revive him. You have a dead body in front of you.</h3> <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname,” Imre’s voice says from behind you. <<else>>“$name,” Imre’s voice says from behind you.<</if>> You don’t move. You don’t reply. You can’t. You hear his footsteps coming up behind you and stopping next to you. He walks over to the body and surveys it, his expression is blank as if he were looking at roadkill. “Did you do this?” he asks. You don’t respond. He walks back to you and crouches down in front of you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and Imre’s eyes flick up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Nia and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. You hear her quick footsteps pass you. She looks at James’ body and crouches down. She reaches out and touches his neck. She closes her eyes and moves her hand away. “Birdie, what happened?” she asks softly. You don’t respond. She walks over to you. “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and Nia looks back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You hear his quick footsteps pounding behind you. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clamps his mouth shut. He stands up and comes over to you. He sits down next to you. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. You’re glad he doesn’t finish his question. You don’t think you can speak right now. “Ok, ok. ok. It's going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. From the corner of your eye, you see he is looking at you. “It's going to be ok. Don't worry we'll figure some—” You hear the front door opening and Lorcan shoots up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Nia. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just—” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $ImreP > 1>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname,” Imre’s voice says from behind you. <<else>>“$name,” Imre’s voice says from behind you.<</if>> You don’t move. You don’t reply. You can’t. You hear his footsteps coming up behind you and stopping next to you. He walks over to the body and surveys it, his expression is blank as if he were looking at roadkill. “Did you do this?” he asks. You don’t respond. He walks back to you and crouches down in front of you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and Imre’s eyes flick up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Nia and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $NiaP > 1>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. You hear her quick footsteps pass you. She looks at James’ body and crouches down. She reaches out and touches his neck. She closes her eyes and moves her hand away. “Birdie, what happened?” she asks softly. You don’t respond. She walks over to you. “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and Nia looks back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $LorcanP > 1>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You hear his quick footsteps pounding behind you. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clamps his mouth shut. He stands up and comes over to you. He sits down next to you. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. You’re glad he doesn’t finish his question. You don’t think you can speak right now. “Ok, ok. ok. It's going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. From the corner of your eye, you see he is looking at you. “It's going to be ok. Don't worry we'll figure some—” You hear the front door opening and Lorcan shoots up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Nia. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just—” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>> [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>You did something that should elicit more emotion. Murder is wrong, isn't it? That's what you've been taught.<<set $murderer to true>> But seeing his crumpled dead body there makes you feel the same feeling as watching the dead autumn water-logged leaves stuck to the storm drains. This wasn’t hard at all. <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you. <<else>>“$name?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you.<</if>> You hear his footsteps as he comes up beside you. His eyes lock on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “I killed him,” you say, blasé. He walks over to the body and lightly kicks the hand with his foot, letting it flop back down with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door open. Both of you look over as Nia and Lorcan step onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps, and then she appears at your side. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Yes.” She covers her mouth with her hand, then meets your eyes. Something in your expression makes her falter. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “Of course,” you reply, emotionless. You hear the front door open, and both of you look over as Imre and Lorcan step out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny, we need to—SHIT!” You hear him running, then skidding to a stop next to the body. He crouches down, eyes wide as he takes in what’s left of James. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, voice shaking. You shrug and hold up the knife. “I stabbed him.” Lorcan shoots to his feet. “And you’re just saying it so fucking calmly?!” “Crying won’t bring him back,” you reply. Lorcan grips his hair and mutters under his breath. “This’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” The front door opens, and he whips his head around. Imre and Nia are staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, breathless. “Crowny just—” Lorcan gulps, then tries again. “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $ImreP > 1>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you. <<else>>“$name?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you.<</if>> You hear his footsteps as he comes up beside you. His eyes lock on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “I killed him,” you say, blasé. He walks over to the body and lightly kicks the hand with his foot, letting it flop back down with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door open. Both of you look over as Nia and Lorcan step onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $NiaP > 1>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps, and then she appears at your side. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Yes.” She covers her mouth with her hand, then meets your eyes. Something in your expression makes her falter. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “Of course,” you reply, emotionless. You hear the front door open, and both of you look over as Imre and Lorcan step out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $LorcanP > 1>>\ “Yo, Crowny, we need to—SHIT!” You hear him running, then skidding to a stop next to the body. He crouches down, eyes wide as he takes in what’s left of James. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, voice shaking. You shrug and hold up the knife. “I stabbed him.” Lorcan shoots to his feet. “And you’re just saying it so fucking calmly?!” “Crying won’t bring him back,” you reply. Lorcan grips his hair and mutters under his breath. “This’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” The front door opens, and he whips his head around. Imre and Nia are staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, breathless. “Crowny just—” Lorcan gulps, then tries again. “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>> [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>You smile as if you were just handed everything you’ve ever wanted. Maybe you have. You’ve never killed anyone but you find the feeling is good. You got rid of someone who was tormenting you. Why should you feel bad?<<set $Corrupt += 1>> Not only that but the act of murder itself. Why, you think you like it.<<set $murderer to true>> <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you. <<else>>“$name?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you.<</if>> You hear his footsteps. He comes up next to you. His eyes zero in on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “I killed him,” you say, trying to hide your grin. He goes over to the body. He lightly kicks lifts his hand with his foot and lets it fall with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and both of you look at Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueI>>\ You hear his footsteps. He comes up next to you. His eyes zero in on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “I killed him,” you say, trying to hide your grin. He goes over to the body. He lightly kicks lifts his hand with his foot and lets it fall with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and both of you look at Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps and then you see her from the corner of your eye as she stops next to you. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Well he isn’t sleeping, I can say that much,” you snark. She covers her mouth with her hand. She looks into your eyes and something about your expression makes her look at you strangely. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “Duh,” you reply. You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps and then you see her from the corner of your eye as she stops next to you. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Well he isn’t sleeping, I can say that much,” you snark. She covers her mouth with her hand. She looks into your eyes and something about your expression makes her look at you strangely. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “Duh,” you reply. You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to- SHIT!” You hear him running until he stops next to the body. He crouches down, his wide eyes looking at what’s left of James from head to foot. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, his voice quivering. You wave the knife around. “What do you think?” you ask sarcastically. Lorcan shoots up and looks at you in shock. “And you’re just saying it so fucking calmly?!” “If you want I can pretend to cry but I suck at that,” you reply with a smirk. Lorcan grips his hair and swears under his breath. “This will be ok, everything will be ok,” he whispers to himself. You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to- SHIT!” You hear him running until he stops next to the body. He crouches down, his wide eyes looking at what’s left of James from head to foot. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, his voice quivering. You wave the knife around. “What do you think?” you ask sarcastically. Lorcan shoots up and looks at you in shock. “And you’re just saying it so fucking calmly?!” “If you want I can pretend to cry but I suck at that,” you reply with a smirk. Lorcan grips his hair and swears under his breath. “This will be ok, everything will be ok,” he whispers to himself. You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>A great sorrow begins in the middle of your chest and spreads like wildfire. You killed someone. His blood is on your hands. You ripped the life away from someone. You think about his parents, the way his mother will react when she’s told. The pain you’ve caused will never end for them.<<set $Ethical += 1>> You can't even cry.<<set $murderer to true>> <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you. <<else>>“$name?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you.<</if>> You hear his footsteps. He comes up next to you. His eyes zero in on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “He’s dead,” you whisper. He goes over to the body. He lightly kicks lifts his hand with his foot and lets it fall with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and both of you look at Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you. <<else>>“$name?” Imre’s voice asks from behind you.<</if>> You hear his footsteps. He comes up next to you. His eyes zero in on the knife in your hand. “What happened?” he asks. “He’s dead,” you whisper. He goes over to the body. He lightly kicks lifts his hand with his foot and lets it fall with a smack against the ground. “So it appears,” he replies. “I’ll fix this.” You hear the front door opening and both of you look at Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps and then you see her from the corner of your eye as she stops next to you. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Yeah,” you say, your voice shaky. She covers her mouth with her hand. She looks into your eyes and sees something that makes her touch your arm. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “I’m so sorry,” you falter. You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie?” Nia says from behind you. You hear her steps and then you see her from the corner of your eye as she stops next to you. “Is he dead?” she asks. “Yeah,” you say, your voice shaky. She covers her mouth with her hand. She looks into your eyes and sees something that makes her touch your arm. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “I’m so sorry,” you falter. You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to- SHIT!” You hear him running until he stops next to the body. He crouches down, his wide eyes looking at what’s left of James from head to foot. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, his voice quivering. You let the knife fall. “I can’t believe this,” you say in a low voice. Lorcan shoots up and looks at you. His expression looks worried. “Crowny?” “Why did I do this,” you ask yourself. Lorcan grips his hair and swears under his breath. “This will be ok, everything will be ok,” he whispers to himself. You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to- SHIT!” You hear him running until he stops next to the body. He crouches down, his wide eyes looking at what’s left of James from head to foot. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, his voice quivering. You let the knife fall. “I can’t believe this,” you say in a low voice. Lorcan shoots up and looks at you. His expression looks worried. “Crowny?” “Why did I do this,” you ask yourself. Lorcan grips his hair and swears under his breath. “This will be ok, everything will be ok,” he whispers to himself. You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>Laughter climbs up your throat like vomit. You go into a fit. Laughing so hard your eyes burn. You hug your and double over laughing. Your throat starts burning from the force of your insanity. But you just can’t help it. This situation is so absurd. You wipe your eyes and try to lessen your laughter but amused sounds still come forward unbidden. <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname,” Imre’s voice says from behind you.<<else>>“$name,” Imre’s voice says from behind you.<</if>> You snort as Imre walks up next to you. He looks at the body and then at you. You grin at him with all your teeth. “What happened?” he asks. You try to answer but you just end up laughing again. He walks over to the body and surveys it, his expression is blank as if he were looking at roadkill. “Did you do this?” he asks. You just smile. He walks back to you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” You just cover your hand with your mouth to stop the onslaught of new laughs. He looks curiously at you. You hear the front door opening and Imre’s eyes flick up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Nia and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. You snort as Nia walks up next to you. She looks at the body. You grin at her with all your teeth and when she glances at you she looks worried. “Birdie, are you ok?” she asks. You try to answer but you just end up laughing again. She goes to his body and crouches down. She reaches out and touches his neck. She closes her eyes and moves her hand away. She looks back at you. You just smile. She walks over to you. “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and Nia looks back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You hear his quick footsteps pounding behind you. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clams his mouth shut. He stands up and comes over to you. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. You snort and then can't help but go into another laughter fit. He looks at you as if you’ve lost it. Maybe you have. You don’t even try to speak. “Ok, ok. ok. It’s going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. As you grin at him he just looks back confused and anxious. “It’s going to be ok. Don’t worry we’ll figure some-” You hear the front door opening and jerks his head back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Nia. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $ImreP > 1>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname,” Imre’s voice says from behind you. <<else>>“$name,” Imre’s voice says from behind you.<</if>> You snort as Imre walks up next to you. He looks at the body and then at you. You grin at him with all your teeth. “What happened?” he asks. You try to answer but you just end up laughing again. He walks over to the body and surveys it, his expression is blank as if he were looking at roadkill. “Did you do this?” he asks. You just smile. He walks back to you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” You just cover your hand with your mouth to stop the onslaught of new laughs. He looks curiously at you. You hear the front door opening and Imre’s eyes flick up. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Nia and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $NiaP > 1>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. You snort as Nia walks up next to you. She looks at the body. You grin at her with all your teeth and when she glances at you she looks worried. “Birdie, are you ok?” she asks. You try to answer but you just end up laughing again. She goes to his body and crouches down. She reaches out and touches his neck. She closes her eyes and moves her hand away. She looks back at you. You just smile. She walks over to you. “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and Nia looks back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Lorcan. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $LorcanP > 1>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You hear his quick footsteps pounding behind you. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clams his mouth shut. He stands up and comes over to you. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. You snort and then can't help but go into another laughter fit. He looks at you as if you’ve lost it. Maybe you have. You don’t even try to speak. “Ok, ok. ok. It’s going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. As you grin at him he just looks back confused and anxious. “It’s going to be ok. Don’t worry we’ll figure some-” You hear the front door opening and jerks his head back. You hear two sets of footsteps and you know that it’s Imre and Nia. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3>You examine yourself. There's some blood on your hands and you wipe it on your costume. Maybe you can say it's part of the costume? You go to the body and crouch down next to it. You think about what you can do. It’s not like you have experience in murder. You look at the knife. “The handle,” you whisper and reach for it when you hear a noise and look to see someone walking into the patio. <<if $rescueI>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname.” He looks from you to the body. Your hand is still outstretched. <<else>>“$name.” He looks from you to the body. Your hand is still outstretched.<</if>>\ “Imre I-” you look from him to the body. How can you explain this? He walks over to you and crouches down. He surveys the body. His face is blank as you exchange glances. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” “How?” you ask. You hear the front door opening and both of you see Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. She looks at the body and you snatch your hand back. “Nia I can explain,” you say. She slowly walks over to you. She looks at the protruding knife and brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Birdie.” “Yeah,” you reply. “I don’t know-” “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You snatch your hand back from the knife. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back as well. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clams his mouth shut. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. “Lorcan it was-” you bite your tongue. “Ok, ok. ok. It’s going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. “Lorcan calm down,” you instruct him gently. “It’s going to be ok. Don’t worry we’ll figure some-” You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $ImreP > 1>>\ <<if $tname>>“$tname.” He looks from you to the body. Your hand is still outstretched. <<else>>“$name.” He looks from you to the body. Your hand is still outstretched.<</if>>\ “Imre I-” you look from him to the body. How can you explain this? He walks over to you and crouches down. He surveys the body. His face is blank as you exchange glances. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “I’ll fix this.” “How?” you ask. You hear the front door opening and both of you see Nia and Lorcan walk onto the scene. Nia covers her mouth with her hand. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $NiaP > 1>>\ “Birdie what happened-” she stops. She looks at the body and you snatch your hand back. “Nia I can explain,” you say. She slowly walks over to you. She looks at the protruding knife and brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Birdie.” “Yeah,” you reply. “I don’t know-” “You don’t have to tell me. Everything will be fine. We just need to get Imre before anyone sees this-” You hear the front door opening and both of you look to see Imre and Lorcan walk out into the night. “What the fuck is this?” Lorcan asks. “Birdie needs our help,” Nia replies. Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <<elseif $LorcanP > 1>>\ “Yo, Crowny we need to-” Lorcan stops himself. You snatch your hand back from the knife. He comes up next to James’ body and crouches down. His mouth falls open as he takes in the knife. He reaches out for the knife before snatching his hand back as well. “FUCK!” he exclaims and then clams his mouth shut. His breathing is erratic. “Crowny did you...,” he swallows. “Lorcan it was-” you bite your tongue. “Ok, ok. ok. It’s going to be ok,” he whispers to himself. “Lorcan calm down,” you instruct him gently. “It’s going to be ok. Don’t worry we’ll figure some-” You hear the front door opening and he jerks his head back. You see Imre and Nia staring back at you. “What is this?” Nia asks, her voice breathless. “Crowny just-” Lorcan cuts himself off. He gulps and tries again, “I don’t fucking know.” Imre sighs. “We have to get rid of this.” No one responds for a moment. “We’re so fucked,” Lorcan says. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 493]] </h3>

<h3><<if $murderer>>\ “Ok, I’ll go and see if anyone’s noticed our absence and herd any party stragglers from the rest of the house to the event room,” Imre informs. “Nia, are you fine with figuring out how to transport the body without anyone seeing us?” “And leave Lorcan to clean up the rest of the evidence?” she asks incredulously. “She’s right,” he says. “I suck at noticing small shit. I can go find a cart or luggage for this guy.” Imre rubs his chin. “The oldest guest rooms are at the left rear of the house on the first floor, they'll be something there you can find.” Imre’s eyes flick to you. “You should clean yourself up.” You look down at your hands. It's incredibly dark out, enough that even you who seem to see so well in the night can't see the amount of blood you have on your hands. It feels sticky. You likely have splatter on your face and clothes. You're all in a circle, standing five feet from the body. It's so strange how quickly a person can adapt. You don't even see James lying there. It's a corpse. The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find a cloth and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the furthest end of the guest room corridor. Imre returns to the party and you wait until he signals to slip into a bathroom. [[NEXT|Page 494]] <<elseif $niam>>\ “Ok, I’ll go and see if anyone’s noticed our absence and herd any party stragglers from the rest of the house to the event room,” Imre informs. “$tname, are you fine with figuring out how to transport the body without anyone seeing us?” “And leave Lorcan to clean up the rest of the evidence?” she asks, her voice sounding low. “She’s right,” he says. “I suck at noticing small shit. I can go find a cart or luggage for this guy.” Imre rubs his chin. “The oldest guest rooms are at the left rear of the house on the first floor, they'll be something there you can find.” Imre’s eyes flick to Nia. “Querida, you should wash up.” Nia doesn’t respond but she has kept her hands hidden under her armpits for the last several minutes. You can still see the slight tremor they have. She hasn’t looked at you once. “I can still clean this up after I’m done,” she insists. Imre looks doubtful but he doesn’t protest. “What will you do?” he asks you. You're all in a circle, standing five feet away from the body. It's so strange how quickly a person can adapt. You don't even see James lying there. It's a corpse. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Imre, I don't think she's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Imre, I don't think he's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims..<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Imre, I don't think they're in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<</if>> “Well, we all gotta pull our fucking weight,” Lorcan counters. His eyes flicker to you and he looks away quickly, almost ashamed at the roughness in his voice. <hr>\ * [[Help Imre.|Page 494*]] * [[Help Nia.|Page 494**]] * [[Help Lorcan.|Page 494***]] <<elseif $lorcanm>>\ “Ok, I’ll go and see if anyone’s noticed our absence and herd any party stragglers from the rest of the house to the event room,” Imre informs. “Nia, are you fine with figuring out how to transport the body without anyone seeing us?” “And leave Birdie to clean up the rest of the evidence?” she asks, her voice sounding low. “I can do it,” you claim. The three look at you as if you don’t make sense. Well, two of the three. Lorcan glares down at his boots. “Really guys, I’m fine.” Imre’s eyes flick to Lorcan. “Go wash your hands.” Lorcan has his hands stuffed into his leather jacket which he has on top of his costume. “I can still help,” he mumbles. “Lorcan I think-” “I can take care of the fucking body Imre for fuck’s sake,” he argues abruptly, his eyes shooting up to him and daring him with his eyes to challenge his claim. Imre looks doubtful but he doesn’t protest. “What will you do?” he asks you. You're all in a circle, standing five feet away from the body. It's so strange how quickly a person can adapt. You don't even see James lying there. It's a corpse. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Imre, I don't think she's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Imre, I don't think he's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims..<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Imre, I don't think they're in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<</if>> “Well, we all gotta pull our fucking weight,” Lorcan counters. His eyes flicker to you and he looks away quickly, almost ashamed at the roughness in his voice. <hr>\ * [[Help Imre.|Page 494*]] * [[Help Nia.|Page 494**]] * [[Help Lorcan.|Page 494***]] <<elseif $imrem>>\ “Ok, I’ll go and see if anyone’s noticed our absence and herd any party stragglers from the rest of the house to the event room,” Imre informs. “Nia, are you fine with figuring out how to transport the body without anyone seeing us?” “And leave Lorcan to clean up the rest of the evidence?” she asks incredulously. “She’s right,” he says. “I suck at noticing small shit. I can go find a cart or luggage for this guy.” Imre rubs his chin. “The oldest guest rooms are at the left rear of the house on the first floor, they'll be something there you can find.” Imre looks doubtful but he doesn’t protest. “What will you do?” he asks you. You're all in a circle, standing five feet away from the body. It's so strange how quickly a person can adapt. You don't even see James lying there. It's a corpse. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>“Imre, I don't think she's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>“Imre, I don't think he's in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims..<<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>“Imre, I don't think they're in any state of mind to do too much of anything,” Nia claims.<</if>> “Well, we all gotta pull our fucking weight,” Lorcan counters. His eyes flicker to you and he looks away quickly, almost ashamed at the roughness in his voice. <hr>\ * [[Help Imre.|Page 494*]] * [[Help Nia.|Page 494**]] * [[Help Lorcan.|Page 494***]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>When you flick on the light the sight that greets you would make anyone else flinch. Your hair is messy, tangled and dirty from the earth. Your nose is runny and sure enough you see spots of blood on your forehead and cheeks. You scrub your hands under the sink and lather them intensely with soap. You wet a towel and roughly rub your face. You try to clean the bloodstains off your costume but all it does is turn the red stains into dull spots. You’re lucky it’s Halloween. //Murderer//. You jerk as a voice whispers in your ear. You look around the room, all you see are a tub and the toilet. You throw water on your face and pat it down with another towel. You ball up the bloody towel as small as you can and flush it down the toilet. You can’t think about what just happened right now. That’s for later. You don’t know how getting away with murder works but you do know that every second counts between going to prison for the rest of your life and living out the next seventy years with this as a buried secret between four people. You pat down your hair, straighten your clothes, take a deep breath and walk out of the bathroom. [[NEXT|Page 495]] </h3>

<h3>“The minute his friends notice he’s missing they’ll think it’s me. I have to be seen,” you explain. Imre nods. “Good thinking.” The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find a cloth and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the furthest end of the guest room corridor. You follow Imre back to the party. If you thought the party was going to die down as it neared midnight you’d be wrong. Imre and you can barely make it into the room as the enlarged crowd pushes people out of the door. The room is gorging itself to capacity with these bodies. You wonder how you're going to pass when Imre lightly touches the shoulder of a boy ahead of him. The boy turns around with a sour expression on his face, which quickly evaporates when he sees who it is. “Oh! Sorry, Imre.” Imre smiles placidly and ushers you ahead. Oddly, people make way for you now like this. Not because they don't want to touch you but because they don't want to be rude to Imre and incur his displeasure if they mistreat you. You don’t know how far he wants you to go until he pulls you back. He leads you to the turntables, a perfect vantage point to see everyone and most importantly, for them to see you. Imre smiles like a royal prince in a public outing to show how much he cares for his subjects. You on the other hand look around, trying to seem normal or your close approximation to it. “Do I smile?” you ask. He shakes his head, throwing a grin to onlookers. “No, it would look odd to them. Act like your regular antisocial self.” He doesn’t say it with judgment. It’s something you noticed he rarely does. You can’t tell if he’s masking it or truly doesn’t care. Perhaps he likes that you don’t outshine him. As if you could. “How much longer?” you ask, after ten minutes or so. “Five more minutes and then we’ll slip out, make sure it doesn’t look like you’re in a hurry,” he instructs. It feels like the longest five minutes of your life. <<if $Imre>> Not only due to the crowd, nor the fact that every minute that passes could lead to disaster but also because of how strange things are between you two. You can still taste him on your lips.<<else>>Not only due to the crowd, nor the fact that every minute that passes could lead to disaster but also because of how strange things are, an hour ago you were fighting with him and the others and now you’re covering up murder.<</if>> Eventually, you and him leave the party and head back to the crime scene. [[NEXT|Page 495]] </h3>

<h3><<if $niam>>\ “Four eyes are better than two,” you say to her. She doesn’t reply. She just stares. The four of you split up. You go to the kitchen to find cloths and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the furthest end of the guest room corridor. Imre goes back to the party. When you return, Nia is still where she was. Arms crossed and looking at nothing. You hand her a cloth and she robotically takes it. She cleans her hands with vigour. Even violently. She rubs in between her fingers and gets underneath her nails. She attacks her face, going up and down quickly. She sighs heavily when she looks down at her costume. When she’s done she holds the cloth in her fist. Her eyes look distant. You don’t know how to begin. What could you say to make this better? You’re the one that made her do it. “Nia—” “We have to get this over with,” she interjects and bends down to the body. She looks at the handle for a very long second. That’s Nia code for: ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’ She holds out her hand and you hand her a cloth. She takes it and wipes the handle of the knife before slowly pulling it out. She pauses to look at the blade and you start picking up the pieces of broken glass. You cut your finger on a small one and lightly suck it. You look over to see Nia still staring at the knife. You sigh internally and continue cleaning. When you go up to her she immediately wipes the knife and hands it to you. She stands up stiffly and throws the cloth in the trash bag. You throw the knife in. “Where do we throw this?” you ask. Nia holds out her hand, “I’ll hide it in the closet of one of the rooms, Imre can mix it in with the other garbage later.” “If you want I can do it,” you offer. She shakes her head and takes the bag from you. She stops and walks over to pick up the flashlight, she throws it in the bag too. You watch her retreating back, not knowing if you should have let her do it. <<elseif $imrem>>\ “Four eyes are better than two,” you say to her. She doesn’t reply. She just stares. The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find cloths and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the furthest end of the guest room corridor. Imre goes back to the party. When she returns you’re circling the body. She hands you a cloth. You look at each other and she says, “let’s get this over with.” Nia starts wiping the neck of the body. You start picking up the pieces of broken glass. You cut your finger on a small one and lightly suck it. When you go up to her she immediately stands up and throws the cloth in the trash bag. You throw his knife in. She scrunches her eyebrows, walks to pick up the flashlight and throws it in the bag too. “Where do we throw this?” you ask. Nia holds out her hand, “I’ll hide it in the closet of one of the rooms, Imre can mix it in with the other garbage later.” “If you want I can do it,” you offer. She shakes her head and takes the bag from you. “You’re more noticeable than me, Birdie.” You shake your head, “Nia if this gets figured out and you get in trouble—” “Birdie,” she says sternly. “Now is not the time for a panic attack. Let's deal with this shit first and then you can drown in guilt.” Despite it all her snark makes you smile. She inclines her head once and heads back inside. <<elseif $lorcanm>>\ “Four eyes are better than two,” you say to her. She doesn’t reply. She just stares. The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find cloths and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the furthest end of the guest room corridor. Imre goes back to the party. When she returns you’re circling the body. She hands you a cloth. You look at each other and she says, “let’s get this over with.” Nia starts wiping down the flashlight. You start picking up the pieces of broken glass. You cut your finger on a small one and lightly suck it. When you go up to her she immediately stands up and throws the cloth in the trash bag. You throw his knife in. “Where do we throw this?” you ask. Nia holds out her hand, “I’ll hide it in the closet of one of the rooms, Imre can mix it in with the other garbage later.” “If you want I can do it,” you offer. She shakes her head and takes the bag from you. “You’re more noticeable than me, Birdie.” You shake your head, “Nia if this gets figured out and you get in trouble—” “Birdie,” she says sternly. “Now is not the time for a panic attack. Let's deal with this shit first and then you can drown in guilt.” Despite it all her snark makes you smile. She inclines her head once and heads back inside. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 495]] </h3>

<h3><<if $lorcanm>>\ You look at Lorcan. “I can help you carry it.” Lorcan just shrugs. “Ok.” The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find cloths and trash bags while Lorcan heads to the bathroom with you in tow. Imre goes back to the party. You're surprised he doesn't lock the door on you. He gingerly pushes the door open and says, “get inside you want everybody to see?” You step inside and shut the door behind you. Lorcan grabs handfuls of water and splashes his face. He rubs his hands quickly under the water and fetches a towel. He rubs his face dry and then throws the towel in the garbage. You pick it out and flush it. “Someone will find it,” you explain to his confused face. He nods and rubs his wet hands on his pants. You didn’t think Lorcan could look paler than he naturally is but every ten minutes it miraculously gets worse. He presses his hand to his mouth and lurches. “Lorcan?” you ask. He pushes you aside and falls to his knees. You hear the vomit splash onto the toilet water and wrinkle your nose. He makes rasping noises in between sessions. He blindly throws his hand onto the tank and feels around until he finds the level and pulls it down. “Lorcan?” you say again, cautiously. He grunts and stands up, his legs wobble. He holds onto the sink and his bloodshot looks at you from the mirror. Sweat runs down his forehead. “Crowny, I can’t fucking do this. You. Go.” “But—” “For fuck’s sake leave me alone! Go!” he yells and points to the door. You step back and feel for the door knob. Your eyes don’t leave Lorcan as you open the door, step out and close it. It takes you the better part of 10 minutes before you open the closet of an old guest room and find a trunk that could fit a human body. You grab at it and you underestimate how heavy it is to pull out. You have to use all your strength and then some to slide it out. Unfortunately, you slip backwards and it lands on you, pushing the air out of your lungs. “Ow,” you groan. Dragging it out of the room is not much easier. You’re sweating and your palms keep threatening to slip from the trunk. “Grab the other end,” Lorcan’s voice comes from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see him standing there all sullen. He doesn’t directly look at you. His cheeks hold traces of pink. “Hurry up, someone could see us,” he says. You drop the end of the trunk slowly and walk to the other end. Lorcan crouches down just as you do and you both lift. It’s still heavy but you feel you can manage till you get back to the backyard. Although having to resort to waddling instead of walking is kind of embarrassing. But at least it’s easier to focus on that than on Lorcan’s mood. <<else>>\ You look at Lorcan. “I can help you carry it.” Lorcan just shrugs. “Ok.” The four of you split up. Nia goes to the kitchen to find cloths and trash bags while Lorcan heads to guest rooms on the first floor with you in tow. Imre goes back to the party. He practically kicks the door down in his desperation. You haven’t even taken a step inside before he yells, “Crowny help me with this shit!” You walk in to see him struggling to get a big trunk out of the closet. It’s one of those old types. Something that would look at home on a steamboat. He’s looking at you. “WELL? We don’t have all damn night!” You rush over to his side and take the other side of the trunk. You pull it out of the closet and nearly fall doing so. Standing up you both look across it at each other. “Lower your voice,” you hiss. Lorcan glares at you. “Anyway, did you know this was going to be here?” you ask. “Nope. I just got lucky. My ass isn’t going to fucking prison,” he affirms although you don’t miss the slight shake at the end of his words. You want to ask him but he’s right in being in such a hurry. You two waddle over to the door and you peek out. Imre succeeded in herding all the party-goers away from the halls and spare bedrooms. “Clear,” you say. It’s hard to waddle. You don’t know how penguins do it. You and Lorcan move from side to side down the hall, careful not to bump into a table and break a vase. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 495]] </h3>

<h3>Nearing midnight, and you all are gathered in the backyard. Imre’s eyebrows raise when he sees the gigantic antique trunk Lorcan has by his feet. “Where did you find that?” he asks.<<audio "killer" stop>> Lorcan kicks it lightly. “It was in one of those old huge ass closets. Shit had cobwebs and stuff.” “Amazing,” Nia says dryly. “We have to see if he'll fit in it first. Unfortunately, our recently deceased friend was quite large,” Imre says. Lorcan unlocks the drunk and all four of you look from the body to the trunk and back. “It’ll be a tight squeeze,” you declare. Imre and Lorcan stand at the foot of the body and you and Nia stand by the arms. “Alright, on three.” All of you crouch down and take a limb. You hold it tightly, and your fingernails turn white. “One,” Imre says. You grip tighter. “Two,” you stiffen the muscles in your legs. “Three,” you take a glance at <<if $Imre>> Imre.<<elseif $Nia>> Nia.<<elseif $Lorcan>> Lorcan.<<elseif $Nothing>> James.<</if>> You grunt as the weight of the body nearly makes you drop it. Even though you only have his arm it feels like you’re attempting to carry all 180 pounds of him. The other three are in various stages of struggle but you manage to lift him over the trunk and lay —more like drop him — in. He hits the bottom of the trunk with a loud thump. You all take take deep breaths. Imre swallows his own heavy breathing and closes the trunk. “Where are going to put the body?” you ask. Imre looks out into the abyss of the woods. “Where all the dead go.” [[NEXT|Page 496]] </h3>

<h3>It seems like God, or Gods or the universe doesn't want to make this so easy. As you and the others started carrying the trunk into the woods it started raining. Fat drops fell into your eyes and made you almost walk into the tree trunks as you blinked them away. By the time the lights of the house were swallowed up by the darkness it was down-pouring. Your fingers threatened to slip from the handles multiple times. All your costumes hung heavily on your slick bodies. Mud quickly began to form under your feet and soon enough each step any of took threatened to suction your shoes off your feet. Nia almost slipped down into the soft and treacherous dirt and she glared at anyone who dared to help her. She wasn’t the only one. It seemed like all of you were not only sinking into the mud but also in mood. The trunk was incredibly heavy. It would slide to one side and then the other which would have each of you scramble for purchase. Your toes felt the coldness of the mud within your shoes. As quickly as you blinked more rain got into your eyes. Lorcan had turned pale with the exertion, his pale hair hung down his face like tears. Imre couldn’t mask his own suffering either. His face carried a resolute hardness to it that can only be achieved through tremendous amounts of pain. Imre had said that the human body becomes heavier after death due to a lack of stiffness from the bones. That stiffness helps in lifting but a dead body is loose and so you carry the entire weight of it. “How do you know that?” Lorcan asks, his voice muffled over the heavy rain. [[NEXT|Page 497]] </h3>

<h3>“Simple biology,” Imre succinctly explains.<<audio "thunder" loop play>> “Maybe he’s done this before,” Nia says in between gasps. “It's quite amazing to see that you can joke in a time like this,” Imre responds with a smirk that wavers due to the strain on his own body. “Who said I'm joking?” she asks. She and Imre exchange looks. He looks rather amused and that makes a slight corner of her mouth rise. “Imre how far do we go? I don’t think any of us can do this much longer,” you claim. Imre looks ahead of him and squints but you know he sees the same thing as you do: nothing. Darkness surrounds you on all sides, the only time you know there’s a tree near you is when you bump into it. The thick fog that has risen to your knees won’t be merciful if one of you loses your shoes. Wet socks meant death. “Just a few minutes more, I want to be sure we’re deep in the woods,” he explains. [[NEXT|Page 498]] </h3>

<h3>Each second carrying this trunk feels like five minutes and just when your arms fail, Imre orders you to stop and simultaneously you all drop the trunk. It splashes mud on your all faces and clothes. “Ugh,” Nia says and wipes mud off her off. The fog has risen so high you can’t even see the trunk anymore. You move your foot forward and feel it just in case you get disorientated which is a very real possibility with the exhaustion and the weather. Imre slicks his hair back and looks back from where you came. “Two of us should go back for the shovels. The others need to stay here to make sure the trunk doesn’t slide off.” “I’m not walking in that mud,” Nia proclaims. Imre looks at Lorcan who shrugs, “I don’t care. I’ll stay here or go it doesn’t matter ‘cause I still have to bury this dude anyway.” “Ok,” Imre replies and finally looks at you. <hr>\ * [[Stay.|Page 499**][$niast to true]] * [[Stay and rest.|Page 499*][$st to true]] * [[Go with Imre.|Page 499][$imreg to true]] * [[Go with Lorcan.|Page 499***][$lorg to true]] </h3>

<h3>“I’ll go with you,” you say to Imre. He nods once and gestures for you to walk ahead of him. You immediately hear Lorcan groaning about how he’s ‘fucking tired’ as you walk away. Turns out, walking in horrible weather is much easier when you’re not carrying a dead body. Who knew? Either because he’s tall or because you struggle to walk quickly in mud, Imre ends up walking next to you. You’re silent for most of the walk until you start seeing the lights of the mansion. “How do you feel?” he asks suddenly. You glance at him but it’s too dark to really see his expression. “About?” “I could respond sarcastically but I won’t,” he replies. “I don’t really have time to answer that nor head space really, Imre,” you say. He hums. “I have to say, I imagined many things could happen tonight but murder perpetuated by us was on the 'least likely' list.” You raise an eyebrow, “you had a list?” <<if $tname>>\ “I have a list for most things $tname,” he says. <<else>>\ “I have a list for most things $name,” he says. <</if>>\ When you reach the house Imre grabs your elbow. “They’re not that way, we don’t want to be seen looking like this.” You look down at your clothes and feel your matted hair and assent. Imre turns and walks somewhere to the side of the house. He doesn't tell you anything so you just stay put. Quicker than you expect he materializes from in between some bushes holding two shovels in each hand. When he hands you half of them he says, “luckily we have a shed.” “Luckily.” Returning to the others isn’t as easy. [[NEXT|Page 500]] </h3>

<h3>Imre and Lorcan go back to the house and you lean back against the tree and close your eyes. It's not easy to get comfortable in the pouring rain or with the taste of mud in your mouth. There’s so much to think about but you can’t find strength to tackle anything. Your body and mind are drained and you still haven’t even dug the hole. You don’t feel as if you drift off but when Nia calls your name you see Imre and Lorcan are back. [[NEXT|Page 500]] </h3>

<h3>“We can go,” you say to Lorcan. Lorcan huffs and starts walking. You jog to catch up to him. “The shovels are in the shed, don’t go into the house!” Imre yells over the rain. <<if $lorcanm>>\ Lorcan has been complaining all through the forest as you brought the body but right now he’s unusually quiet. Perhaps he was complaining so he didn't have to cry. Lorcan is probably the worst person that could kill someone. You can see it eating away at him, taking every good feeling and replacing it with guilt. You know anything you say would only make it worse because he did this for you. To protect you. You don’t know why nor do you think he knows. But that’s now a fact between you two. Funny, once again you’re united by death. <<else>>\ “This sucks,” Lorcan says when you come up beside him. “I know, but what else can we do?” you ask. Lorcan wipes mud from his eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. This isn’t my fucking mess.” “Yeah, I get it. It's mine,” you admit. You feel Lorcan turn to you but you stare ahead. He sighs. “I mean... it is my mess now. My ass is too involved. I can’t just leave.” You smile, fortunate to be under the cover of darkness. That’s the closest thing to loyalty Lorcan will allow. <</if>>\ When you arrive at the mansion, Lorcan is the one who goes looking for the shovels. You stand at the treeline, watching the backdoor. After more than five minutes you start worrying. It shouldn’t take that long to get some shovels. Did someone see him? Shit. You hide behind a tree. Would Lorcan spill? He's been to jail before. Aren't there rules against that? You close your eyes and breathe in. What will you say? Deny? Self-defence? Your family doesn't even have the money for a good lawyer– “Crowny!” His whispered urgent voice pulls you back from your spiral and you set out from behind the tree. Lorcan looks around before seeing you. He lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought you left.” You take two of the shovels he holds out to you. “I thought you left.” Lorcan elbows you. “I’m no snitch.” “Good to know,” you reply. [[NEXT|Page 500]] </h3>

<h3>You lean against a tree trunk and cross your arms. Imre takes that as a choice and he and Lorcan start walking back. Nia looks around her, trying to find a place to sit but she just resigns herself to standing with her arms crossed. “When we’re done with this, are you heading home?” you ask. She looks at you. “Are making small talk?” You shrug. “Yeah it sounds weird in the present circumstance but I don’t want you to feel any worse than you do.” You can’t see her expression but you can guess that she’s not too happy with what you said. <<if $niam>>\ “And you think talking to me about wind-down activities after a murder will make me feel better?” she asks sharply. You bite your tongue. The fight between you all in the library is fresh in your mind but it seems petty and immature to bring it up when compared to this mess. “I just don’t want you to feel like a killer,” you claim. She looks away. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.” You don’t know if she means that she doesn’t want to talk about this now or ever but you think it’s best not to press. She’s already beating herself up over what she did. <<else>>\ “Birdie, no offence but I’m not in the mood for chitchat. I’m dirty, I’m wet, I’m tired and overall I’m kind of hanging on by a thread,” she admits. Your eyes widen. Nia usually never says how she feels. If someone as strong and stoic as she is is losing it how are any of you safe? “If it makes you feel better I feel like shit too. There’s mud in my ass crack,” you say lightly. Nia shakes her head. She walks over to you and leans on the tree next to you. “Idiot,” she mutters. You smile. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 500]] </h3>

<h3>You’ve never been the strongest of your kind but the first time you stick the shovel into the mud and attempt to lift it makes you spill it all over your legs. “Why is it heavier? I thought hard ground would be harder to dig,” you say to Imre. He grunts as he throws a shovelful of food off to the side. “For our purposes, it's more ideal to have dry ground. When it rains and the dirt becomes mud it weighs more due to the water increasing the bulk density. This specific type of soil is so densely packed that water doesn't penetrate, just sits at the top... and each time we shovel off dirt we expose the layer underneath to the rain thus repeating the cycle,” he yells over the torrential rain. “Fuck me, you know everything,” Lorcan yells. Imre shrugs, “I could be wrong. I haven’t read up much about soil and its properties.” “Imre Duran admitting he’s wrong? Halloween miracle,” you try to say in a snarky tone but you end up grunting at the end. Imre pushes his curls from his eyes. “I do admit I’m not at my most optimal level.” “Doesn't stop you from talking like you're a professor at Harvard,” Nia replies, her voice still carries despite not yelling. “Oh, nothing would stop that,” he says. After that moment of levity, you all go silent again, each concentrating on digging as quickly as you can. But the rain doesn't stop and the mud only gets more slippery with time. Lorcan's shovel periodically gets stuck in the mud, Nia is constantly slipping and Imre has to stop each time to lend her support. Your shoe gets taken by the mud and you and the others spend the better part of half an hour looking for it. [[NEXT|Page 501]] </h3>

<h3>//If only we could see the moon//, you think. You don't know how deep you've dug, you wouldn't be able to see if anyone from the party followed you out here and oddly enough it didn't occur to you until now that you're in the woods. The place where it's habitual for people to go missing. You don't know how much time passes. It could be nearing dawn for all you know. Your head is empty, and your body's singular focus is shoving the shovel in, lifting and throwing. Over, and over, and over again. When you've repeated this task 150 times your arms shake and you drop the shovel, bending over you grip your knees and heave. Luckily, you haven't eaten in hours so nothing comes out. You look up at the others who have also stopped. Imre says, “if my calculations are correct we’ve been digging for around two hours.” “That would mean it’s around 2 am,” Nia responds. “Precisely. I would go back for water but I look as if I had a wrestling match in the mud, as do all of you,” he says. You look at your companions. He’s right. You’re bathed in it. The only area visible are your faces and even those have splotches of mud on them. “We’ll work a bit more and at a faster pace,” Imre instructs. Lorcan groans but gets to shovelling. You start counting the seconds in your head to prevent your thoughts from wandering to areas not suited for any morale boasting. [[NEXT|Page 502]] </h3>

<h3>Although, things never work out as you wish. Your brain is not your friend and never has been. You think about Sally and all his warnings. He paints the world as this vicious, cold and hungry place. Must you accept all experiences good and bad to live like other humans live or was he right and you shouldn’t have come here? If you want love must you be willing to accept hate? As one cannot exist without the other. Your head starts aching and you decide that such questions are better left for a more calmer time. <center>❖</center> “Fuck,” you growl as you throw the trunk in along with the rest of them. It lands inside the muddy tomb with a loud thunk which of course splatters onto all of you. “Imma be picking out mud from my ass crack,” Lorcan complains. Looking down at where the grave is supposed to be Lorcan asks, “should we say somethin’?” He looks around at each of you. “Like?” Nia asks. He throws his hands up, “fuck if I know. Just anything. Imre, what are those things that you say at funerals called?” “Eulogy,” he replies. “Exactly.” Imre clasps his hands together, “anyone like to say a few words for James?” His eyes land on you. <hr>\ * [[Say something.|Page 503][$eulogy to true]] * [[Let one of them do it.|Page 503]] </h3>

<h3><<if $eulogy>>\ You take a step forward. Clearing your throat you say, “here lies James Hewitt. He was 18 years old. A quarterback for the Croun High football team. From what I heard he was very talented.” You take a step back. It seems appropriate that that is the only thing you say, he is here because of a series of events that began when you were born. “May whatever Gods he believes in, take pity on his soul,” Imre says. Lorcan sniffs. You take a few minutes of silence. <<else>>\ Imre takes a step forward. “James Howard Hewitt was a member of the Croun High football team. An exceptionally talented quarterback, he had a scholarship to study in California. He will be missed by his parents, his brother and his friends. Maybe he find peace.” You look over and see Lorcan wiping his eyes. You take a few minutes of silence. <</if>>\ “Keep going, burying the trunk will be easier than digging was,” Imre claims. In the desperation of getting out of the rain and taking a much-needed hot shower, you work quickly and thoughtlessly.<<audio "thunder" stop>> Sure enough, it takes around half an hour to bury most of the trunk under pounds of mud. Lorcan is wheezing by that point, Nia is shivering, you taste vomit in your mouth and Imre is trying not to breathe heavily but his chest does rise and fall in rapid succession. The moment the rain stops you feel it instantly. You look up and around you. It went away as if someone flipped a switch. It's so abrupt that the others stop digging and look around equally as perplexed. “Weird,” Nia says. [[NEXT|Page 504]] </h3>

<h3>“Yeah where the fuck did the rain go?” Lorcan asks. “It’s not only that,” you say. “What?” he asks. “I can’t hear anything,” Imre replies. “Me neither,” you affirm. The rain took the sounds away. Mud slides along your feet but you can't hear it. The trees don't whisper to each other as they're prone to do. The only sounds you hear come from the laborious breathing each of you is doing. You’re used to odd things. Otherworldly occurrences. But this feels //’’wrong’’//. As if the perfect balance of the universe in which all things in nature are where they should be has been defiled. “Something is here that shouldn’t be,” you whisper. You look at the faces of your accomplices, of your team and you see that they somehow are thinking the same thing you are. “Guys....,” Lorcan whispers. “Do you feel that?” Imre whispers. “It’s watching us,” Nia whispers. You don’t know what it is but even though it can likely see you feel something inside of you telling you that it’s better not to speak loudly. It’s the same feeling you had on the first day of school when you felt those eyes on you telling you it was best not to run. [[NEXT|Page 505]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "hunted" loop play>>\ Imre’s eyebrows furrow and he picks up his shovel, “we have to hurry.” The rest of you pick up your shovels and quickly begin to fill the hole again. The trees above your head start rustling, at first gently like the wind but then they shake as if large footsteps were creating earthquakes. Leaves start falling on all of you from the force of the vibration. You begin hearing rustling next to you and behind you. Then it’s all around you. “Guys we need to go. Now.” The force of Lorcan’s voice is so commanding that Imre starts setting his shovel down slowly. You follow suit. “What do we do?” “We’ll just start walking.” “Shouldn’t we get out of the woods?” “There’s a way out but we won’t make it there unless we run.” “Are you fucking kidding me? If we run-” “I know, it could entice it. But I see no choice.” “We can’t get lost.” “Let’s hold hands then.” What would be absurd becomes logical. You each hold each other’s hands, with Imre at the front, Nia after him, Lorcan and you. You slowly walk away from the burial site. Your brain is going haywire over leaving it uncovered. If you make it out of these woods you’re still fucked. The rustling seems to follow you, there is no origin to it. The entire woods have come alive for you. You feel its eyes on your back. You feel its footsteps behind you even though you can’t hear it. You swear the cold air on your neck is their breath. Then a thought, unwanted and not your own tells you you need to run. But just as you think that, Lorcan lets go of your hand. Or maybe you let go. You don't know but suddenly there's only air in front of you. You look around between the trees. You hear no footsteps, the rustling has raised to a fever pitch and you cover your ears. “IMRE?!” you scream. “NIA?!” “LORCAN?!” “WHERE ARE YOU?!” You look around frantically for any pop of colour. Any recognizable face peering out at you from the dark. “BIRDIE!” Nia’s voice screams from somewhere to your right. <<if $tname>>“$tname!” comes your name spoken by Imre, somewhere to your left.<<else>>“$name!” comes your name spoken by Imre, somewhere to your left.<</if>> “CROWNY!” Lorcan yells ahead of you. You run to... <hr>\ * [[Imre.|Page 506][$ghosti to true]] * [[Nia.|Page 506][$ghostn to true]] * [[Lorcan.|Page 506][$ghostl to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $ghosti>>\ You run to the left, the state of the ground makes you slip and fall to your knees but you scramble up just as fast. You hear him call your name, his voice getting louder. “Where are you?!“ you scream. You keep running as he repeats your name but you can't tell exactly where he is because at certain points he doesn't respond to your call. You slow down, out of breath. Taking in gulps of air you look around. You can see slightly better now without the rain but everything around you looks the same. The trees are eerily perfect. You slowly turn around in circles. Trying to note anything different. “Imre?” you ask. You see an arm peeking out from behind a tree about 15 feet away. “I’m here,” the person behind the tree says. They’re hiding. You see only their arm, the side of their face and their hair. They’re tall. “Imre, what are you doing there? Are you hiding?” you ask in a whisper. “Come here,” he says. He lifts his hand and beckons you. But the gesture looks odd. Limp. As if someone were doing it for him. You stay rooted to where you are. “Why don’t you come here instead?” He keeps beckoning you, the gesture maintains a firm rhythm which makes it look like he’s just flexing his wrist. “Come here,” he repeats. His voice sounds monotone, at odds with the situation. It’s a voice you’ve heard from him before but it makes you think of death. You shake your head. “I don’t—” “Do you want to die?” You feel your body go cold. He’s still beckoning and you try to see more of him but he moves each time to remain behind the tree. Is that Imre? If not, where did he go? “CROWNY!” Lorcan screams. You look to the right just in time to see him running towards you. His eyes are widened in fear and you don’t have time to ask him anything before he grabs your arm and pulls you along. You stumble initially but get your bearings in time not to fall. You look behind you once and see that body there. Its face pressed tightly against the trunk. <<elseif $ghostn>>\ You run to the right, the state of the ground makes you slip and fall to your knees but you scramble up just as fast. You hear her call your name, her voice getting louder. “Where are you?!” you scream. You keep running as she repeats your name but you can’t tell exactly where she is because at certain points she doesn’t respond to your call. You slow down, out of breath. Taking in gulps of air you look around. You can see slightly better now without the rain but everything around you looks the same. The trees are eerily perfect. You slowly turn around in circles. Trying to note anything different. “Birdieeeeeeeeeeee.” You start and swiftly turn around. You look wildly between the trees. “Nia?” “Birdieeeeeeeeeeee,” she says again in a sing-song voice. “What the fuck?” you whisper to yourself. “UUUPPPPPPP HHHHEEERRRREEEEE!” the voice screams. You slowly look up into the leaves. They’re so densely packed together it’s hard to make anything out. Until you see her voice poking out from the darkness. The leaves cover the top half of her face so that you can only see her nose and mouth. She’s smiling so wide her face is stretched. “Nia?” you repeat. “Cooommmmeeeee hhhhheeeeerrrreeeeeeee,” she sings. Her voice sounds incredibly high-pitched but cracked and raspy as if she is recovering from a cold. The strange thing is... her mouth isn’t moving. “How did you get up there?” you inquire, trying to keep your voice calm. She slowly lifts and lowers her teeth together as if biting. “Cooommmmmeeeeeee hhhhheeeeelllllpppppp,” she trills. A hand comes out from in between the leaves up there. Reaching for you. The arm and the face are too far apart for logic. Your mouth hangs open and you feel like you can’t move. What do you do? Is that Nia? If it’s not then where is she? “CROWNY!” Lorcan screams. You look to the left just in time to see him running towards you. His eyes are widened in fear and you don’t have time to ask him anything before he grabs your arm and pulls you along. You stumble initially but get your bearings in time not to fall. You look behind you once and see the arm still dangling down. <<elseif $ghostl>>\ “LORCAN!” you scream. You run forward, the state of the ground makes you slip and fall to your knees but you scramble up just as fast. You hear him call your name, his voice getting louder. “Where are you?!” you scream. You keep running as he repeats your name but you can’t tell exactly where he is because at certain points he doesn’t respond to your call. You slow down, out of breath. Taking in gulps of air you look around. You can see slightly better now without the rain but everything around you looks the same. The trees are eerily perfect. You're surveying your surroundings intently when you see someone. He stands about thirty feet away. You can't make out much of his features. But he has a beard. He's wearing a coat, a vest and pants. In a dark colour that could be grey or brown or black. He stands there with his arms to his side. He doesn’t seem to be moving much. Not even the regular movements like a chest rising and falling to indicate breathing. His clothes look old, but not in a worn type of way but old-timey. Like the way someone would dress a century ago. There’s something familiar about him but you can’t tell what it is. He slowly lifts his hands and waves. There is something wrong with this. He shouldn't be here. But somewhere in your head, you know for a fact he won't hurt you. You raise your arm up and wave back. “CROWNY!” Lorcan screams. You look behind you just in time to see him running towards you. His eyes are widened in fear and you don’t have time to ask him anything before he grabs your arm and pulls you along, swerving right. You stumble initially but get your bearings in time not to fall. You look behind you once and see the man still waving. <</if>>\ Lorcan stops and you bump into him. You look ahead to see Imre and Nia emerging from the fog. Lorcan lets go of you and you all meet up. Nia is trembling despite the stoic look on her face. She looks a mess just like Imre. “Where the fuck did you guys go?” Lorcan asks. [[NEXT|Page 507]] </h3>

<h3>“I felt Nia let go and when I turned around the rest of you were gone,” Imre explains. “I didn’t let go,” Nia insists. “I thought you and Lorcan let go.” “We’re either high as fuck or this shit is fucking with us ‘cause I swear I saw-” Lorcan cuts off. He looks at you and says awkwardly, “someone I knew.” “I think I saw Stephanie,” Imre admits. “She was far away but she was waving me over. She was saying something but I couldn't read her lips because her mouth was moving too slowly.” “Imre, Stephanie is dead,” Nia says gravely. “Nia you just told me you saw your mother,” Imre declares. She shakes her head. “Hallucinations as a result of exhaustion and dehydration.” You try to listen to what they're saying but you see a faint light on the tree trunk near Imre's head. It wavers and flickers like a poor light bulb. But it's not coming from the tree. Your neck stiffens as you slowly look behind you. Close, closer than you’d like you see almost hidden in between the tree trunk.... a light. A yellow light. Like a flame. But it was circular like an eye without a pupil. It tugs at your memory. You think you’ve seen it once before. In a dream. “We have to run forward. If we hold hands we'll just slow each other down or we'll lose each other again. If we all run in that direction,” Imre points behind him, “we'll reach the main road and each other.” “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lorcan practically whines. [[NEXT|Page 508]] </h3>

<h3>“What about the body?” you ask faintly, your mind not connected with your mouth. “Let that fucking thing have it we got bigger shit to worry about,” Lorcan claims. “No one will do that stupid thing where we look back, we run and if you fall just get back up I can look at our wounds later,” Nia orders. The light’s warmth caresses your face. “Ready?” Imre asks. Lorcan tugs at your arm. You look back at the group. You blink several times trying to get the fog out of your mind. “Now!” he commands. He turns around and rushes into the darkness. You and the others run after him. You rush forward, against the mud and the pain in your body. You’ll run until you collapse. You try to bring your mind back to the single-minded focus you had when digging the grave. But Imre trips in front you. [[NEXT|Page 509]] </h3>

<h3><img src="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2020/06/21/16/51/rabbit-5325832_1280.png" width="20%"><<include "Timer9">> <hr>\ * [[Help Imre.|Page 510][$helpi to true]] * [[Run.]] </h3>

<h3>You turn and fly past him but as you're running you look back. You curse at yourself for your stupidity but you turn around and run back. Imre’s already standing up as you make it back but you still grab his hand and push him forward. “GO!” you command. “I’m right behind you!” Imre dashes forward and you get ready to run again when Nia turns around and raises her voice, “STOP!” Against all reason, the strength in her voice makes you stop short. She stands a few yards away from you. Her chest rises and falls, and her extended arm that signalled at you shakes. You hear rapid footsteps ahead of you. Imre and Lorcan burst back onto the scene, stopping near Nia. Lorcan’s face is beat red, he’s bathed in sweat. Imre looks less dishevelled, he seems not to care as his eyes pass over you into whatever is behind you. He blinks, his eyes shining. He looks in awe. Suddenly, there’s light. As bright as headlights but with the power of the sun. Your companions are lightened completely. Their faces each show wonder, confusion and fear respectively. You feel a blast of heat warming your back. “Birdie,” Nia says hesitantly. “Please. Don’t. Move.” You feel something wet drip on your head. It slides down your face and coats your mouth. And you hear it once more. Your eternal companion. Your tormentor who says they protect you. Whose love is blood. //Finally.// Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password5">> </h3>

<h3>You can’t think about anyone but yourself right now so you step aside and run past him. You don’t look back but that doesn’t matter because Lorcan comes running back and because you didn’t expect it you try to move aside and end up sinking down in the mood. You swear as you fall into its gooey embrace. You hear footsteps and try to get the boy’s attention but you have mud in your mouth and the fog covers you. You have to help yourself up. The earth beneath you is unstable but you push yourself up and with wobbly legs stand. You get ready to run again when Nia turns around and raises her voice, “STOP!” Against all reason, the strength in her voice makes you stop short. She stands a few yards away from you. Her chest rises and falls, and her extended arm that signalled at you shakes. You hear rapid footsteps ahead of you. Imre and Lorcan burst back onto the scene, stopping near Nia. Lorcan’s face is beat red, he’s bathed in sweat. Imre looks less dishevelled, he seems not to care as his eyes pass over you into whatever is behind you. He blinks, his eyes shining. He looks in awe. Suddenly, there’s light. As bright as headlights but with the power of the sun. Your companions are lightened completely. Their faces each show wonder, confusion and fear respectively. You feel a blast of heat warming your back. “Birdie,” Nia says hesitantly. “Please. Don’t. Move.” You feel something wet drip on your head. It slides down your face and coats your mouth. And you hear it once more. Your eternal companion. Your tormentor who says they protect you. Whose love is blood. //Finally.// Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password5">> </h3>

\<<audio "hunted" stop>> \ \ \ \ \ <center><h1> ''PART TWO'' //Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift - Dante Alighieri//</h1></center> <center> <h2> __ //[[NEXT ->Episode 8 Sponsor]]//__ </h2> </center>

<h3>No, you’re not going to become a murderer for this. He doesn’t deserve to fuck up your life forever.<<set $murderer to true>> You leave the knife where it is and walk away. You reach for the handle of the door before you're yanked by back your hair. James' hand grabs your throat as he takes you back down to the patio. He throws you back on the ground. You look to see his eyes. They’re crazed, flitting along your body. He doesn’t look like himself. There doesn’t seem to be a human within him. You straddle you once more and wraps his hands around your neck. You can't even make a squeak of pain. Blood rushes to your face. It throbs like a broken finger. The bones in your neck crack under the force of his fingers. Your heart pounds in your ears and you have no strength as you try to pry his hands off of you. You’re going to die. He’s going to kill you. You’ll die as you lived, alone. But maybe something is on your side. Your struggling makes him drop the knife. You two stop for a second and go for it. The moment it’s in his hand you grip onto it and try to wrestle it away from him. James tries to push your face away but you bite down on his fingers. He groans and lets go. Your fingers slide against the blade and blood trickles down on both of your hands. James’ eyes widen as he sees the knife sliding out of his hand and into yours. He uses his other hand and attempts to pull the knife back to him. You strain so hard you start using your entire upper body, akin to trying to pry open a locked door. Your shoulders ache and you clench your teeth from screaming. But your blood is too slick and he’s on top of you. You don’t know exactly how it happens. A twist of a wrist, an arm that moved too far, or just plain luck. But the knife slips from your hands and the weight atop you disappears. You let out a loud and long breath. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin. Your fingers shake with the pain from the cuts.<<set $murdererdos to true>> You wait for a few minutes before slowly sitting up. You almost cry when you use your hands to stand up. You walk over to the body. The knife sticks out from his chest. The blood spreads throughout the whiteness of his toga. His open eyes look up to the sky, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, forever. You.. <hr>\ * [[Sit down.|Page 492][$siit to true]] * [[Laugh.|Page 492*][$laugh to true]] * [[Try to clean it up.|Page 492**][$clean to true]] </h3>

<h4><<if $tname>>//Birth name was $name. True name is $tname Cairo Crown// <<else>>//$name Cairo Crown//<</if>> **You. Born 1975. Youngest of your siblings. The proverbial black sheep. <<if $sexanswer is 'you are a woman, you were born a woman.'>>You are a cis woman. <<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a man but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>You are a trans woman.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you are a man, you were born a man.'>>You are a cis man.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'well.. they tell you that you are a woman but... it sounds... not right. Maybe it is not so simple.'>>You are a trans man.<<elseif $sexanswer is 'you have never thought that matters and you cannot understand why people want it to matter.'>>You are non-binary.<<else>>Who are you?<</if>> **You have $hairlength $haircolor hair. An $body $skin body. Your eyes are $eyecolor. ** <<if $nickname>>Your nickname is $nickname.<<elseif $tnick>>Your nickname is $tnick.<<else>>You don’t have a nickname.<</if>> <span class="purple">//''MORALITY''//:</span> <<if $Ethical < 3 && $Corrupt < 3 >> <<nobr>>You are neutral.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical >= 3 and $Ethical <= 6 and $Corrupt >= 3 and $Corrupt <= 6>> <<nobr>>You tend to fall into a moral a middle point. Perhaps you simply do not care.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Ethical > 0 and $Corrupt > 0>>\ <<if $Ethical > $Corrupt>>\ You had been unsure. But now it seems you tend toward the light. <<elseif $Corrupt > $Ethical>>\ You had been unsure. But now it seems you tend toward the dark. <</if>>\ <<elseif $Ethical == $Corrupt>> You find you have no interest in applying any moral label to your choices. You just are. <<elseif $Corrupt >= 3 && $Corrupt < 6>> <<nobr>>You’re slightly questionable.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Corrupt >= 6 && $Corrupt < 9>> You’ve been tending to favour reprehensible actions. <<elseif $Corrupt >= 9>> <<nobr>>You are morally corrupt.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Ethical >= 3 && $Ethical < 6>> <<nobr>>You seem to have some morals.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Ethical >= 6 && $Ethical < 9>> <<nobr>>You have done good for others.<</nobr>> <<elseif $Ethical >= 9>> <<nobr>>You are morally ethical. <</nobr>> <</if>> <span class="purple">//''SELF-WORTH''//:</span> <<if $Worth < 2 && $Worthless < 2>> You’ve never thought about it. <<elseif $Worth >= 2 && $Worth < 5>> Perhaps you aren’t so bad after all. <<elseif $Worth >= 5>> You are valuable and are deserving. <<elseif $Worthless >= 2 && $Worthless < 5>> Are you no good? <<elseif $Worthless >= 5>> They’re right, you’re nothing. <<elseif $Worth > $Worthless && $Worth >= 2 && $Worth <= 5>> You don’t think you’re so bad. Although... <<elseif $Worth > $Worthless and $Worth > 5>> You like yourself more than you don’t. That is enough. <<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>> You try to like yourself, but it is a struggle. <<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless > 5>> You tried. You just can’t stand to look at yourself. <<elseif $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>> You’re balanced, remarkably so. For now. <</if>> <span class="purple">//''WHO ARE YOU ROMANCING?''//</span> <<if $ImreRF > 14>> <<nobr>>He didn't think love could exist. When he looks at you, he wants to never let you go.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreRA > 14>> <<nobr>>His love feels like hatred at times. He wouldn't have it any other way with you.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRF > 14>> <<nobr>>She has loved you all her life. Internally, she is grateful you deigned to give her a chance.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRA > 14>> <<nobr>>She doesn't understand how is it that the person that exasperates her most is the one she loves above all others.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRF > 14>> <<nobr>>He loves you so much, far more than he ever thought capable. Oh god, what will he do?<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRA > 14>> <<nobr>>He would let you do a million horrible things to him. All just to feel your touch.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreRF > 9>> <<nobr>>You're not so much a spectre anymore. Not something untouchable or to be solely studied. You're real.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreRA > 9>> <<nobr>>He's a liar. He's a manipulator. He wants to drag you down with him. You can't help but want to disappear in his embrace.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRF > 9>> <<nobr>>An undercurrent of feeling she's never wanted to acknowledge. How could she? She didn't want to alienate you but now she's afraid she might take that risk.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRA > 9>> <<nobr>>You want to slap her, scream at her, kiss her and show her just what she missed all those years she left you. Your mouth waters just thinking of it.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRF > 9>> <<nobr>>He can't help but feel hope when he thinks of you. Your voice could be strong enough to save him. He so desperately wants it to be.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRA > 9>> <<nobr>>A hot urge, not quite rage, radiates to his hands. As he squeezes your neck, he wants to stroke it lovingly, a delicacy to feel your skin.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreRF > 4>> <<nobr>>Perhaps Imre. You intrigue him, like glimpsing a marvel in a glass jar.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreRA > 4>> <<nobr>>It might be Imre. You two clash so much it's hard to tell. His sweet words are like poison in your ear.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRF > 4>> <<nobr>>It could be Nia. You were once as close as family, you don't think she hates you. She just doesn't know where to begin.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaRA > 4>> <<nobr>>Somehow, it's Nia. Although each time you meet it's only to bump heads. But really, you think it's her fault.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRF > 4>> <<nobr>>Lorcan. When he thinks of you, when he speaks to you, there's no longer that anger he once felt and that terrifies him.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanRA > 4>> <<nobr>>Just the sound of your name ignites the molten pit in the centre of his chest. He wishes he could be indifferent to stop this affect. But he feels he would have to kill you or would have to kill himself.<</nobr>> <<else>> <<nobr>>No one.<</nobr>> <</if>> <span class="purple">//''FRIEND(S)?''//</span> <<if $ImreP >= 10>> <<nobr>>He doesn't allow many people close, but with you he wants to. You don't seem to be like everyone else.<</nobr>> <<elseif $ImreP >= 5>> <<nobr>>He thinks fondly of you.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaP >= 10>> <<nobr>>She has never been hopeful, but somehow you recovered what you had. It almost makes her cry.<</nobr>> <<elseif $NiaP >= 5>> <<nobr>>You're trying to mend a friendship left to wither in the elements.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanP >= 10>> <<nobr>>He never thought he would ever be able to be around you without wanting to pull out his hair, but now he doesn't even mind you. He even likes you.<</nobr>> <<elseif $LorcanP >= 5>> <<nobr>>Against his wishes, he admits you aren't so evil.<</nobr>> <<else>> <<nobr>>No one.<</nobr>> <</if>> <<back>> </h4>

Imre's friendly points at episode 7: 8 CHECK Imre's friendly points at episode 8: 10 Imre's friendly points at episode 9: 11 Imre's friendly points at episode 10: 12 Imre's friendly points at episode 11: 13 Imre's friendly points at episode 12: 15 Imre's antagonistic points at episode 7: 8 CHECK Imre's antagonistic points at episode 8: 10 Imre's antagonistic points at episode 9: 12 Imre's antagonistic points at episode 10: 15 Nia's friendly points at episode 7: 5 CHECK Nia's friendly points at episode 8: 7 Nia's friendly points at episode 9: 10 Nia's friendly points at episode 10: 12 Nia's friendly points at episode 11: 15 Nia's antagonistic points at episode 7: 5 CHECK Nia's antagonistic points at episode 8: 8 Nia's antagonistic points at episode 9: 11 Nia's antagonistic points at episode 10: 15 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 7: 4 CHECK Lorcan's friendly points at episode 8: 6 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 9: 9 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 10: 10 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 11: 12 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 12: 14 Lorcan's friendly points at episode 13: 15 Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 7: 3 CHECK Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 8: 5 Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 9: 8 Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 10: 9 Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 11: 10 <<secret branch that gives 4 points ON INVESTIGATIVE PATH ONLY WHERE CROWNY LOOKS AT THE BOX AND FALVOUR TEXT IS DEPENDENT ON MORALITY ON THE ACT/CHOICE TO GIVE THE LOCKET TO HIM OR NOT>> Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 12: 12 <<secret: 15>> Lorcan's antagonistic points at episode 13: 13 Percy has 7 potential points as of 7

Imre's at episode 7: 5 <<for sole romancers players it is 1>> Imre's at episode 8: 6 <<for sole romancers players it is 2>> Imre's at episode 9: 7 <<for sole romancers players it is 4>> Imre's at episode 10: 8 <<for sole romancers players it is 6>> Imre's at episode 11: 10 <<for sole romancers players it is 8>> Imre's at episode 12: <<for sole romancers players it is 10>> Nia's at episode 7: 5 (regardless of romancer player or platonic solely) Nia's at episode 8: 7 Nia's at episode 9: 9 Nia's at episode 10: 10 Lorcan's at episode 7: 2 (if romance player it is 1) Lorcan's at episode 8: 4 (if romancer it is 3) Lorcan's at episode 9: 6 (if romancer it is 4) Lorcan's at episode 10: 8 (if romancer it is 6) Lorcan's at episode 11: 9 (if romancer it is 7) Lorcan's at episode 12: 10 (if romancer it is 9) Lorcan's at episode 13: (if romancer it is 10)

Investigative points: episode 11 has the section after Percy which would let Crowny decide to investigate and early ending by leaving town or stay and choose to face the consequences. CHECK LORCAN'S SECRET POINTS HERE If one RO is 13-15 than they reveal the truth to crowny with the high investigative skill. Or platonic can who's 8-10. They hatch a plan in episode 11. WORTH AND WORTHLESS POINTS YOU CAN CURRENTLY GET 11 POINTS IN THE 7 EPISODES; MAKE THE CODE MORE THAN >9 POINTS THAN FOR PART 2 ADD PLAY TO THE NEXT BUTTON there are 22 detective points posible for part 1 more than 5 points for imre's code

Imre bombards Nia with questions about her father in which she says she hasn't even spoken to him about it. He then tries asking her what she knows about her mother. “I don't know anything about Yasmine Gumede's life before she married my dad,” Nia responds. “She left before I got into first grade, any little thing I knew I don't remember. I didn't even know what her last name was before I found her diary“ “Well that's not strange. I don't know much about my parents before they had me. Come to think of it, do any of us know who are parents were and were they were born before 1975?” Imre asks, looking at all of you. Lorcan looks up at the ceiling, his version of a thinking face. “My dad was born in town I'm pretty sure. No actually I'm totally sure. My grandma was a bit of a party-er but she swears she had him in town. I don't know about my moms.” Lorcan looks at you, so do the other two. You shrug, “beats me. My parents haven't been that present in my life and I don't know them now so it's even worse to know anything about them before I was born. Sally might know something.” “Maybe in this we find answers for why are parents are the way they are,” Imre postulates, holding up the diary. He grimaces and pivotes to the symbol. “It's a strange symbol,” Imre replies and hands it over to you. You look it over. It's nothing you've ever seen before. It starts off with an upside down triangle that breaks into four lines, two finish the triangle and the two others criss-cross each other. The bottom ends with what looks like V and so random curved lines. “Have any of you guys ever seen this before?” you ask around the table. None of them say yes. Imre folds the paper and puts it in his pocket. [[NEXT|Page 429]] </h3>

<h3>Is there anything else you have time to squeeze in? <hr>\ <<if $grades>>\ *==Work on your grades.== * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D*][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R*][$resume to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] <<elseif $drive>>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G*][$grades to true]] * ==Learn how to drive.== * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R*][$resume to true]] * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] <<elseif $resume>>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G*][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D*][$drive to true]] * ==Create a resume.== * [[Study up on the occult and the case.|Page 292][$detective to true]] * [[No.->Page 293]] <<elseif $detective>>\ * [[Work on your grades.|Page 292-G*][$grades to true]] * [[Learn how to drive.|Page 292-D*][$drive to true]] * [[Create a resume.|Page 292-R*][$resume to true]] * ==Study up on the occult and the case.== * [[No.->Page 293]] <</if>>\ </h3>

After walking by the cars never used by anyone for so long you grow tired of going on foot or being driven by the watchful eye of Arthur who reports everything back to your brother. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>> Lately, Sally's been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you and how 'maybe there are better available boys out there' and 'how family relations should be respected.' The former is due to Imre and all the latter is for Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>> Lately, Sally's been trying to have the gay talk with you, and how it's best to not give people reason to talk about you more. Which means he thinks you're dating Imre or Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. Also how it would be more publicly comfortable for you if you dressed more like a girl, just to not get people to talk if they mistakenly see two boys together. //Mistakenly.// More and more you feel like it's not a mistake at all. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And the gay talk. He says that two boys being seen together would just bring unwanted attention to you. But... //you're not a boy. Are you?// All this comes from spending so much time with Imre and Lorcan.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And how maybe as a pretty girl, you can pick better choices. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan. You wanted to correct him, not on the boys but about how he calls you a girl. Something about that has never felt right.<<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>> Lately, Sally's has been trying to have the boyfriend talk with you. And the gay talk. He says that two boys being seen together would just bring unwanted attention to you. He thinks you're spending too much time with Imre and Lorcan. You wanted to correct him, not on the boys but about how he calls you a boy. Something about that has never felt right.<</if>> Apart from your irritation with your actions constantly being watched, you're also tired of being old enough to drive and but knowing how. Sally would throw a fit if he found out that either of the boys were using the family cars so you have two options, either you self-teach or you ask Percy. You choose... <hr>\ * [[To learn by yourself.*]] * [[To ask Percy to teach you.*]]

<h3>“If you crash this car I hope we both die because the old man will beat my ass not yours Crazypants,” Percy warns. The seat belt clicks in place and you put your hands on the wheel. “You're a cheery teacher. Thanks for the support.” Percy puts on his old football helmet. “You don't know how to do anything $name, and you have shit luck so yeah I think we're dying today.” You roll your eyes and wait for him to put on his seat belt. You're in the old <<cycle '$cars' autoselect>><<option 'white corvette.'>><<option 'black Aston Martin.'>><<option 'red Thunderbird.'>><<option ' yellow Mercedes.'>><<option ' blue cadillac.'>><<option 'green Bel Air.'>><</cycle>> It was your grandfather's car he got in the 50s, it's been sitting idle since your dad was a teenager. You tap your fingers against the wheel as your brother's seat belt clicks. He gives you a expectant look and says, “wellllllll? Turn the damn thing on.” You take the keys out of your pockets. “When you turn the key, press down on the brake at the same time or it won't turn on,” he instructs. You do just so and the engine painfully roars to life. You and Percy wince as you hear the ugly noise that vaguely sounds like farting that comes from it. “First you gotta get used to the thing, so we aren't doing reversing today or driving on the roads. You're just going to drive at a slow enough speed down the dirt path and when you get to the road you're gonna brake and put it in park,” he tells you. Percy had backed up for you so you put your foot on the brake and move the stick shift down to 'D.' Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you feel the car move beneath you and all around you. Percy rolls the window down as the scenery slowly passes by, you're not yet ready to press down hard on the gas and he doesn't demand that you do. He does complain though. “By the time we get to the road Sally will have put out a missing person's ad for you. And all your pictures look shitty.” “Your pictures look like you smelled something bad,” you retort. “Does not.” <<set $driveP to true>> “Does too.” “Does not.” “Does too.” “Does n— STOP!“ You quickly look away from him and towards the road. In a panic you hit the gas and you're thrown back into the seat. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—“ You drive across the road and onto an oncoming car. Which is when you suddenly remember where the brake is. The driver slams their fist down on the horn and Percy screams at you to move but you've forgotten how to. The blaring of the other driver's horn is so loud you can't think and Percy suddenly shoves your head down and covers you with his body. You press your eyes closed and wait for the impact. Which takes longer than you expect. So long that you're finally aware that the horn has stopped. Percy moves off of you and you lift your head to see the driver sticking out his middle finger at you as he drives away. You let out a sigh of relief and say, “oh my g— OW!“ Percy twists your ear and brings it close to his mouth so he can yell into it. “FUCKING IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING DO YOU WANT TO DIE?! DON'T YOU KNOW WHERE THE FUCKING BRAKE PEDAL IS YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKING CRAZY IDIOT imbecile MENTALLY CHALLENGED—“and he goes on and on for the next five minutes it takes you to get the car back to the house. You lock the car and he roughly takes the keys from you. Watching him walk up the front steps you're surprised when he says, “the next time we do this you're driving in a field, bitch.” “Thank you!“ you yell as the front doors slam shut. [[NEXT->Page 293*]] </h3>

In school, you've always heard about the importance of resumes. The importance of jobs and experience. Never thinking you'd ever need a job, the current financial state of your family has you double guessing. The problem is, no one in their right mind would hire you. But maybe you'll make one for when you graduate and perhaps leave this town to a place where no one has any idea about you. A place where the name on your resume wouldn't immediately make a person throw it in the trash. Taking the plunge, you stay behind at school one day after the final bell and use the computer in the library. Which is so complicated you have to ask Ms. Frida to help you. Booting up the hulk of a thing takes around several minutes of waiting and you apprehensively scoot your chair back in case it could explode. A bathroom break later, it's finally on. A little... whatchamacallit 'pops' up greeting you. It tells you something about programs and start buttons. There's also little drawings made of pixels on the side which look too tech-y for you. When Ms. Frida instructs you on how to type, you wait a minute after she leaves before cautiously touching a key on the board. It's a nice sound. When it doesn't shut down or explode on you, you take out Sally's resume from your $holder for inspiration. <hr>\ * [[Make up lies.*]] * [[Use your supernatural cases.*]]

<h3>You have worked. That's not a lie. Yes, your jobs aren't legal. Yes, it could very well send you to jail or a direct meeting with the mayor which is probably worse than going to jail. You don't think your alliance with Imre would help much. But it's not fair that you risk your ass every week to help people and not being able to use that for real experience. You're not sure what sort of legitimate jobs you could get with the experience you have but one thing you know about resumes is that it's bad if it looks empty. So maybe you do say some of the things you did but... play around with them a bit. You just really need references anyway. <<if $S31>>So, for Mr. Ewekes you... cleaned? You nod to yourself. Yes, you cleaned his house. And exterminated a plethora of rats. Normal rats.<<elseif $S32>>Tina's shop was suffering from... you ponder. No, not suffering, you merely helped her create some art due to an uptake in demand.<<elseif $S33>>You type without thinking with Asia's case. Matchmaker seems too juvenile, so you say that you helped them clean the lake a bit for trash thrown in by teenagers.<</if>> <<if $S41>>You pinch your lip as you think of what to say about Phoenix. You were a... a food deliverer? Eh, it's better than nothing. Delivery to a sickly child, yeah that sounds noble.<<elseif $S42>>You pause when thinking about Charley who skipped town. There goes that reference. You simply type, //Religious teen counselor for odd youths.//<<elseif $S43>>Your blood still boils as you think of Stanley. That asshole better give a glowing reference and you know what? You leave up the lie to him.<</if>> You manage to fill a page and your cases look generic enough to look boring. Huh, you're a rather accomplished individual, and generous too. Look at you, giving back to the community. <<set $RS to true>> //Congrats, $name//, you sarcastically think. Printing it off is a whole other matter that you ask the librarian to once again help with. You flinch when the hunk of metal whirs out your thin resume. You don't think you'll ever be into technology like this. Freshly warm in your hand, you put it into a manila folder and shove it in your $holder. Well, that's enough productivity until tomorrow. [[NEXT|Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>By the grace of God, your class has managed to reach the third circle of Hell, gluttony. Mrs. Paulson has given you a piece of text from that section and asked you to analyze it and say what it means to you. When she gets the usual moans and grumbles she says that it helps with media literacy. Whatever that means. <<set $HWE to true>>\ //“Return unto thy science, Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is, The more it feels of pleasure and of pain. Albeit that this people maledict To true perfection never can attain, Hereafter more than now they look to be.”// You know of pain, of pleasure a bit less. Perfection, another thing you don't know much about but your sister did, you wonder if she ever felt she achieved it. You look up at your tree, moving its branches in front of your window. It feels so strange to do something so normal. Given... everything. Your watch shows it's 4 o'clock on the dot. You sigh and begin writing. <hr>\ * [[You say that the stanza is about unattainability.|Page 293]] * [[You say that the stanza is about envy.|Page 293]] </h3>

<h3>How could it be any other way? She was perfect. Unlike you. She deserves it, unlike you. You don't even have a right to be angry or disappointed. What are you in the face of someone obviously better. No one will care for you this much when you die and they're right to. <<set $Worthless += 1>> Your mind begins conjuring up thoughts that plagued you before when you were at your worst in the asylum. Dr. Madorna would chastise you, telling you that thinking so lowly of yourself was unhealthy. That all human life was worth something. But as you're surrounded by love not meant for you, you can't believe her. You tap on a cardboard heart. And you step away. Your mood plunging so hard that if you don't leave now you might actually do something incredibly stupid like hurt yourself. You wouldn't want the janitor to be is inconvenienced. They have better things to do. But that's not important anymore. Because of your new-found newspaper reading habit you caught yourself being front page news a few days after Stephanie had been found, and after you had started school. It was an old picture of you from tenth grade and although there was mention of your interrogation at the police station, it was a brief. The majority of the piece was about the welcome home party — where Sally was mentioned more than you — and some anonymous opinions about you returning to school and how //'scared I am for my children'//, according to one parent. They did call the manor for comment but Sally wouldn't let you answer and said to the reporter that you had no comments to make. You close and fold the newspaper, throwing it back on the desk. As you think of going back to what you were doing you hear a car drive along the dirt path. You lean your neck forward, your hands gripping the windowsill. You spot the Buick Roadster in front of the house. You swing your legs onto the desk and climb into your room. Lorcan was right. The help sees everything. [[NEXT->Page 190]] </h3>

<h4>__Symbols and what they mean__ ♥ Friendly Romance interactions Your character tends to act as kindly as they can when interacting with an RO. ♡ Antagonistic Romance interactions Your character tends to be more abrasive with an RO. ⟡ Platonic Interactions Your character views another solely platonically. 🜒 Low morality Your character tends to act in questionably morally bankrupt ways. 🜥 High morality Your character tends to think and do morally good things. ☄ High worth Your character has a high view of themself. It can either be a good or bad thing depending on morality. ☽ Low worth Your character has a low view of themself. <<back>> </h4>

<h3>The rest of the way to the house doesn't let up with the traffic. The rain seems to intensify in its velocity, the drops sounding more like pebbles against the roof. Imre turns onto the path and you make to unbuckle your seatbelt but he keeps driving. “You're going to take me all the way to the front door?” “That is usually the intention behind driving someone home, and this path is far too long for my liking,” he responds.<<set $pathi to true>> <<if $kissy >>You don't fight with him on this. What happened between you two makes you want to get as far away from him as you can. You want to swipe at your lips.<<elseif $kissyi >>You don't fight with him on this. What happened between you two makes you want to get as far away from him as you can. You want to swipe at your lips.<<elseif $handl >>You let go off his hand, he looks down as your hand withdraws to your lap.<<elseif $handnol >>Now that he's dropping you off, maybe you should've have taken the chance and held his hand.<<elseif $niai >>You assent, it's still raining heavily anyway.<<elseif $lorcani >>You assent, it's still raining heavily anyway.<</if>> Imre drives slowly down the path, deep puddles making him jerk to the sides. The mud under the tires makes for a slow journey. You eye the woods, the gaps between the trees showing an inside that is nearly invisible in darkness. Eventually, you see the towering manor in between the much more sparse trees on Imre's side. The car stops when at the front of the house. You're perpendicular to the front doors and to Arthur who's sitting on the front steps, hiding under the cover of the porch. He puts out his cigarette discreetly — or what he deems discreetly — and lifts up his arm to wave at you. He shouts something but you can't hear him through the windows or the rain. Imre rolls down his window and greets the driver, “hello Arthur, it's nice to see you.” [[NEXT->Page 317-i]] </h3>

<h3>“Yeah, no thanks.“ Percy clicks his tongue, “whyyy nottttt?“ You sit back in your seat. “I'm not in the mood to be the source of your twisted medical fantasies.“ “Now, you make me sound like the bad guy,“ he sticks out his tongue. “Come on! I swear I won't be a dick.“ You close your eyes, “you'd have to change your DNA, brother.“ He hits you on the arm but you refuse to engage with him. He spends the rest of the ride trying to annoy you for rejecting his curiosity. [[NEXT|Page 127]] </h3>

<h2>S1 EPISODE 8: When We Pretend That We’re Dead</h2> <h3>What do you think Dante Alighieri felt when he met Satan in the frozen lake? Crying at forever being trapped in a prison of his own making? His own flapping wings harden the icy water that retains him. In the extensive moralizing of his descent into hell, for a moment… a mere moment… do you think he felt pity? If not for the fallen angel then for the three traitors condemned to eternity to never be truly eaten as they were munched on by his monstrous teeth? How much is enough? Is there ever a sufficient time frame to pay for a sin you would consider the most wicked? Who is the punishment for? The sinner or the sinned? If the sinner, instead of repenting, swims in his wrath, is it justified from him to retaliate? If you avenged yourself against his harm, would he not be entitled to do the same especially if you created what he has now become? If you say yes, your fairness knows little bounds. It is not a good thing. If you say no, you better run. Hell hath no fury like a god driven mad by righteous insatiability. [[NEXT|Page 512]] </h3>

<h3>//Welcome back to your favourite nightly horror show! Are you in massive debt? Found out your husband is seeing you sister behind you back? Dog ran away? You got a nasty bunion that you tried to poke with a knife but ended up slicing your toe off and have to spend 13 hours in the ER for them to tell you they can’t reattach it and now you’ll have to use a cane and the neighborhood kids kick the cane out from under you and throw mudpies at you? WELL NONE OF THAT MATTERS! This tale of horrible haunts, twisted trees and dreadful eyes makes you look at your life and think ‘huh, my life isn’t so bad.’ Isn’t that just beautiful? So sit back, pop open a nice cold beer and fix that damn antenna or the reception will be grainy, Bob! This message was brought to you by our moust illustrious Mayor Muran. Who —between us girls— has been bugging to be on the show! Honestly... it’s getting annoying. Wait... I can’t say that on air? Why? Really? Broken? Where did his right eye go? Turnips... Onto the show!// [[NEXT|Episode 8: When We Pretend That We're Dead]] </h3>

<h3>When he married his young bride he had believed it would be smooth sailing. How hard could it be to do what a man and woman do? Mankind has been doing it for thousands of years. All that was needed of him was to keep the line going. But his father didn’t tell him everything. He didn’t tell him the sacrifice that would entail. And once he saw so he resorted to never developing the feelings that would make such a sacrifice hurt. It was so easy. He had stopped loving his wife rather quickly after they were engaged. He had been compelled to act less than gentlemanly-like when he first laid eyes on her. She was so beautiful. But she didn’t have what it took to carry the Crown name. She was too egotistical and greedy. She hated the town and would talk his ear off on traveling the world. A smarter woman would have seen the signs and acted accordingly to her husband’s wishes. He thought he was asking for too much. It’s hard for women to be even remotely intelligent. If she would’ve been she would’ve thought to tell him her issue instead of lying for so long. Although, she could’ve been lying about her problem in the first place. The birth of his second son is proof of that. <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ The last child, a girl was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw her, he was surprised. She looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that she didn’t cry. The midwife slapped her bottom and she made no sound. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ The last child, a boy was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw him, he was surprised. He looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that he didn’t cry. The midwife slapped his bottom and he made no sound. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ The last child, a boy was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw him, he was surprised. He looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that he didn’t cry. The midwife slapped his bottom and he made no sound. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ The last child, a girl was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw her, he was surprised. She looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that she didn’t cry. The midwife slapped her bottom and she made no sound. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ The last child, a girl was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw her, he was surprised. She looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that she didn’t cry. The midwife slapped her bottom and she made no sound. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ The last child, a boy was not intended. He had two offerings and one spare. But they had told him that a fourth child was needed. He didn’t ask why. When he first saw him, he was surprised. He looked like a child. What perplexed him was the fact that he didn’t cry. The midwife slapped his bottom and he made no sound. <</if>>\ But the baby looked healthy and… <hr>\ <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ * [[He named her|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named her|Page 513]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ * [[He named him|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named him|Page 513]] <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ * [[He named him|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named him|Page 513]] <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ * [[He named her|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named her|Page 513]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[He named her|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named her|Page 513]] <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ * [[He named him|Page 513][$fathername to true]] * [[His wife named him|Page 513]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $fathername>>\ <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. A feminized version of the name of her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. After her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. After her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. A feminized version of the name of her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. A feminized version of the name of her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ He did it to hurt her and it worked. After her first love, the one she spent the rest of their marriage comparing him to. <<else>>\ <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ She never told him why she named her that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time she was born. But he knew she served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure she never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about her condition. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ She never told him why she named him that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time he was born. But he knew he served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure he never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about his condition. <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ She never told him why she named him that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time he was born. But he knew he served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure he never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about his condition. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ She never told him why she named her that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time she was born. But he knew she served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure she never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about her condition. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ She never told him why she named her that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time she was born. But he knew she served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure she never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about her condition. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ She never told him why she named him that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She never told him why she named him that, she said it was the name of her childhood teddy bear but he didn’t believe her. She hated that child. He could guess why but he was fair enough to not believe the child should pay for the signs of the mother. If only she had done her duty… Of course, he didn’t love his fourth child either. The finite well where his love was stored was empty by the time he was born. But he knew he served a bigger purpose that is why he dedicated his time to making sure he never faced legal trouble and went to and fro to see doctors about his condition. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ He prayed for an explanation. He even dared to ask during the winter solstice while the others glared at him for his impertinence. But his pleas were never answered. And only when he was at his wits’ end did he finally have the talk his father had with him with his son. [[NEXT|Page 514]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>//Nov 1994//<<audio "creep1" loop play>> The thick viscous slime falls onto your head in foul plops. It smelled like blood and fleshy rot. You could feel the queasiness at the base of your mouth. Your muscles have turned into cement and for a moment you think you’ll never leave here. You’ll be condemned to spend the rest of your life at the mercy of what you can’t see. And you have to ask yourself once more, why you? Your partners-in-crime stand equally as frozen in front of you. But your perception abilities are muted currently. It’d be foolish to think about them. Thinking about yourself as more important is something rather foreign to you. But tonight has been a strange and long night. Certain things are bound to flip on their heads. “What do I do?” you ask. You whisper but the utter lack of noise in the forest makes it as if you’ve screamed it. Nia, who has told you to not move looks as lost as you feel. “Imre?” she asks, not able to turn her head to look at him. Imre for his part looks mesmerized. Nia swallows and just says, “let’s just think of something.” //Turn around.// [[NEXT|Page 515]] </h3>

<h3>It’s loud in your head. The words vibrate in your mind like tens of voices. Beseeching, demanding, pleading and abusing you to do as they ask. And you… <hr>\ * [[☄ Want to turn around|Page 516][$reply to true]] * [[Are terrified to do so|Page 516]] * [[☽ Deserve it|Page 516][$reply1 to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $reply>>\ Why not? Isn’t it finally time to see the hunter? To show it that you’re not as scared of it as the others. That tonight has shown you something new and valuable about yourself. But there’s a difference between defiance and stupidity. You’re not looking to die tonight. You’re tired and there’s nothing more enticing to you than to fall down onto a warm bed. <<set $Worthless += 1>> And you think of a quote from //Inferno//. When Dante meets the devil, Virgil says to him: <center>//‘Behold Dis, and behold the place Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.’//</center> <<elseif $reply1>>\ Somewhere deep down you know that’s what it wants. To see scare the hell outta of you before it kills you or swallows you up; whatever comes first. And you’re very close to pissing yourself. You really don’t want to die right now. All you want to die is to sleep after such a long night. <<set $Worth += 1>> And you think of a quote from //Inferno//. When Dante meets the devil, Virgil says to him: <center>//‘Behold Dis, and behold the place Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.’//</center> <<else>>\ You’re exhausted. It’s been a long night and there's death on your shoulders. Why not just give up? It would be so easy. Although you know they won’t let you. Not after what you’ve all done. But god, wouldn’t it be nice? And you think of a quote from //Inferno//. When Dante meets the devil, Virgil says to him: <center>//‘Behold Dis, and behold the place Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.’//</center> <</if>>\ So what to do? And as you’re thinking this you feel something wet and rough lick your hand and you recoil. //Turn around.// <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You think back to all the supernatural shit you’ve encountered since you got back. The people you’ve helped. You did that all yourself, it must count for something right? The problem is… you don’t know what you’re dealing with. The only option is to rely on instinct from your well of knowledge. You take one step forward. Nia grits her teeth, “Birdie, what the fuck are you going?” You swallow, your mouth coated with mud. “Just trust me.” Nia looks like she wants to smack you. You take another step and a twig cracks underneath your foot. You wait with bated breath. You take note of the position of the bright lights on the trees behind the others. Lorcan looks down at his feet and he keeps whispering something but you can’t make it out. You take a few more steps and hear rustling through the tree tops and a hot wind hit your back. “Birdie, stop where you are,” Nia persists. [[NEXT|Page 517]] <<else>>\ You look at Imre and you beg, “Imre what do I do?” Imre slowly looks down at you and tilts his head. It’s hard for you to read him but you could swear he seems to be pondering something. Imre says, “Lorcan.” A simple command but it gets Lorcan to pull his hand out of his pocket. It’s tightly clenched and he holds it up. He says a few words that you can’t make out. An ear-bleeding screech makes you all cover your ears. You feel as if your brain wants to slip out through your ears. You can feel your blood rush to your face and darkness creeps at the edge of your vision. Your wobbly legs threaten to throw you over but you don’t need that awful sound to do so. [[NEXT|Page 517*]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“No, that will get them killed. It loves a chase,” Imre interjects. His eyes are still on it, the light is so bright you can’t tell if he’s either smiling or grimacing. <<if $tname>>\ “$tname, keep walking slowly towards us,” he instructs. <<else>>\ “$name, keep walking slowly towards us,” he instructs. <</if>>\ You feel the need to tell him that you were already going to do that. <<if $Worth > 4>>\ “You’re the only expert here,” you retort and restrain yourself from rolling your eyes in this very inappropriate moment. He laughs. Of course he’s not the one in danger. <<elseif $Worthless < 5>>\ But you won’t do that. He’s studied for years, your experience is pathetic compared to his. <<elseif $Worthless > 4>>\ You would like to but for some reason the words don't leave you. <<elseif $Worth < 5>>\ But not, you feel embarassed with even thinking about it. <</if>>\ //Why do you still resist? How stubborn. However, I am a bit impressed. Where is that cowardice I know so well that would have you run with your tail between your legs?// <<if $rescueI>>\ You take another step and within arms reach of Imre. Then you hear a sound. No, the word sound sounds far too limiting to describe it. <<elseif $rescueL>>\ You take another step and within arms reach of Lorcan. Then you hear a sound. No, the word sound sounds far too limiting to describe it. <<elseif $rescueN>>\ You take another step and within arms reach of Nia. Then you hear a sound. No, the word sound sounds far too limiting to describe it. <<else>>\ You take another step and within arms reach. Then you hear a sound. No, the word sound sounds far too limiting to describe it. <</if>>\ You feel as if the very nature around you is shifting. The ground beneath you shakes and the trees tremble. The air hitting your back is nearly scorching if not downright giving you three degree burns. And you feel you’re about to die. You brace yourself for the pain that this beast promises when the ground beneath you jumps and you fall to your side. //Not yet. Soon.// [[NEXT|Page 518]] </h3>

<h3>You feel as if the very nature around you is shifting. The ground beneath you shakes and the trees tremble. The air hitting your back is nearly scorching if not downright giving you three degree burns. And you feel you’re about to die. You brace yourself for the pain that this beast promises when the ground beneath you jumps and you fall to your side. //Not yet. Soon.// [[NEXT|Page 518]] </h3>

<h3>You grunt as your head hits off a sharp edge and you feel a warmth running down the side of your face. <<audio "creep1" stop>><<audio "forest" loop play>> You open your eyes and the forest is once more shrouded in darkness. The others have equally been thrown to the forest floor. But Imre is instantly up and walks forward. He looks into the darkness that held whatever-that-was. <<if $rescueL>>\ Lorcan stretches out a hand to you. <hr>\ * [[Take it|Page 519][$takeL to true]] * [[Get up yourself|Page 519][$noLo to true]] <<else>>\ Nia stretches out a hand to you. <hr>\ * [[Take it|Page 519][$takeN to true]] * [[Get up yourself|Page 519][$noNo to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $takeL>>\ His hand is cold and clammy but he manages to pull you up. “Thanks,” you say. He doesn’t respond. <<elseif $noLo>>\ You ignore his hand and stand up, albeit with wobbly legs. “I’m fine,” you insist. <<elseif $takeN>>\ Her hand is warm and strong as she pulls you up. “Thank you,” you say a bit too formally. She’s already looking away. <<elseif $noNo>>\ You ignore her hand and stand up, albeit with wobbly legs. “I’m fine,” you insist. <</if>>\ “Imre,” you say. He slowly looks over at you and the expression on his face is one that in no way surprises you. He looks joyous. “You didn’t see it,” he says. “No, I was a bit busy,” you respond sarcastically, you grip your throat. “Yo, can you stop trying to jerk it for that thing? Let’s the get the fuck outta here,” Lorcan says gruffly. Imre tsks and turns around. “Are none of you curious as to what we saw?” He looks from you to the other two, his eyebrows raised. Nia shakes her head and walks away, touching the tree trunks to avoid falling. Lorcan throws a quick look to where that thing was and hurries after Nia. <hr>\ * [[Ask Imre what he saw|Page 520][$askL to true]] * [[Follow the others|Page 520]] </h3>

<h3><<if $askL>>\ “What did it look like? What was it?” you ask. He rubs his chin and smiles. “How could I begin to explain?” “From the beginning is always good,” you reply. Too fatigued to deal with his games. “If only there was a beginning. Artists all throughout history have found it difficult to accurately predict what an angel looks like in the bible. How could one describe such marvel?” he muses and walks after the others. “Dick,” you mumble under your breath.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> “It had lights all over its… body. But it wasn’t a mechanical light. It pulsed and I theorize that perhaps those are its eyes,” he says loudly. <<else>>\ You quickly run to catch up to the others and when you look back Imre has managed to catch up to you. His walk is leisurely, his hands are tucked into his pockets as if he’s taking a stroll in the moonlight. <</if>>\ You walk in single file. No one speaks nor do you think anyone wants to speak. The only person whose spirit seems to have risen is the de facto leader of the group. The temperature has dropped and your thin costume does little to protect you. Shivering, you press your lips together to silence their chattering but it doesn’t work. Lorcan huffs into his hands, his breath is visible in the air. You don’t know how long you work for. It could be a few minutes or even an hour. Perhaps you’re just going in circles? Making a circuit around town. That would be just what you need to end this night with a groan. “Worst Halloween ever,” Lorcan complains. “It hasn’t been so bad,” Imre replies. “Freak.” “You’re always so lovely and succinct, Lorcan,” Imre snarks. “Can you both… please…,” Nia sighs and she stumbles. Lorcan grabs onto her. “Are you ok?” he asks. You stop walking and watch as Imre goes to Nia’s other side and gently throws an arm around her waist. “What is it querida?” he inquires. Nia leans her head against his shoulder and whispers, “Imre, what’s going on?” He rubs her waist and whispers something back. You feel… <hr>\ <<if $Imre>>\ * [[♡ Jealous. Why is he touching her like that?|Page 521][$ji to true]] * [[♥ Envious. You used to be the friend she leaned on.|Page 521][$ei to true]] * [[⟡ Glad he’s taking care of her|Page 521][$gi to true]] * [[Nothing|Page 521]] <<elseif $Nia>>\ * [[♡ Jealous. Why is she letting him touch her?|Page 521][$jn to true]] * [[♥ Envious. You used to be the friend she leaned on.|Page 521][$en to true]] * [[⟡ Glad he’s taking care of her|Page 521][$gn to true]] * [[Nothing|Page 521]] <<elseif $Lorcan>>\ * [[⟡ Glad she has support |Page 521][$gl to true]] * [[You don’t care about her|Page 521][$dc to true]] * [[Nothing|Page 521]] <<else>>\ * [[⟡ Glad she has support |Page 521][$gl to true]] * [[You don’t care about her|Page 521][$dc to true]] * [[Nothing|Page 521]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $ji>>\ Logically you know Imre only sees her as a friend but you can’t help but narrow your eyes on his arm. He’s never comforted you like that. Does he care more about her than you? It boils your blood. <<elseif $ei>>\ Why is he in your place? You had those privileges for longer than he did. You should be there because you know her better than he ever could. And you want him to be yours but you don’t want him to take her from you. You catch your spiralling thoughts and instantly feel bad. Who are you to judge them? <<elseif $gi>>\ You’ve never been good at comforting people. Unsurprising given your lack of people skills. It’s been a hard night for everyone, it must be if someone like Nia is crumbling. <<elseif $ei>>\ Yes. You know for a fact that Nia has never entertained viewing Imre as anything more than her friend but it still makes you angry that he’s so blatantly getting his paws on her. Why does she care so much about him? It makes your blood boil. <<elseif $en>>\ Why is he in your place? You had those privileges for longer than he did. You should be there because you know her better than he ever could. Why doesn’t she push him away? Show him that it’s you that should be there. You catch your spiralling thoughts and instantly feel bad. Who are you to judge them? <<elseif $gn>>\ You’ve never been good at comforting people. Unsurprising given your lack of people skills. It’s been a hard night for everyone, it must be if someone like Nia is crumbling. She deserves someone who can do it right. <<elseif $gl>>\ You’ve never been good at comforting people. Unsurprising given your lack of people skills. It’s been a hard night for everyone, it must be if someone like Nia is crumbling. She deserves someone who can do it right. <<elseif $dc>>\ Nor do you care about him that much. They can do whatever they want. You just want to leave these damn woods. <<else>>\ Obviously someone was going to fawn. You didn’t think it was going to be her. <</if>>\ <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ Lorcan watches them for a second before turning to you. “How did you know what to do?” “What?” you look away from them. “Most people what’ve fucking run but you didn’t. Why?” he asks. You shrug. “I have dealt with scary shit before this. Probably not to this extent but like this isn’t my first rodeo.” “That’s weird. You and Imre are into some fucked up stuff,” he asserts. “I was trying to help people,” you claim, a bit of irritation in your voice. His eyebrows furrow. “Shit. Why would you do something like that?” “That’s my business. If you’re so surprised it’s because you don’t know me that well,” you say. His expression remains the same but he doesn’t retort. <<else>>\ Your eyes slide away from them and land on Lorcan. He keeps rubbing his hands together. “What did you do?” you ask. He looks away from them too and asks, “what are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, “c’mon. You know what I mean. You did something and that’s why it went away.” “Maybe you hit your head really hard,” he replies. “Fucked you up more than you already are.” “You’re lying,” you claim. “Believe whatever. I’m a drug dealer not a witch,” he says. “That would be a warlock not a witch.” <<if $Lorcan>>\ “Cool,” he replies. You wait for the addition of an eye roll, a sneer or an insulting nickname but he just looks at you for a few moments before clearing his throat and quickly looking away. <<elseif $LorcanP > 2>>\ Lorcan considers what you said. “Nerd.” <<elseif $LorcanP < 2>>\ “Ugh,” he sneers. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 522]] </h3>

<h3>You don’t know how you have the energy to make the rest of the trek but after what feels like forever you see the paved road in front of you. You could almost smile. You're the first to reach it and the others soon arrive. You look around the empty road and at each other. Imre checks his watch, “an hour until sunrise.” “Wasn’t it just 3 AM?” Lorcan asks. “I’m going to pass out,” you say. “Where do we go?” Imre asks. “You have a house. We all have houses—” Lorcan begins. A pair of headlights appears down the street. You put your hand over your eyes. The car stops in front of you and the lights make you unable to see who sits in the driver’s seat. “Why doesn’t he come out?” Lorcan asks. “It could be a she,” Nia weakly says. “Fine,” he spits, “why doesn’t she come out?” Imre steadies Nia and leaves her side, he walks over to the driver’s side and slightly bends down. You hear a series of words exchanged before Imre nods and walks back over to you. [[NEXT|Page 523]] </h3>

<h3><<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ “Well?” you ask. “Who is it and what do they want?” Imre responds, “it’s your chauffeur.” You blink. “Arthur? What is he doing here?” Imre seems deep in thought when he replies to you, “that’s what I’m wondering.” <<else>>\ “Who is it?” Nia asks. <<if $nickname>>\ Imre responds, “it’s $nickname’s chauffeur.” <<elseif $tnick>>\ Imre responds, “it’s $tnick’s chauffeur.” <<elseif $tname>>\ Imre responds, “it’s $tname’s chauffeur.” <<else>>\ Imre responds, “it’s $name’s chauffeur.” <</if>>\ You blink. “Arthur?” “What the hell is he doing drivin’ around so damn early?” Lorcan asks. Imre seems deep in thought when he replies, “that’s what I’m wondering.” <</if>>\ Lorcan nudges you forward, “go talk to him.” You sigh and walk over. Arthur smiles at you and rolls down the rest of the window. “Hello $prefix.” “You’re working at this hour?” you ask. “Your brother was worried about you,” he replies with a smile. Your eyebrows furrow. You don’t forget that you saw him in places where you and the others were hanging out. That could easily be chalked up to coincidence, it is a very small town and Arthur doesn’t have much work these days. But… showing up at nearly six am out of nowhere precisely where you ended up leaving the woods with how big the forest is in this town? [[NEXT|Page 524]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You generally don’t want to think ill of people no matter how duplicitous they can be. You know there are people who just happen to be good. Though, call it instinct but something about the way he’s smiling at you makes the hair’s at the back of your neck stand up. “Ok. Um, I think we need a ride. I just have to ask my friends,” you say. <<elseif $Ethical < 5>>\ You generally don’t want to think ill of people no matter how duplicitous they can be. You know there are people who just happen to be good. Though, you constantly struggle with that trust. “Ok. Um, I think we need a ride. I just have to ask my friends,” you say. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ Some people will call you bitter, an asshole or plain misanthropic but you don’t trust human nature. No one does anything purely for altruistic reasons and you don’t believe in coincidences. He’s up to something and it makes you want to wipe the doofy smile off his face. “All of us are pretty wiped out,” you point back to the others, “I’ll go ask if they want a ride.” <<elseif $Corrupt < 5>>\ Some people will call you bitter, an asshole or plain misanthropic but you struggle with trusting human nature. You struggle with believing anyone does anything purely for altruistic reasons but you’re not so yet disillusioned. “All of us are pretty wiped out,” you point back to the others, “I’ll go ask if they want a ride.” <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical > 0 and $Corrupt > 0>>\ You don’t understand people, not truly. You don't get why they lie. Why they might do things for others for nothing nor why they do things for something. But you're not stupid. Regardless of your lack of care of moral character, you don't know whether you can trust Arthur or not. “All of us are pretty wiped out,” you point back to the others, “I’ll go ask if they want a ride.” <</if>>\ “Oki doki,” he replies brightly. You walk back and before you can say something your eyes widen at the state in which your accomplices find themselves in. Mud has hardened in their hair, their faces, their clothes — which look like sacks of potatoes — and their shoes are unsalvageable. You can’t even begin to imagine what you look like. You could all pass for children who have been living in the jungle for weeks. “Well?” Imre asks. “He could give us a ride,” you say. [[NEXT|Page 525]] </h3>

<h3>“But it’s really fucking weird that he’s out here right?” Lorcan asks. “I’m not the only one who thinks that right? Unless your family exploits your employees that badly Crowny.” “Weird or not I can’t walk all the way home in these shoes,” Nia says. “I think we should accept,” Imre says in a thoughtful voice. “Crowny?” Lorcan turns to you. “It’s 2 to 1.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “It’ll be a tie if she votes in your favour,” Imre says. Lorcan throws up his hands. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “It’ll be a tie if he votes in your favour,” Imre says. Lorcan throws up his hands. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ “It’ll be a tie if they vote in your favour,” Imre says. Lorcan throws up his hands. <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ * [[Say yes because Imre has a plan|Page 526][$plana to true]] * [[Say yes because you want to know what Arthur’s deal is|Page 526][$plana2 to true]] * [[Say no even though it will be a tie|Page 526][$imrethreaten to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Say yes because it’s the easiest thing to do|Page 526][$noplan to true]] * [[Say no even though it will be a tie|Page 526][$imrethreaten to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $plana>>\ “Ok. I don’t want to walk all the way home,” you say. Imre and Nia look relieved while Lorcan just mumbles under his breath. You start walking to the car when Imre once again speaks. “We should be together for the next few hours.” “Why?” you ask. “To get our story straight for the cops,” Nia responds tiredly. “I don’t care where we go, I just need to sleep. I can’t show up like this to my house, my father would lose his mind.” “My house is likely still full of many people, we’ll be seen,” Imre explains. They look at you. Your house is more isolated and less populated but Sally is clearly already awake — that is if he ever went to sleep – if you show up like this he’ll never let you leave the house again. He’ll still be angry if you show up later but at least Arthur will be able to tell him you’re ok and you can bathe at someone’s house. Three pairs of eyes look at Lorcan. He rolls his eyes and sighs, “Chez Stark it is.” “I always wanted to experience low-income housing,” Imre says jovially. Lorcan shoulder-checks him as he passes. The three slide into the back and that leaves you the passenger seat. Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password6">> <<elseif $plana2>>\ Imre is up to something and it might be the same thing you’re trying to figure out. What does Arthur want and what does he know? “Ok. I don’t want to walk all the way home,” you say. Imre and Nia look relieved while Lorcan just mumbles under his breath. You start walking to the car when Imre once again speaks. “We should be together for the next few hours.” “Why?” you ask. “To get our story straight for the cops,” Nia responds tiredly. “I don’t care where we go, I just need to sleep. I can’t show up like this to my house, my father would lose his mind.” “My house is likely still full of many people, we’ll be seen,” Imre explains. They look at you. Your house is more isolated and less populated but Sally is clearly already awake — that is if he ever went to sleep – if you show up like this he’ll never let you leave the house again. He’ll still be angry if you show up later but at least Arthur will be able to tell him you’re ok and you can bathe at someone’s house. Three pairs of eyes look at Lorcan. He rolls his eyes and sighs, “Chez Stark it is.” “I always wanted to experience low-income housing,” Imre says jovially. Lorcan shoulder-checks him as he passes. The three slide into the back and that leaves you the passenger seat. Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password6">> <<elseif $noplan>>\ “Yeah I really do not want to walk anymore,” you yawn. Imre and Nia look relieved while Lorcan just mumbles under his breath. The three slide into the back and that leaves you the passenger seat. Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password6">> <<elseif $imrethreaten>>\ “No. I think this whole situation is weird and we’re better off walking,” you claim. “Thank you!” Lorcan yells to the sky. <<if $tname>>\ Imre smiles and says kindly, “can I have a word with you for a moment $tname?” <<else>>\ Imre smiles and says kindly, “can I have a word with you for a moment $name?” <</if>>\ He walks to the tree line and you reluctantly step behind for a moment. Lorcan voices your thoughts when he says, “what the hell does he want?” Nevertheless you start walking over to him. Nia’s eyes catch yours. Her tired expression becomes alert as her eyes follow you. “What?” you ask as you stop in front of the trees. Imre tries to run a hand through his matted hair but it gets tangled. “I think we should take the offer,” he asserts. [[NEXT|Page 527*]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“Why?” Imre’s dark blue eyes peer into yours. “I want to observe him. Lorcan is right that all this seems strange. It’s best to have Arthur close.” You cross your arms, “I don’t want that.” Imre’s smile grows cold and you press your nails into your palm. “I think you should reconsider.” “If I don’t?” you ask. He laconically replies, “poor James. Such an unfortunate incident, was it not? I can’t imagine the unbearable pain his parents will go through when they realize he’s missing. That pain is only rudimentary compared to the sorrow of possibly finding out he was murdered.” Your blood goes cold. “What are you saying?” “And who would they suspect immediately?” he cups his chin, “perhaps the person who he vulgarly humiliated in front of eighty people?” “You’re blackmailing me,” you state. He slowly smiles, “I like to think of it as persuading you to take a course of action that could benefit you. It would be rather bothersome to have a busybody in your own home.” <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ <hr>\ * [[♥ Reject his idea|Page 528*][$fi to true]] * [[♡ Get angry|Page 528*][$ai to true]] * [[⟡ Make your displeasure known|Page 528*][$pi to true]] * [[Reprimand him|Page 528*]] <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ <hr>\ * [[♥ Accept|Page 528**][$fi to true]] * [[♡ Call out his betrayal|Page 528**][$ai to true]] * [[⟡ Tell him what you think about him|Page 528**][$pi to true]] * [[Curse him out|Page 528**]] <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical >= 3 and $Ethical <= 6 and $Corrupt >= 3 and $Corrupt <= 6>>\ <hr>\ * [[♥ Accept|Page 528**][$ti to true]] * [[♡ Roll your eyes|Page 528*][$ri to true]] * [[⟡ Yawn|Page 528**][$yi to true]] * [[Walk away|Page 528*][$wi to true>> <<elseif $Ethical == $Corrupt>>\ <hr>\ * [[♥ Reject his idea|Page 528*][$fi to true]] * [[♡ Call out his betrayal|Page 528**][$ai to true]] * [[⟡ Tell him what you think about him|Page 528**][$pi to true]] * [[Reprimand him|Page 528*]] <<else>>\ And you know you can’t do anything. That’s what comes from being indecisive. With frustration you nod stiffly. Imre grins oh-so-smugly. “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“You’re horrible,” you say. “I’m not happy he’s dead. But that can’t be taken back.” “I would never dream of accusing you of being happy over his demise,” he says in a sympathetic voice. <<if $fi>>\ “I thought after you helped me with James it meant you cared,” you say, trying not to let your voice shake. Imre takes a step closer and gently caresses your cheek. His expression is so kind it could be so easy to believe him. “Say yes,” he says softly, running his finger along your lip. <<if $Worthless > 4>> “Yes,” your breath catches. You’re lost in his dark eyes. You become a puddle when he’s near. He grins gently. <<elseif $Worth > 4>> “I’m not your toy,” you say resolutely. It’s hard to make your voice heard with how he makes you feel. Even with your words you find yourself kissing his thumb. “You’re fortunate I’m still talking to you after what you did to me.” He grins gently. “I know, cariño.” <</if>> <<elseif $ai>>\ “So helping me with James was just to use me? Typical from a heartless man who feels nothing,” you snap, trying not to let your voice shake. How could you be so stupid? This is a game to him. Imre takes a step closer and gently caresses your cheek. His expression is so kind it could be so easy to believe him if you were as enamored as the rest of his prey. “Say yes,” he says softly, running his finger along your lip. “You owe me you son of a bitch,” your voice comes out lower than you expect. Due to the smug smile he has on his face, he knows what he’s doing to you. Suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold. <<elseif $pi>>\ “Is this how you treat all your friends?” you ask angrily. He laughs, “only the ones I like.” You lift a finger, “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to be arrested. Not because I agree with what you’re doing nor do I want another person dying tonight.” He raises his hands, “understood.” <<else>>\ “Do you understand that you’d not only be betraying me but Nia too? Your best friend? Don’t you feel anything?” you ask incredulously. “Nia can protect herself and even if that wasn’t the case I would,” he responds in a bored tone. “You’re a sadistic human being,” you say coldly. He grins, “it’s a matter of perspective.” <</if>>\ “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] </h3>

<h3>You laugh bitterly, “you’re a bastard. A real piece of shit.” He laughs, “I guess you would call me that. It takes one to know one.” You can’t help but admire his tactic, even though it’s against you. You would likely do the same thing. <<if $fi>>\ You can’t help but smile. You touch your fingers lightly to his and it makes your nerves ignite. He takes it further and entangles your hands together in a snare. “If he does turn out to be hiding something, will you protect me?” you ask in a tone you’ve never used before. Flirty. Imre brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, in spite of how dirty you are. “I think one of your lovely smiles could get him to renounce all evil-doing.” You snort and kiss his hand too. You’re still pissed at what he did but you’ll get him back very soon. “There’s something different about you,” he states. You shrug and pull away, “death is transformative.” “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $ai>>\ You smirk and lightly punch him. He grabs your hand and pulls you close. You feel Nia’s eyes on you and that makes you feel even more daring. You touch his Adam's apple slowly. “I still haven’t forgotten that you fucked up me over,” you say as you press down on it. You feel the muscles underneath his skin move. “I’m aware,” he replies and brings your finger to his lips. His tongue gently kisses it. “If you’re right about Arthur, the future ass-beating he’ll get might save you from me killing you,” you whisper and place a kiss on his chin. “There’s something different about you,” he states. You shrug and pull away, “death is transformative.” “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $pi>>\ “You’re evil.” He shakes his head as if that’s the funniest thing you’ve said all night. “You don’t have to pretend you’re morally opposed to this idea.” “I don’t care about Arthur. I would’ve done the same thing. I don’t like being threatened,” you say angrily. “I’ll get you back for this one.” Instead of being offended he grins as if he’s honored you’re willing to play dirty. “There’s something different about you,” he states. You shrug and pull away, “death is transformative.” “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $ti>>\ You nod. “Sure.” Imre looks at you for a moment. “What?” “You don’t feel anger about this?” he asks. You shrug, “as long as I can sleep soon I don’t really care. You deal with Arthur.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ Imre smiles and gently takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “You’re a very strange girl.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ Imre smiles and gently takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “You’re a very strange boy.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ Imre smiles and gently takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “You’re a very strange person.” <</if>>\ “So I’ve been told,” you respond with a smile. “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $ri>>\ You roll your eyes and lightly punch him on the arm. “You don’t have to do the whole shebang to get me to agree. Just fucking ask.” Imre liftly touches your cheek, caressing you over the grime plastered to your skin. “It’s a bit of a failsafe,” he explains. “Yeah and it’s a dick move,” you reply. Truth be told you don’t feel that bad about it. It’s really nothing to let Imre do whatever with Arthur. He won’t hurt him Maybe. You press your hand against his. “My apologies,” he says in a voice that sounds smug. “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $yi>>\ “Will this get me to a bed faster?” you yawn. Imre momentarily looks displeased at the fact that you didn’t cover your mouth but he has no leg to stand on cleanliness and etiquette at this moment. “Well, of course. He has a car and the alternative would be to walk which is why I’m confused as to why you initally declined.” You snort, “don’t ask me. I don’t know why I do things either. Sometimes I feel someone else is controlling my actions.” Imre raises an eyebrow at that but says nothing further. “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<elseif $wi>>\ You blink a few times and then turn on your heel. You have no time to deal with his bullshit. If he wants to scheme then he can scheme but you hate having to listen to him ramble on about it. At least if you’re going along, you should be spared that. “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. “Don't you see me coming?” you yell back. You see Nia’s eyes still on you. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <<else>>\ “You fucking prick,” you snap. “Your hands are dirty too!” Imre shrugs, “even if that is true. I would never be remotely considered suspicious in the eyes of the law.” “Maybe not but if I’m going to jail I’ll make sure you find yourself lying next to James,” you promise. Imre smirks. “There’s something different about you,” he states. “Death is transformative.” “HURRY UP!” Lorcan yells. You both look and you see Nia’s narrowed eyes. Imre gestures for you to go first and you do. [[NEXT|Page 527]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You start walking to the car when Imre once again speaks. “We should be together for the next few hours.”<<audio "forest" stop>> “Why?” you ask. “To get our story straight for the cops,” Nia responds tiredly. “I don’t care where we go, I just need to sleep. I can’t show up like this to my house, my father would lose his mind.” “My house is likely still full of many people, we’ll be seen,” Imre explains. They look at you. Your house is more isolated and less populated but Sally is clearly already awake — that is if he ever went to sleep – if you show up like this he’ll never let you leave the house again. He’ll still be angry if you show up later but at least Arthur will be able to tell him you’re ok and you can bathe at someone’s house. Three pairs of eyes look at Lorcan. He rolls his eyes and sighs, “Chez Stark it is.” “I always wanted to experience low-income housing,” Imre says jovially. Lorcan shoulder-checks him as he passes. The three slide into the back and that leaves you the passenger seat. Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password6">> </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is '8880'>>[[Correct!|Page 511*]]\<<elseif $Password is not '8880'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password5">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<audio "morning" loop play>>\ <<if $plana>>\ The other three squeeze into the back while you slide into the front seat. Arthur waits while the rest of you buckle your seatbelts and then takes off. <<elseif $plana2>>\ The other three squeeze into the back while you slide into the front seat. Arthur waits while the rest of you buckle your seatbelts and then takes off. <<else>>\ Arthur waits while the rest of you buckle your seatbelts and then takes off. <</if>>\ The car ride is initially silent as none of you want to make Arthur privy to what has happened and all of you are too energy-zapped to want to talk about miscellaneous things anyway. Lorcan starts picking off the mud stuck in the zipper of his leather jacket while Imre slowly takes out clumps of mud from his curls. Nia blinks slowly as she looks out of the window, her eyes droopy and ready to nod off. “I don’t wanna be ready or anything but I need to ask, what have you kids been up to tonight?” Arthur asks with an awkward chuckle. “You look like you’ve been having mud fights.” You edge the rear view mirror in your direction and from the little you can see most of your face is completely covered in mud. Your $eyecolor look especially lifeless against the sheer derangement of your current appearance. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ “We were–” “It was–” You and Imre both sought to respond at the same time. You catch his eyes in the mirror and he tilts his head as if giving you permission to speak for the group. “It was a game we were playing outside, hide and seek like when we were kids,” you reply. Arthur smiles, “I thought you were all too old for that.” “You're never too old for games,” you say. Imre grins. <<else>>\ “We drank a bit too much and our alcohol-addled brains thought it was a good idea to traipse around the woods. We got caught in the rain and due to how dark it was we had some unfortunate slips,” Imre replies smoothly. Arthur looks surprised and glances at you, “I didn’t know you drank, Mr/Miss.” You shrug, “it was a one time event.” “We’ve learned our lesson,” Imre swears. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 529]] </h3>

<h3><<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ Now that you can breathe you itch for a cigarette. <<elseif $vice is 'drinking'>>\ Now that you can breathe you itch for a drink. <<elseif $vice is 'punch'>>\ Now that you can breathe you itch for pain. <<elseif $vice is 'drugs'>>\ Now that you can breathe you itch for a pill. <<elseif $vice is 'relax'>>\ Now that you can breathe you feel like slipping away into that state of unreality. <</if>>\ But instead you $habit, trying to contain your urges until you’re alone. “Damn fucking zipper!” Lorcan curses and starts taking off his jacket. He almost hits Imre in the face but he holds out his hand. “Calm down,” Imre instructs. “Shut up,” Lorcan says angrily. “I’m trying to clean this fucking—” he practically growls as he starts scraping at the mud with his nails. Nia’s eyes shift away from the window and she says sternly, “Lorcan. You can wait until you get home.” “No I can’t!” he snaps and aggressively starts tearing at his jacket. You, Imre and Nia exchange looks. “I can’t get this shitty thing out!” he whines. “Stop fucking mud. Stop fucking night. I should’ve stayed at home I didn’t even wanna fucking go!” [[NEXT|Page 530]] </h3>

<h3>Imre tries to soothe Lorcan, “if it’s about the jacket I can let you use my cleaner, it will look like new, but you need to calm down.” <<if $murderer>>\ “Fuck you! This is all your damn fault! You had the party and you let that asshole speak and then Crowny ki–” <<elseif $imrem>>\ “Fuck you! This is all your damn fault! You had the party and you let that asshole speak and then you ki–” <<elseif $niam>>\ “Fuck you! This is all your damn fault! You had the party and you let that asshole speak and then Nia ki–” <<elseif $lorcanm>>\ “Fuck you! This is all your damn fault! You had the party and you let that asshole speak and then I didn’t want to ki–” <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[You try to calm him|Page 531][$calml to true]] * [[You distract Arthur|Page 531]] </h3>

<h3><<if $calml>>\ “Lorcan!” you yell. He barely pays you any attention as he starts pulling on the door handle. “I can’t fucking breathe in this place. I need air,” he wheezes. “Lorcan,” you try to say soothingly, “we’re in a moving car. You’ll get hurt.” He continues pulling at it, meanwhile Imre and Nia begin chatting up Arthur about the summer fair of all things. You decide to… <hr>\ <<if $Lorcan>>\ * [[♥ Beg him|Page 532*][$begl to true]] * [[♡ Snap your fingers|Page 532*][$snapl to true]] <<else>>\ * [[⟡ Try to take his leather jacket|Page 532*][$jacketl to true]] * [[Punch his arm|Page 532*]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ “Arthur!” you scream into his face, cutting off what Lorcan was going to say. Arthur is startled and the car slightly jerks. “Yes?” “I’m impressed by your dedication,” you hasten to say. “You’ve been with our family for many years and now in our toughest time you won’t go.” Arthur smiles, “thank you $prefix. Your family has braved through worse. You’ll see, in no time things will be in tip-top shape.” “But don’t you have other things you’d like to be doing or are you planning to work for us forever?” you ask. Lorcan tries for the door handle and Imre pulls him back. Nia uses that opportunity to take his leather jacket which makes Lorcan try to snatch it from her. Imre pushes him away and says something in a low voice. Too low for even your ears. “… gas.” “Uh huh,” you say, pretending to have heard. Lorcan starts thumping on the window. “GET ME OUT OF THIS DAMN CAR!” Arthur looks at the rear view mirror and his eyebrows raise when he sees Lorcan’s behaviour. [[NEXT|Page 532]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $begl>>\ “Lorcan… please,” you beseech. When you try to reach for him he recoils. You feel a horrible cold feeling in your chest but push it down. He keeps trying for the door. “If you don’t calm down you could say something that could get us in trouble. We could go to jail.” He’s not listening, he’s desperate and you wish you could shoulder his pain. But you’re the last person he wants to comfort him. “I could go to jail,” you say slowly. Lorcan stops trying for the door. “You’re not going to jail, Crowny. Not ever.” You look at him with surprise. He looks taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. He’s never spoken to you like that. Still, he looks down when he speaks, “I don’t… want you to get in trouble.” Before you can react Athur looks at the rear view mirror and his eyebrows raise. Lorcan’s made a crack in the window. “BUT I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE I CAN’T STAY HERE!” Lorcan screams. <<elseif $snapl>>\ You snap your fingers, once, twice and thrice in front of his face. “Lorcan stop being a whiny bitch! Do you want us to get in trouble?” you whisper furiously. He keeps trying for the door. “We’re so close now and you’re going to ruin it by freaking the fuck out. You hate me and want me to rot in prison? Fine. But do you wanna leave your grandma all alone?” He stops his acts of desperation and glares at you. That’s the Lorcan you know. You could almost smile from seeing him return to normal. “I don’t want you to rot in prison, dumbass,” he responds. Your eyebrows shoot up. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You thought it was his grandma that made him stop. His eyes widen at the realization of what he just said and he starts picking at his nails. “I’m the one that has to make your life miserable, not the prison guards.” You snort. “They would be more merciful though.” He gives you a steely look, “you’re not going to prison. Ok? I’m not gonna say shit against you.” Before you can react Athur looks at the rear view mirror and his eyebrows raise. Lorcan’s made a crack in the window. “BUT I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE I CAN’T STAY HERE!” Lorcan screams. <<elseif $jacketl>>\ “Lorcan, I know what you’re feeling. I know it all sucks right now and all you want to do is scream but this isn’t the time or place,” you assure him. “Shut up!” he screams at you. You take the opportunity to snatch his jacket from him. He stops trying to get out and lunges for it. You start tugging and you feel a rip. Lorcan stares down at his jacket in alarm. “You want to tear it apart? Cause that is what will happen if you keep tugging it. Let go, take a breath and I’ll give you your jacket back, ok?” you promise. You see tears spring up in Lorcan’s eyes and you stop tugging. “Lorcan,” you say in a soft voice, “it’s ok. I promise everything will be ok. Do you believe me?” Lorcan sniffs and it takes a moment before he nods, once. Before you can react Athur looks at the rear view mirror and his eyebrows raise. Lorcan’s made a crack in the window. “But I can’t breathe, Crowny. I can’t fucking breathe and I need to get out of this car,” he says pleadingly and rips the leather jacket out of your hands. <<else>>\ You don’t know what else to do with Lorcan. The only way he handles things is with violence so you do just that. You punch him as hard as you can in the arm, hoping your years of fist-fights have paid off somehow. Lorcan yelps and stops trying to escape. He grips his arm, looks down at it and then at you as if he can’t believe it. “What the fuck?!” he asks. You shrug. “If you stop acting like a psycho who’s going to get us all into shit then I won’t hit you again.” Lorcan stares you down for just a moment before trying for the door again. So you punch him, again. Lorcan tries to swing at you but the headrest gets in his way. Before you can react Athur looks at the rear view mirror and his eyebrows raise. Lorcan’s made a crack in the window. “GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING CAR!” Lorcan screams. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 532]] </h3>

<h3>“Kids! Calm down!” Arthur yells without much strength behind his words. “We’re calm,” Nia responds, “Lorcan just took something.” “I didn’t take shit!” Lorcan denies. Lorcan tries to open the door again and Arthur says sternly, “Mr. Stark, please don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about the boy.” Lorcan stops struggling and Imre’s eyes snap to Arthur. Nia’s face grows stony as she stares at the back of the driver’s head. That convinces you that they heard it too. It seems as if the cold from outside has seeped into the car even though the air-conditioning is at full blast. “What did you say?” you ask, your voice timid. Arthur clears his throat, he nervously glances at you and then back at the road. “I’m sorry I called you a boy, Mr. Stark. I forget you kids are all grown up from the little tikes I’ve seen age all these years. Time flies, doesn’t it?” Your eyes slowly look back to the eyes of the others. Lorcan’s eyes are filled with fear. He gulps multiple times but even though his mouth is open, no words come out. Imre’s face looks nearly lifelessly as he slowly looks at you. His expressionless eyes seem to be communicating something. Nia catches his look and then mouths, //‘he knows.’// [[NEXT|Page 533]] </h3>

<h3>//Heknowsheknowsheknowsheknowsheknows// Fuck. But would he say anything? He works for your family… how far does his loyalty stretch? You know he’s loyal to your brother but about you? Can you take that chance? You think about your suspicions of him. If he is trustworthy why would he be following you so much? A secret in the hands of four people is heavy, in the hands of five not even Atlas could shoulder it. Imre smiles gently, “it really does fly, Mr. Arthur. The difference between childhood and adulthood is staggering, is it not? I find a person can radically change for the worse with the years.” “I’m about more optimistic Mr. Dur–” <hr>\ * [[🜒 You punch him in the face|Page 534][$puncha to true]] * [[🜥 Imre attacks him|Page 534*]] </h3>

<h3>You act on pure instinct when you raise your fist and slam it into his face. The pain reverberates throughout your hand and you grunt as Arthur’s head slams against the window. <<audio "morning" stop>><<set $Corrupt += 1>> <<if $vice is 'punch'>>\ You can’t even enjoy the sweet pain as the car starts veering off the road. <<elseif $tribute>>\ The finger that Imre broke snaps again and you bite your tongue from screaming. The car starts veering off the road. <<else>>\ You barely pay attention to the pain as the car starts veering off the road. <</if>>\ <<if $tname>>\ Imre lurches forward and takes the wheel, moving the car back to the road. “$tname, move his feet and with your hand press down on the brake.” <<else>>\ Imre lurches forward and takes the wheel, moving the car back to the road. “$name, move his feet and with your hand press down on the brake.” <</if>>\ <<if $drive>>\ Thanks to your driving lessons you know which it is and bend down. You quickly move his foot aside and slam down on the brake. The car lurches and you hit your head off the steering wheel. Groaning, you put your hand on the gear stick and move it to PARK. <<else>>\ “Which one is that?!” you ask. “It’s on the left!” Imre says. You bend down, move his heavy foot aside and hit down on what you hope is the brake. The car lurches and you hit your head off the steering wheel. Groaning, you almost get up when the car starts moving again. “Don’t take your hand off the brake yet. Leave it there and move the gear stick to park,” Imre orders. “And where is that?” you ask, with a sigh. <<set $driveblocked>> “Just move the gear stick forward until you can’t anymore,” he says. You blindly search for it. When your hand lands on the knob you just thrust it forward and let go of the brake. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 535]] </h3>

<h3>It happens all so quickly. Imre grabs a fistful of Arthur’s hair and then slams his face forward. You hear a crunch as his nose makes contact with the dash. Meanwhile, you grab the wheel. <<audio "morning" stop>><<set $Ethical += 1>> <<if $drive>>\ You remember what you learned in your driving lessons. You steer the car back onto the road and then sit up to move your leg into the foot space of the driver’s side. It’s crampy because Arthur’s legs are there but you kick them aside and press down on the brake pedal. The car lurches to stop and you hear someone curse from the back seat. You then move the gear stick to PARK. You let out a breath and collapse in the seat. <<else>>\ But you don’t know anything about this. Damn your brothers for never wanting to teach you. You try to steer the car back onto the road but you jerk too far and it ends up veering to the other side of the road. “The brake!” Imre yells. You don’t know where that is and before you can even think of looking for it. The front of the car hits a tree. You hold onto the steering wheel to prevent your body from being pushed forward. Someone smacks into you and your shoulder sockets nearly dislocate. <<set $crash to true>> You let out a sigh when you see the cracks on the front windshield. “Fuck,” you mumble and collapse back into your seat. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 535]] </h3>

<h3>You lean back and take a big gulp of air. You hear someone roll down the window and vomit. Your bet is that it was Lorcan. Nia steps out of the car and opens the driver’s door. She lifts Arthur and moves him gently back against the seat. His nose is in an unnatural position and streams of blood spill from his nostrils. <<audio "morning" loop play>> “Is he dead?” Lorcan asks. “Cause I can’t do two bodies in a night.” Nia opens his eyelids, the increasingly brightened light of the sky making it easier for her to see his eyes. “He’s fine. Apart from the nose there is likely no major brain damage. But it also isn’t good to pass out from blunt force trauma. He’ll wake up, I just don’t know in what state.” “What do we do now?” Lorcan asks. “Our plan hasn’t changed. We’re still going to Lorcan’s home,” Imre decides. He looks at Lorcan, a blazing expression in his eyes which makes the other boy look down. Uncharacteristic of him. <<if $puncha>>\ “Do you see what happens when you let your emotions get the best of you? We’ve had enough troubles today. If something further occurs to Arthur because of his injury, remember who caused this,” Imre says plainly. <<else>>\ “Do you see what happens when you let your emotions get the best of you? We’ve had enough troubles today. If something further occurs to Arthur because of his injury, remember who caused me to do it,” Imre says plainly. <</if>> Lorcan shrinks under his stare. [[NEXT|Page 536]] </h3>

<h3><<if $crash>>\ “And the car?” you ask. Imre looks at the smashed bumper and the spiderweb cracks on the window. “There’s little we can do about that now.” “And Arthur?” you ask. Imre shrugs, sliding out from the back. Nia moves out of the way as Imre starts dragging Arthur out of his seat, “we’ll take him with us.” After throwing Arthur in the trunk of the car, Imre drives the rest of the way. For a moment you believe the second Imre backs up, that the tree will land on the car. But it remains resolute in its position. <<elseif $driveblocked>>\ “And Arthur?” you ask. Imre shrugs, sliding out from the back. Nia moves out of the way as Imre starts dragging Arthur out of his seat, “we’ll take him with us.” After throwing Arthur in the trunk of the car, Imre drives the rest of the way. <<else>>\ “And Arthur?” you ask. Imre shrugs, sliding out from the back. Nia moves out of the way as Imre starts dragging Arthur out of his seat, “we’ll take him with us.” After throwing Arthur in the trunk of the car, you drive the rest of the way. <</if>>\ Under the constant cover of clouds, Croun hardly ever has a true sunrise. Today, the sun is blazing like a warning on the horizon, bathing the sky in the blood you’ve shed in the night. <<if $crash>>\ Imre turns the car into Camelot in the Meadows. <<elseif $driveblocked>>\ Imre turns the car into Camelot in the Meadows. <<else>>\ You turn the car into Camelot in the Meadows. <</if>>\ <<if $lorcanquest>>\ You have to say, you don’t relish coming back here. Just now you remembered the name the townies gave to this place… //Came-A lot-In-Your-Meadows//. Not without reason, people here tend to have 5-6 children. <<else>>\ Nearly all townies who sustain themselves yearly on lower income live here. People who don’t live here usually come here to buy drugs, party, spray paint ‘white trash’ on the trailers or to get laid by Mimi, the prostitute with gold teeth who’s been at it for 20 years. Another, less favourable name for the park is //Came-A lot-In-Your-Meadows//. Not without reason, people here tend to have 5-6 children. The park itself is haphazardly arranged as the roads aren’t paved and the trailers stand amid dead grass. Broken bottles lie on the ground along with cigarette buts and bicycles with rust on their chains. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 537]] </h3>

<h3><<if $crash and not $lorcanquest>>\ Imre drives forward and seems to be heading towards the big house at the end of the road. That must be where Lorcan lives. <<elseif $crash and $lorcanquest>>\ You see Lorcan’s house at the end of the road. You haven’t ever been inside but you remember from being here last time with him. Your eyes flick to his and his focus is glued to the window. He looks sick. <<elseif $lorcanquest and $driveblocked>>\ You see Lorcan’s house at the end of the road. You haven’t ever been inside but you remember from being here last time with him. Your eyes flick to his and his focus is glued to the window. He looks sick. <<elseif not $lorcanquest and not $driveblocked>>\ Imre drives forward and seems to be heading towards the big house at the end of the road. That must be where Lorcan lives. <<elseif not $crash and not $lorcanquest>>\ “Where’s your house?” you ask Lorcan. Lorcan doesn’t respond and in the rearview mirror you see his eyes are glued to the window. He looks sick. “Keep going forward. It’s the house at the end of the road,” Imre replies. <</if>> <<if $crash>>\ The rocks on the dirt road clang against the car, creating sounds of small little pangs. The car vibrates and Imre has to swerve past big puddles of water. He parks the car on the patch of long grass next to the house Imre —who immediately took the passenger’s seat after Arthur was placed in the back— unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car. He looks around for a moment and points to a tarp he makes Lorcan throw on the car. <<elseif $driveblocked>>\ The rocks on the dirt road clang against the car, creating sounds of small little pangs. The car vibrates and Imre has to swerve past big puddles of water. He parks the car on the patch of long grass next to the house Imre —who immediately took the passenger’s seat after Arthur was placed in the back— unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car. He looks around for a moment and points to a tarp he makes Lorcan throw on the car. <<elseif $drive>>\ The rocks on the dirt road clang against the car, creating sounds of small little pangs. The car vibrates and you have to swerve past big puddles of water. You don’t yet feel confident in parking so you just stop in front of the house and turn off the engine. Imre immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car. The rest of you follow. <<else>>\ The rocks on the dirt road clang against the car, creating sounds of small little pangs. The car vibrates and Imre has to swerve past big puddles of water. He parks the car on the patch of long grass next to the house Imre —who immediately took the passenger’s seat after Arthur was placed in the back— unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car. He looks around for a moment and points to a tarp he makes Lorcan throw on the car. <</if>>\ “We need to do this quickly and effectively,” he instructs. “Unfortunately we cannot count with the cover of darkness as we did with James.” Nia looks around, “no one seems to be awake right now, Em.” Em? “That matters little. It’s best not to risk busybodies,” he asserts and opens the trunk. [[NEXT|Page 538]] </h3>

<h3><<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ “Witnesses are usually what can make a case,” you say. “All we would need is one person to see us covered in mud, carrying a body into Lorcan’s house to be fucked.” Imre quickly smirks at you. “That’s right.” “I’ll take your word for it,” Nia replies drily. <<else>>\ You have no idea what to do, so you can’t say if what Imre’s doing is overkill or the correct choice. It was his idea to bury James in the woods which in turn gave Arthur the opportunity to see you. But then again, you have no idea what to do. <</if>>\ You... <hr>\ * [[🜒 Help carry the body|Page 539][$carrya to true]] * [[🜥 Stand watch|Page 539][$standa to true]] * [[🜥 Feel sick|Page 539]] </h3>

<h3><<audio "morning" stop>>\ <<if $carrya>>\ You take one of the sides while Nia takes the side opposite you. What the hell did this man eat? <<if $puncha>>\ Your newly broken finger isn't doing you any favours. You all waddle up the front steps and it’s a nightmare trying to get yourselves into such a small door with a body. <<else>>\ You all waddle up the front steps and it’s a nightmare trying to get yourselves into such a small door with a body. <</if>>\ You feel annoyed more than anything. You should be resting right now, but what are you doing? Taking care of a grown ass adult who should’ve kept his mouth shut. He could end up dead now and it’ll be all his fault. Nia catches your eye and mouths, ‘are you ok?’ It’s cute, she thinks this bothers you. <hr>\ <<if $Nia>>\ * [[♥ You respond kindly|Page 540][$kindlyn to true]] * [[♡ You wink|Page 540][$winkn to true]] <<else>>\ * [[⟡ You smile|Page 540][$smilen to true]] * [[You shrug|Page 540]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $standa>>\ You stand in front of the others. You aren’t that physically intimidating but it’s something to help. You eye the windows of the trailers for any movement and in between each of them for anyone that could be hanging around there. You feel bad that you got the easy job but you can’t stomach the idea to carry him in. Arthur is a man you’ve known all your life. This is the way you’re treating him? You know it wasn’t on purpose. No one thought this would happen but you still feel awful. “Birdie, are you ok?” Nia asks. You look to see her holding Arthur from his side. <hr>\ <<if $Nia>>\ * [[♥ You respond kindly|Page 540][$kindlyn to true]] * [[♡ You wink|Page 540][$winkn to true]] <<else>>\ * [[⟡ You smile|Page 540][$smilen to true]] * [[You shrug|Page 540]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ “I’m sorry,” you apologize and look away. You feel the contents of your stomach threaten to rise up your throat. “Birdie? Are you ok?” Nia asks gently. <hr>\ <<if $Nia>>\ * [[♥ You respond kindly|Page 540][$kindlyn to true]] * [[♡ You wink|Page 540][$winkn to true]] <<else>>\ * [[⟡ You joke|Page 540][$joken to true]] * [[You shrug|Page 540]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $kindlyn>>\ You shake your head and hold out a hand, “just let me breathe for a sec. I’ll be fine.” “Ok,” she says but she doesn’t sound too convinced but she knows better than to bring this up now. <<elseif $winkn>>\ Your eyelids are full of mud but you manage to give her what you think is a good enough wink. Nia’s lips quiver and she just shakes her head. You laugh. <<elseif $smilen>>\ You give her a wide smile. She gives you a faint one in return. <<elseif $joken>>\ “Yeah this is just healthy gagging,” you sarcasm. Instead of getting exasperated with you she lays a hand on your shoulder. “It’s fine to feel this way. Normal even.” You look at her for a moment before she goes back to helping. <<else>>\ She looks at you before looking away. Suits you just fine. <</if>>\ <<if $carrya>>\ “Where the hell are we putting him?” you ask. <<elseif $standa>>\ “Where the heck are you putting him?” you ask. <<else>>\ “Where the heck are you putting him?” you ask. <</if>>\ “In the basement,” Imre says. “How do you know I have a basement?” Lorcan asks, breaking out of his stupor. “I saw–” Imre grunts as Arthur starts slipping from his grasp. He hoists him up again and with a slightly strained voice replies, “a window near the front steps.” You all quietly move along the house, the floorboards creak under four sets of feet. Lorcan —holding onto Arthur’s feet— guides the rest of you to the door of the basement. He takes a moment to open it which nearly makes Arthur fall. Going down the stairs is an even messier business. The steps are much louder here, with each move lifting up dust from years of disuse. Imre nearly bumps his head against the ceiling and Nia nearly slips, her shoes too high to be stable foundations for such old steps. Lorcan bumps Arthur into the wall a few times and you wince, expecting his grandma to wake up. The air here is stuffy so itchy sweat begins accumulating on your forehead. When you finally arrive at the bottom of the stairs, Nia says, “let’s leave him on the chair.” [[NEXT|Page 541]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical > 0 and $Corrupt > 0>>\ You look around and see a few cable ties on top of a box. You don’t hesitate to grab them. You pull his hands back and bind his wrists together. It’s really just pratical. If someone is a danger to yourself, you have to bind them. You don’t feel much about it. No thrill, no guilt. Imre takes another set of cable ties and binds his ankles together. Nia stands there with her arms crossed, her face impassive but a slight twitch to her jaw meanwhile Lorcan looks green. What’s the big deal? <<elseif $Ethical > 4>>\ When Imre grabs cable ties you feel nauseated. You’re tying up a man in a basement like a bunch of criminals. Regardless of doing this for your own safety, it feels wrong. Nia stands there with her arms crossed, her face impassive but a slight twitch to her jaw. “Bind his ankles,” Imre orders Lorcan. Lorcan looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do but he still does it. Nia stands there with her arms crossed, her face impassive but a slight twitch to her jaw. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You look around and see a few cable ties on top of a box. You don’t hesitate to grab them. You pull his hands back and bind his wrists together. Imre takes another set of cable ties and binds his ankles together. Nia stands there with her arms crossed, her face impassive but a slight twitch to her jaw. <<elseif $Ethical < 5>>\ You don’t move. You feel like you’ll be so nervous you won’t tie him well enough. However, there is some guilt there. Not enough though and that makes you uncomfortable. <<elseif $Corrupt < 5>>\ You don’t move. You want to help but you don’t have the stomach for it even though it’s hard for you to feel too much pity for Arthur. <</if>>\ Lorcan lifts Arthur’s head up and it flops back down. Yawning, Nia says, “are we just going to leave him here?” “We can’t let him go. We’ll decide what to do with clearer heads,” Imre says. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ “We’ve technically kidnapped him, Imre. We either let him go or…,” you trail off. “Fuck! We’re going to jail,” Lorcan says nervously. “Not necessarily,” you reply. <<if $tname>>\ Imre nods, “$tname is right. It’s still possible we’ll be fine.” <<else>>\ Imre nods, “$name is right. It’s still possible we’ll be fine.” <</if>>\ <<else>>\ “Fuck! We’re going to jail,” Lorcan says nervously. <</if>>\ Do you tell them you’ve had suspicions he’s been following you? <hr>\ * [[Yes|Page 542][$stalkyart to true]] * [[No|Page 542]] </h3>

<h3><<if $stalkyart>>\ “So… interesting thing… I think Arthur might’ve been following us for a while,” you admit. “Of course,” Imre says. “Huh?!” Lorcan says. “You knew?” you ask Imre. Imre shrugs a shoulder, “I had my suspicions.” “And both of you decide to say something now instead of before?” Nia asks. “I wasn’t sure, Nia,” you reply. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask Imre. “For the same reason you didn’t,” Imre replies indifferently. “We need to know why he’s been following us.” <<else>>\ It doesn’t matter now. They would likely get pissed off you didn’t say anything before. You weren’t even sure he was following you anyway until today. <</if>>\ “Lorcan? What are you doing down in the basement?” a woman’s voice says from upstairs. “Shit,” Lorcan whispers and runs up the stairs. Nia follows first. Imre looks Arthur up and down, paying particular attention to the ties, looks at you once and walks up the steps too. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You sigh. You look back for a moment and follow the rest. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You look back for a moment and smile before following the rest. <<elseif $Ethical == $Corrupt>>\ Sighing, you don’t look back. <<elseif $Ethical > 0 and $Corrupt > 0>>\ <<if $Ethical > $Corrupt>>\ You sigh. You look back for a moment and follow the rest. <<elseif $Corrupt > $Ethical>>\ You look back for a moment and smile before following the rest. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password7">> </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is '1427'>>[[Correct!|Page 528]]\<<elseif $Password is not '1427'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password6">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is '5329'>>[[Correct!|Page 543]]\<<elseif $Password is not '5329'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password7">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“... never bring them over.” “Special occasion, gran.” “Oh! I’m not mad, I think—” the woman’s eyes flick to you as you step onto the first floor, “—it’s great that you finally brought friends over, hun.” Lorcan rolls his eyes as his grandma shakes Nia’s hand. “What a pretty girl, is she your girlfriend?” “Gran…” “What a handsome boy,” she pinches Imre’s cheeks. Instead of reacting negatively, he seems to be amused at her antics. “Stop…” She finally gets to you and cups your face. “Such a unique face! Like that painting of Venus. Strange beauty!” “Botticellian looks,” Imre comments. She snaps her fingers, “exactly! So unique and timeless. Not like the basic kind. No offence dear,” she says to Nia. Nia blinks confusedly. “None taken.” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “Are you his girlfriend?” she asks. <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “Are you his boyfriend?” she asks. <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ “Are you his partner?” she asks. She knows you’re trans? <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 544]] </h3>

<h3>“GRAN!” Grandma Starks shushes him and moves your face around to catch you from all angles. Up close, you look at her too. She has wild ginger hair, a hair type that looks like curls but without a maintained form due to sleep. Her green eyes are amplified by her rounded red glasses and she wears dangly banana earrings. She smells oddly tropical; there’s some Lorcan within her or rather there’s some of his grandma within him. It’s the lips you think. The series of thick bangles on her wrists clang as she examines you thoroughly. <<if$Lorcan>>\ “You look like his ex-girlfriend. Are you that Crowny he’s always talking about?” she asks. <<else>>\ “You look like his ex-girlfriend. Are you that Crowny he’s always complaining about?” she asks. <</if>>\ “OH MY GOD,” Lorcan pulls out a chair, crosses his arms on top of the dining table and buries his face. <hr>\ * [[Spare Lorcan|Page 545][$spare to true]] * [[Embarrass him|Page 545][$shame to true]] * [[Tell her to mind her own business|Page 545][$noshame to true]] * [[Say nothing|Page 545]] </h3>

<h3><<if $spare>>\ “Yeah I am but I’m a bit shy so….,” you trail off. If you could only rub the back of your neck to sell the awkwardness but she still has your face in her hands. “There’s no need to be shy with me, hun!” Grandma Stark says. “That’s not how it works, Gran,” Lorcan groans, his voice muffled by his arms. She sighs, “how did you get friends if you’re still so grouchy?” “We’re all grouchy, Mrs. Stark,” you respond. She nods, giving you a once over. “Can’t imagine why,” she snarks. She finally lets go of you and moves back to get a good eye on each of the very dirty teens in her house. Her eyes comically widen as she takes note of your ruined costumes, clumped heads of hair and tired eyes. <<elseif $shame>>\ “He talks about me?” you ask, your mouth curving into a smile. “//All// the time!” she claims. “Your name is said here more than anyone’s and it’s preposterous that I've never met you until now!” “Stoppppppp,” Lorcan groans. “And what does he say about me?” you ask, a shit-eating grin on your face. She opens her mouth, “that you’re the–” Lorcan slams his fist on the table, dropping a salt shaker. He points at his Grandma, “don’t you dare, Gran.” “Why so dramatic? Aren’t you friends now?” she asks. “Yeah Lorcan, why so dramatic. We’re friends now,” you say with a smirk. Oh, if looks could kill… “Alrighty, alrighty,” she relents, “I’ll let it go for now.” She finally lets go of you and moves back to get a good eye on each of the very dirty teens in her house. Her eyes comically widen as she takes note of your ruined costumes, clumped heads of hair and tired eyes. <<elseif $noshame>>\ “Could you mind your own damn business, Mrs. Stark?” you ask, throwing her hands off of you. Lorcan lifts his head up. “Oh,” Mrs. Stark clears her throat and awkwardly rubs her hands on her apron. “I didn’t mean to pry, hun.” You cock your head, “well intention and actions don’t always align. I do hate busybodies. They’re rather rude and sad.” Nia looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. Lorcan looks as if he wants to kick you, his hand balls into a fist. Mrs. Stark looks around or something to change the subject to. She finds it on the tracks of dirt you’ve let into the house. She moves back to get a good eye on each of the very dirty teens in her house. Her eyes comically widen as she takes note of your ruined costumes, clumped heads of hair and tired eyes. <<else>>\ You let her play around with your face as if it were puddy. No one has touched you like this before and it's strange but not horrible. “Not a big talker, are you?” she asks. “No Crowny isn’t. Now could you stop?” Lorcan groans, propping his face on his hand. “Oh, Lorcan. You don’t have to be such a sourpuss. All I want is to make your new friends feel welcome,” she assures. “You could do it without being weird,” Lorcan states. “Or embarrassing.” “I am not–” she cuts herself off and huffs. “Fine.” She finally lets go of you and moves back to get a good eye on each of the very dirty teens in her house. Her eyes comically widen as she takes note of your ruined costumes, clumped heads of hair and tired eyes. <</if>>\ “Well! Was the party in a mud pit?” she asks, laughing at her own joke. “Gran, we need to use the shower,” Lorcan changes the subject amid a yawn. “And if it’s not so much to ask, a change of clothes would do us all well,” Imre says. “I like the way this one talks, it's so proper,” Grandma Stark points at Imre. “Do you have a nail clipper, too?” Nia asks, and frowns on her as she examines her mud-caked nails. “Yes, yes, yes I have everything. Do you have a request?” she cocks her eyebrow at you. <hr>\ <<nobr>> <<if $puncha>> * [[A glass of water|Page 546][$water to true]] * [[Bandages|Page 546][$band to true]] * [[Toothbrush|Page 546][$tooth to true]] * [[Tylenol|Page 546][$tylenol to true]] <<else>> * [[A glass of water|Page 546][$water to true]] * [[Toothbrush|Page 546][$tooth to true]] * [[Tylenol|Page 546][$tylenol to true]] <</if>> <</nobr>> </h3>

<h3><<if $water>>\ “Could I have a glass of water?” you ask. “I’m parched.” You feel as if your throat has been rubbed with sandpaper. How odd, it’s not like you screamed. <<elseif $band>>\ “Do you have any gauze?’ you ask. Your finger throbs painfully. You have no idea if it’s merely injured or broken. You have to take better care of it. That would require a more stable life. <<elseif $tooth>>\ “Do you have an extra toothbrush?” you ask. “You feel the moist mud along your gums. “I would also like one,” Imre says. “Me too,” Nia adds. <<elseif $tylenol>>\ “Do you have any Tylenol?” you ask. “My head is close to splitting,” you rub it. Hopefully it isn’t the beginning of a migraine because you don’t have any medicine that could help. <</if>>\ “Comin’ right up!” she says cheerfully and contently sets about arranging things for you all. She hums in the other room as she presumably looks for suitable clothes. “Does your grandma go down to the basement a lot?” Nia asks Lorcan. He shakes his head, “nah. Stairs aren’t good for her knees. Anyway, what do we do if he wakes up while we’re asleep?” <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You and Imre exchange glances. “He’ll need to be gagged.” “If his ‘stay’ goes on for longer than expected we’ll need other methods to keep him sedated,” Imre says, looking pointedly at Nia. “Nia, what can you steal from the hospital?” you ask, your voice is becoming a wheezy mess. She rubs her forehead. “I’ll see.” <<else>>\ “We’ll cover his mouth with an adhesive,” Imre says. “If this situation goes longer than expected he’ll need to be sedated. Nia, could you handle that?” Nia rubs her forehead. “I’ll see.” <</if>>\ “When we awake, we’ll need to do something about the car,” Imre whispers just as Grandma Stark comes back with a bundle of towels, clothes and toiletries in her arms. Imre goes to help and thanks her for her hospitality. She waves him off, “it’s not everyday my Lorcan brings friends here for a sleepover.” Lorcan huffs but doesn’t make any further remarks. [[NEXT|Page 547]] </h3>

<h3>You sort through the clothes. There are thick faded flannels, cargo pants, workman pants, checkered PJs, nightgowns and oddly enough— bunny slippers. One of the beady eyes is missing though. You wager some of these clothes belonged to Grandpa Stark. <<if $Lorcan>>\ You hold up each article of clothing and tsk as it’s not to your liking. It’s either the material, the smell of mothballs or the color that somehow bothers you. Sure, beggars shouldn’t be choosers but you’ve had a less-than-great night. You feel Lorcan’s eyes on you but only for a moment before he leaves. As you’re debating wearing a long shirt that says I WAS AT WOODSTOCK with a pair of boobs acting as the double Os a shirt gets thrust in front of you. You take it. It’s a band shirt of one of the many long-haired grunge bands of Seattle. Lorcan doesn’t look at you and clearly doesn’t want you to say anything because he immediately walks away from you to sit on the couch. You roll your lips, although there’s a giddiness in your stomach. You quickly bring it up to your nose, it smells like him. <<else>>\ You hold up each article of clothing and tsk as it’s not to your liking. It’s either the material, the smell of mothballs or the color that somehow bothers you. Sure, beggars shouldn’t be choosers but you’ve had a less-than-great night. You end up having to pick a long shirt that says I WAS AT WOODSTOCK with a pair of boobs acting as the double Os. Nia’s eyes slightly expand as she sees your shirt and she presses her lips. Imre raises an eyebrow, when his eyes meet yours there’s a glint of bemusement. You bring it to your nose and it smells old. You think you even see a stain of unknown origin near the armpit. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 548]] </h3>

<h3>Grandma Stark decides it’s best if you all go oldest to youngest which means Nia goes first, then Lorcan, Imre and finally you. At first you think it’s merely just a way to organize who gets to shower first but when Imre leaves and Nia and Lorcan are arranging their bedding she comes over to sit with you on the couch. She has a conspiratorial smile on her face as she scoots closer. <hr>\ * [[You scoot away you don’t like being touched by strangers|Page 549][$notouch to true]] * [[You’re fine with her proximity|Page 549][$touch to true]] * [[It’s odd but you want her to like you|Page 549][$likegran to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $notouch>>\ You’re subtle about it. She raises a bemused eyebrow when she sees you scurry to the edge of the couch. “I ain’t contagious, hun,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s nothing personal,” you reply, your voice cracking. She gives you an odd look but lets it go. “Alrighty then.” <<elseif $touch>>\ You let her knee knock against yours and the brush of her fuzzy sweater against your arm feels pleasant. <<elseif $likegran>>\ You don’t usually let yourself be touched by people you don’t know well but you really want her to like you. <<if $Lorcan>>\ She’s Lorcan’s grandma, you want to make a good impression. <<else>>\ She’s offering you a place to stay. Why not make a good impression? <</if>>\ <</if>>\ She looks into your eyes so blatantly that you feel uncomfortable at such open attention. You clear your throat, “is there something…” You cough, your throat feeling as if sand was poured down it. “I’m sorry dear, but I have to ask. Did you go multiple rounds in a fight?” You put your hand around your neck, “just some drunk idiot.” She nods in understanding, “I know about that. But you look worse for wear. Especially that neck and I don’t think your voice usually sounds as if you’ve smoked three packs a day since you came out of the womb.” You clear your thoat again. It hurts to speak. “I’ve been in fights before. I’ll heal.” She still concerned but she clearly sees you don’t want to talk about this so changes topic. To something you also have little desire to talk about with her. “Have you and my grandson buried the hatchet, finally?” she asks. <<if $Lorcan>>\ You recall the disdain in his voice as he told you that he would never forgive you for what you did to his parents. It felt very final and with all that’s been going on you hadn’t had time to digest what that means for you and the odd tingly feelings you get when you’re with him. You grip his shirt in your hand. <<else>>\ You know why he hates you. He’s never made it subtle. What can you say to this old lady? You don’t know yourself what he feels. It felt insurmountable and with all that’s been going on you hadn’t had that on your list of priorities. <</if>>\ “I don’t know ma’am. You’ll have to ask him,” you reply mechanically. She sighs in disappointment. “I did think he would move on with enough time. Arnold was my son and I loved him but what he did was his own choice no one drove him to do it.” [[NEXT|Page 550]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Ethical > 4 and $Worth > 4>>\ It makes you smile a bit. It’s always gnawed at you. Logically it’s easy to think that a child has no bearing on what a grown adult does but… you can’t but think about what you said all those years ago and feel a thumb-sized pressure of guilt on your throat. His life as he knew it was destroyed because of something you said. At least, that’s how he sees it. You wish you could help him. “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond wistfully. <<elseif $Ethical > 4 and $Worthless > 4>>\ It makes you smile a bit. It’s always gnawed at you. Nia told you it wasn’t your fault but you don’t believe that… you can’t but think about what you said all those years ago and feel an iron-grip of guilt on your throat. His life as he knew it was destroyed because of something you said. He’s entirely right, too. You wish you could help him. But you can’t even help yourself. “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond wistfully. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4 and $Worth > 4>>\ You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Boo hoo. Terrible shit happens everywhere, Lorcan’s dad isn’t the first nor the last psycho who kills his slutty wife. She dug her own grave and so did he. It wasn’t your fault and fuck Lorcan for thinking so. If he wasn’t such a whiny pussy he would get over it already. <<if $Lorcan>>\ Although, he does look cute when he whines. <<else>>\ It's giving you a headache. <</if>>\ “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond in a mockingly sympathetic voice. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4 and $Worthless > 4>>\ You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Boo hoo. Terrible shit happens everywhere, Lorcan’s dad isn’t the first nor the last psycho who kills his slutty wife. She dug her own grave and so did he. Was it your fault? Yeah. Sure. Fine. But you’re not a bigger piece of shit than all the other pieces of shit around. If Lorcan wasn’t such a whiny pussy he would get over it already. <<if $Lorcan>>\ Although, he does look cute when he whines. <<else>>\ It's giving you a headache. <</if>>\ “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond in a mockingly sympathetic voice. <<elseif $Ethical == $Corrupt>>\ You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Boo hoo. Terrible shit happens everywhere, Lorcan’s dad isn’t the first nor the last psycho who kills his slutty wife. She dug her own grave and so did he. It wasn’t your fault and fuck Lorcan for thinking so. If he wasn’t such a whiny pussy he would get over it already. Ok, maybe that was harsh. <<if $Lorcan>>\ Like, he does look cute when he whines. <<else>>\ But in your defence, it's giving you a headache. <</if>>\ “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond, trying your best to sound nice. <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical > 0 and $Corrupt > 0 and $Worth > 0 and $Worthless > 0>>\ You don’t understand why he’s still so hung up on it. You find violence and death don’t stay with you long. Does no one else feel that way? You can’t imagine feeling so much emotion for everything. It would make you explode. Nor do you care to understand what it says about you that he thinks this way. Are you supposed to feel bad you said something to his father? Why? <<if $Lorcan>>\ Although, you don’t want him to feel bad cause you don't want to see him like that. <<else>>\ Ugh, people. <</if>>\ “Forgiveness is rare,” you respond monotonly, just to say something. <</if>>\ Grandma Stark nods. “I hope it finds my boy. He really is sweeter than he acts. I never understood how he could be with someone who treated him like that,” she sighs. She glances at you and gives you an apologetic smile, “sorry, hun. I know Orla was your sister and I shouldn’t speak bad of the dead.” You shift in your seat. You have always wondered how two people could be together yet be so different? Imre and Orla were a more logical pairing. But the former had no interest in the latter. <hr>\ * [[Ask what she means|Page 551][$ask2 to true]] * [[Let it go|Page 551]] </h3>

<h3><<if $ask2>>\ “Excuse me. But what do you mean by that?” you cough. She hums as she takes a sip from her mug. “Hmmm?” “What was wrong with their relationship?” you press.<<set $detectivepoints += 1>> She swallows her steaming cup of something and adjusts her glasses. “Well I don’t wanna put my grandson’s business out there…” She eyes you, you try to make yourself look placid and agreeable. Not too eager or she will clamp up. She takes a quick sip of her mug and sets it down on the scratched coffee table.v “I know boys can go crazy for girls. Especially someone as sensitive and loving as my Lorcan. But… with her it was intense. From the beginning it always felt like he would throw himself in front of her for a bullet while for her… She seemed to keep him around to be at her beck and call. He was like a little pup that did everything she asked. There were rumours about her going out with other guys and he would fly into a rage, fighting with whoever would say that. It wasn’t healthy and I didn’t like seeing him like that. My saving grace was that I thought she would leave him when she went off to college,” she tells, her eyes apologetic when they meet yours. “Did you believe those rumours?” you inquire. She reaches for her mug again and lifts it to her lips, “I think maybe he loved her more than she loved him.” You lean back in your seat and furrow your brows as you think if knowing more about this could be important. <<else>>\ It’s none of your business. It’s a relationship that made little sense to you but that has no bearing on your life. <<if $Lorcan>>\ Orla is the past. You’re here now, in front him. That’s what matters. <<else>>\ If grandma Stark didn’t like her it’s because Orla treated Lorcan like she treated everyone. <</if>>\ You and Lorcan’s grandma chat about miscellanous topics. Truth be told you’re brain is too preoccupied to engage but she seems not to mind, talking on about bingo. <</if>>\ It’s finally your turn and you nearly moan in relief when you strip off your costume. Your body instantly feels lighter. The hot water on your skin is a balsam on your coarse salty skin. Getting out the clumps of mud is a challenge and you groan as follicles rip out of your skull as you try to detangle the brown muck from your $haircolor hair. [[NEXT|Page 552]] </h3>

<h3>You rub a bar of soap in between your hands and furiously scrub your body. You find leaves in places better left unsaid. There are scratches where you don’t remember getting them. Maybe when you were trying to get James off of you? You pick at the mud and blood underneath your fingernails and rub the bottom of your feet. When you step out of the shower and tie the towel around your glistening body you look in the mirror and see the bruising on your neck. You gingerly touch the sensitive skin with your finger. It seems absurd that someone tried to kill you. <<if $skin is 'pale'>>\ Deep purple marks your alabaster skin. It’s entirely too noticeable that you’ll need Nia’s makeup skills to help you cover it up. <<elseif $skin is 'fair'>>\ Deep purple marks your rosy skin. It’s entirely too noticeable that you’ll need Nia’s makeup skills to help you cover it up. <<elseif $skin is 'tanned'>>\ Deep purple marks your olive skin. It’s not as noticeable as it would be on a lighter tone but it’s still visible. You’ll need Nia’s makeup skills to help you cover it up. <<elseif $skin is 'brown'>>\ Deep purple marks your tawny skin. It’s not as noticeable as it would be on a lighter tone but it’s still visible. Maybe minimal makeup would be sufficient, you’ll need to ask Nia. Her skin tone is a bit darker but she must have something. <<elseif $skin is 'very brown'>>\ Deep purple marks your bronze skin. It’s not as noticeable as it would be on a lighter tone but if someone were to stare longer than a few seconds they would see. Maybe minimal makeup would be sufficient, you’ll need to ask Nia. <</if>>\ Your eyes are entirely bloodshot. Now you know how’d you look if you could cry. <<if $murderer>>\ //I killed James//. That thought comes through the cloud of your mind with the force of a gale. You had been running on empty, your thoughts entirely focused on burying him, escaping the woods, dealing with Arthur and now you finally have time to think. //I killed James//. You took a knife and stabbed him. You watched the life drain from his eyes. You become his last image of the world. Right now he’s buried in a deep-neck of the woods while you’re here, breathing and alive and recently bathed. You see the breaking of a new day. He no longer will do that. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ And you feel… <hr>\ * [[Horrible|Page 553][$horrible to true]] * [[Regretful|Page 553][$regret to true]] * [[Guilty but safe|Page 553][$guilty to true]] <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ And you feel… <hr>\ * [[Still nothing|Page 553][$stillnothing to true]] * [[Addicted|Page 553][$addicted to true]] * [[Giddy|Page 553][$giddy to true]] <<elseif $Ethical == $Corrupt>>\ ''//You have unlocked the hidden path of amorality.//'' <<set $amorality to true>> You feel... <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep to true]] <</if>> <<elseif $imrem>>\ //Imre killed James.// That thought comes through the cloud of your mind with the force of a gale. You had been running on empty, your thoughts entirely focused on burying him, escaping the woods, dealing with Arthur and now you finally have time to think. //He killed James for me.// He choked him to death and then hugged you. You hadn’t had time to ask him if he was alright but… from what you saw it seemed like a chore to him. Is it just shock? Or is Imre truly as cold-hearted internally as you have always thought? <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Bad|Page 553*][$bad to true]] * [[Guilty but safe|Page 553*][$guilty2 to true]] * [[Worried|Page 553*][$worried to true]] <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Flattered|Page 553*][$flattered to true]] * [[Competitive|Page 553*][$compete to true]] * [[Aroused|Page 553*][$aroused to true]] <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical >= 3 and $Ethical <= 6 and $Corrupt >= 3 and $Corrupt <= 6>> You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok2 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry2 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep2 to true]] <<else>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok2 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry2 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep2 to true]] <</if>> <<elseif $niam>>\ //Nia killed James.// That thought comes through the cloud of your mind with the force of a gale. You had been running on empty, your thoughts entirely focused on burying him, escaping the woods, dealing with Arthur and now you finally have time to think. //She killed James for me.// She stabbed him with the same knife he wanted to stab you with. Then she practically pleaded with you to comfort her. Nia, so strong and resolute like a cliff, almost crumbled at the sight of what she had done. You know she must be internally losing her mind, you need to be there for her, help her. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Bad|Page 553**][$bad2 to true]] * [[Guilty but safe|Page 553**][$guilty3 to true]] * [[Worried|Page 553**][$worried2 to true]] <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Flattered|Page 553**][$flattered2 to true]] * [[Competitive|Page 553**][$compete2 to true]] * [[Aroused|Page 553**][$aroused2 to true]] <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical >= 3 and $Ethical <= 6 and $Corrupt >= 3 and $Corrupt <= 6>> You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok3 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry3 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep3 to true]] <<else>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok3 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry3 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep3 to true]] <</if>> <<elseif $lorcanm>>\ //Lorcan killed James.// That thought comes through the cloud of your mind with the force of a gale. You had been running on empty, your thoughts entirely focused on burying him, escaping the woods, dealing with Arthur and now you finally have time to think. //He killed James for me.// He bludgeoned him to death. He had nearly fallen apart right then and there. He, who a few hours ago had told you he would never see you as anything more than the person that destroyed his family— let you touch him. He allowed himself to need you. You need to speak to him. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Bad|Page 553***][$bad3 to true]] * [[Guilty but safe|Page 553***][$guilty4 to true]] * [[Worried|Page 553***][$worried3 to true]] <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[Flattered|Page 553***][$flattered3 to true]] * [[Competitive|Page 553***][$compete3 to true]] * [[Aroused|Page 553***][$aroused3 to true]] <<elseif $Ethical != $Corrupt and $Ethical >= 3 and $Ethical <= 6 and $Corrupt >= 3 and $Corrupt <= 6>> You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok4 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry4 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep4 to true]] <<else>>\ You feel… <hr>\ * [[🜒🜥 Ok|Page 553-A][$ok4 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Hungry|Page 553-A][$hungry4 to true]] * [[🜒🜥 Sleepy|Page 553-A][$sleep4 to true]] <</if>> <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $horrible>>\ You look at your hands. You lift them up to your face and see the crisscross of lines. The callousness and the scars. The short fingernails scrubbed raw. These hands stabbed someone. Before last night you were clean. Now, forever you will carry with you the moniker of murderer. A killer. <<set $feelbad to true>> Monster. You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. You disgust yourself. You killed a human being. It doesn’t matter if he bullied you, it doesn’t matter that he likely wasn’t going to be a person who cured cancer. He was still someone. What gives you the right to play God? No one should have that right. You grip your hair and rock yourself as the memories of that moment flash through your mind over and over again. “What have I done?” you whisper fearfully. “What have I done?” Why didn’t you just aim to incapacitate him? Why weren’t you thinking? What do you think his poor parents will feel when they find him missing? How will you be able to look those people in the eyes? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your freakout serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $regret>>\ You look at your hands. You lift them up to your face and see the crisscross of lines. The callousness and the scars. The short fingernails scrubbed raw. These hands stabbed someone. Before last night you were clean. Now, forever you will carry with you the moniker of murderer. A killer.<<set $feelbad to true>> Monster. You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn’t you stop to think? Why the fuck did you pick up that knife? Why not let him just kill you? To prevent this horrible gnawing feeling of despair inside your chest? Your heart pounds erratically, as if you’ll give yourself a heart attack from the panic your immoral actions have caused. “Why did I kill him?” you whisper fearfully. You had gone eighteen years without crossing that line. In spite of all your massive violent tendencies, you had never killed anyone. You’re tainted. Stained with the sin of death. You feel like dying and it doesn’t make it feel better because you deserve to suffer for this. You need to feel bad. It’s the only thing that could give you a semblance —however false— of hope. But there is no salvation for you. Is there? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your self-flagellation serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $guilty>>\ You look at your hands. You lift them up to your face and see the crisscross of lines. The callousness and the scars. The short fingernails scrubbed raw. These hands stabbed someone. Before last night you were clean. Now, forever you will carry with you the moniker of murderer. A killer.<<set $feelbad to true>> Monster. You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. But that isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing, the thing you don’t want to say out loud is that you feel safe. You feel like there’s less darkness encroaching upon your life because someone who tormented you is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore and that feels relieving. But also you feel like a bad person for even attaching any good emotion to this. Do you have the right to feel good? “I’m safe,” you say as you feel your principles rebel against finding a silver lining. Can you be a murderer and be moral? Be good? Must you feel only guilt to save yourself from… from what? Hell? What could condemn you but yourself. Isn’t that bad enough? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your lecturing serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $stillnothing>>\ Are you trying? How do you even begin? You raise your hands up to your face and examine these hands. These hands that have been capable of so much. You sit down on the toilet and rub your finger along the indents of your palm. You have killed. That is now a part of who you are. It will be like this until the day you die. But… you feel nothing about this news. You’re a smooth rock near a waterfall, the water slides off you. You curl your hands and look at the wall opposite you. You try to dig deeper within you to see where this apathy is coming from. Is it trauma? Will you burst into tears at the drop of a hat randomly? You know logically what a human is supposed to do. But perhaps this goes to show how little you get it. You were taught that goodness is contingent on committing a horrible crime and feeling shame. They said if you felt good, that was wrong. But you don’t even feel good. You just feel physically weary and empty. Is that worse? You have a feeling that if you asked someone about this, they would condemn you as a freak. You can’t force yourself to feel what others want you to do. You tried all your life, and you’re tired. This is who you are. You spend a while on the toilet, pondering. But your interrogation serves to clear your mind a bit more. You stand up and lay your palms on the sides of the sink. You look at yourself. <<elseif $addicted>>\ You see your reflection smile. You raise up your hands and look at the creases. These hands have killed someone. These hands become something more than boring apparatus connected to you for function. Imagine all you could with these hands? You sit on the toilet and run a delicate finger along the lines crossing your palm. You can’t help but replay the scene over and over again. The juicy details are never enough to satiate you. You close your eyes as you envision the moment your knife went into his chest. The feel of the skin giving beneath the blade. The sounds of squelching blood. The power, oh god, the power. You had never felt such exhilarating strength in your life. All your life you had never been able to understand true excitement. You thought you were broken. But maybe you’re just too different. Who's to tell you that’s wrong? How can something wrong make you feel so alive? You think about his body. A titan taken down by someone smaller than him. It’s like taking James’ life gave you something from him. Could this feeling be replicated? Duplicated? “I can do this again,” you whisper in awe. No one is stopping you. This doesn’t have to be the end. You could kill others. Those who deserve your wrath. You could make the forest your cemetery. Souls lost to violence forever belonging to you. You spend a while on the toilet, pondering. But your day-dreams serve to clear your mind a bit more. You stand up and lay your palms on the sides of the sink. You look at yourself. <<elseif $giddy>>\ You snort and cover your mouth in case anyone is outside the door listening. You look at your eyes, wrinkles of joy at the edges. You uncover your mouth and raise up your hands to examine them. Holy shit, you killed James. You sit down on the toilet and gently caress the lines on your palms. When you think about the face he made right as he was dying, it makes your mouth break into a big grin. You feel laughter bubbling up inside your chest and you allow yourself a chuckle. You feel electricity shoot throughout your legs. You tap your feet in order to exhaust this well of energy. You felt so tired when you arrived at this house but now you feel as if you could run a mile. You could go visit his grave whenever you want. That thought makes you sigh in contentment. You could relive what you did over and over again. You hope this feeling doesn’t dull with time. “Ha, bastard,” you whisper triumphantly. You won. You beat that asshole! Who’s the loser now! You stand up and giddily swirl around in a circle. You’ve never truly learned how to dance but damn it, you’re just so fucking happy! He wanted to crush you into the Earth and he ended up dying like a little bitch! You bet he isn’t laughing so hard in hell now. It might be childish to gloat but no one is around to see and you have the right. After a bit more happy dancing you get tired again and lean towards the sink. Enough celebratory masturbation. You lay your palms against the sink and lean in to really take a look. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 554]] </h3>

<h3><<if $bad>>\ Even though you didn’t kill him yourself. Even though it wasn’t your hand that took his life, you still feel bad about it. James would’ve never died if it wasn’t for you. Imre was put in that position because of you. Perhaps he doesn’t feel bad but you didn’t want him to become a murderer. Already, you have worries over Imre’s character. Over whether you can be with someone like that and suddenly you’ve given him the perfect situation to give into his more base desires. How will this fundamentally change your relationship with him?<<set $feelbad to true>> You sigh and cover your face, feeling your knees give out underneath you. Kneeling on the fuzzy carpet you think about how practical he was. Detached. He’s acting as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred and that scares you. If you thank him, it will make you feel as if you’re excusing him. As if you’re telling him it’s ok for him to kill for you. What are you going to do? Maybe you would’ve felt less conflicted if you had killed James instead. But you don’t know if you’d trade this confusion to become someone you’re not. You stand up and look at yourself in the mirror. <<elseif $guilty2>>\ Imre killed someone to defend you. No one had ever done something like that for you. Romance would dictate that you should feel flattered for this action. But you feel sick. You feel as if you’ve done something horrible to Imre. You don’t care that he seems to be fine with it. You didn’t want to throw your personal shit on others.<<set $feelbad to true>> You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. But that isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing, the thing you don’t want to say out loud is that you feel safe. You feel like there’s less darkness encroaching upon your life because someone who tormented you is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore and that feels relieving. But also you feel like a bad person for even attaching any good emotion to this. Do you have the right to feel good? “I’m safe. Imre protected me,” you say as you feel your principles rebel against finding a silver lining. Can you fall in love with a murderer and be moral? Be good? Must you feel only guilt to save yourself from… from what? Hell? What could condemn you but yourself. Isn’t that bad enough? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your lecturing serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $worried>>\ Worried about who? Imre? James? His family? Yourself? Everything?<<set $feelbad to true>> Imre dirtied up his hands in your name. Then Nia and Lorcan got involved. All because James had a vendetta for you. If only you hadn’t… You rub your forehead and groan. So many lives could be destroyed. How will you be able to even sleep knowing that James’ body is decaying in the woods? Every ring of the telephone will make you jump. When they start searching for him in the woods you’ll likely vomit up all your food. You can’t only worry about yourself. You also have to worry about Imre. Could he go to jail? He’s rich, his father is the mayor. That must count for a lot. He’s smart too, he wouldn’t get caught. If he does, the judge can get paid off. You don’t want to lose him. Not to jail and not to the darkness that you feel within him. The kind he isn’t so keen on shedding. You feel your head spin with all these bad outcomes that you have to grip onto the sink to not fall to your knees. You breathe in sharply and try to pull yourself together. You look into the mirror. <<elseif $flattered>>\ You smile at yourself, your cheeks pulled high when you think of what he did for you. No one has ever done something so important in your name. And not just anyone. Imre Duran, the boy everyone wants, killed someone for you. You feel a warm fluttering in your chest. It makes you want to smile and never stop. You sit down on the toilet and lay your chin on your fist as you think about the future. You’re important to him, on a personal level. You’re not one of those lost causes he deigns to be nice to keep up a façade. You’re sure that he’s never cared enough for anyone to feel that way. You know this because you’re the same. Unlike him you’ve never tried to be sociable or likable. Through this incredible show of devotion he told you that you’re better than the others in his eyes. That all those fans of his he has seduced, fucked, kissed are just cannon fodder. You’re someone good enough —better than good— to look in the eyes and commit any monstrosity for. You finally found someone who sees the world as you do and not only won’t judge you but applaud you, support you and love you for it. The only thing you lament is that it took you this long to find each other. You stand up and look back in the mirror. <<elseif $compete>>\ You smirk, feeling equally happy but also a bit pissed off. You sit down on the toilet and prop your head up with your fist. That should’ve been your kill. If anyone should’ve done away with James it shouldn't have been you. You deserved it. You wanted to be the one to wipe the stupid smile off his face. Knowing what you know about Imre, he will likely —with that subtle underhandedness of his— gloat. You don’t want to be in his debt. You might be unbelievably attracted to him but that doesn’t mean you’re blind. It’s not good to owe Imre Duran anything. He won’t spare you and you’re glad he won’t go easy. It shows he respects you more than the brainless townies. You’re good enough to be a rival. You don’t know if going down this path will lead to more death but it won’t be presumptuous to think so. You smile. In the end who will have the bigger kill count? And what will be the reward? Your life has gotten infinitely more interesting. Who knew a pretence at morality was holding you back? You found your partner in crime and a worthy competition all in one. How lucky. You stand up and look into the mirror. <<elseif $aroused>>\ You think about how manly he looked killing James. The strength in his arms that led him to strangle the life out of James. You wonder how he would strangle you, you can almost feel his hands around your neck. The softness of his fingers as they dig into your skin. His lips hovering against yours, your strangled breaths mingling with his own arousal. You sit on the toilet and press your legs together, the flood of heat spreading from the center of your genitals towards your thighs and down your legs to make your toes curl and your mouth dry. You feel the droplets of water on your skin, sliding down your chest, across your nipples and sigh. <<if $masturbationImre>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You had masturbated to thoughts of him before but that was nothing compared to the fire raging within you now. Imre is an attractive boy, it isn’t surprising for anyone to feel horny thinking of him. But you might’ve arrogantly thought this was all a game. <<else>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You never knew you could respond to another person like this. Imre is an attractive boy, it isn’t surprising for anyone to feel horny thinking of him. But you might’ve arrogantly thought this was all a game. <</if>>\ Perhaps it began that way. It made it easier to not have to think of what it means if it were real. No, spending all this time with him has changed you. Has made you into a sexual being that vividly imagines being at his mercy. Allowing him to lead you over the edge, towards death and gladly allowing it because that’s what you want too. You want him to kill for you, always. You want him to kill you. You want to kill him. You want to touch yourself as you watch him take another life. You want him to then touch you with those same hands, staining you with what he’s done. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 554]] </h3>

<h3><<if $bad2>>\ Even though you didn’t kill him yourself. Even though it wasn’t your hand that took his life, you still feel bad about it. James would’ve never died if it wasn’t for you. Nia was put in that position because of you. You know her as if she were yourself and she must feel like a monster. Things are still so fragile between you two, could this damage the progress you’ve made? You still don’t know why she left you at your lowest and now maybe this will make her think she was right to push you out of her life. How will this fundamentally change your relationship with her?<<set $feelbad to true>> You sigh and cover your face, feeling your knees give out underneath you. Kneeling on the fuzzy carpet you think about how she trembled. How she must feel that her whole life’s purpose is worthless because she took a life. No matter if it wasn't a cold-blooded murder. If you thank her, it will make her feel awful. She would feel offended that you could think that was something to celebrate or admire. What are you going to do? You wring your hands nervously. Maybe you would’ve felt less conflicted if you had killed James instead. But you don’t know if you’d trade this confusion to become someone you’re not. But maybe you would've done it to spare Nia the pain. You stand up and look at yourself in the mirror. <<elseif $guilty3>>\ Nia killed someone to defend you. No one had ever done something like that for you. Romance would dictate that you should feel flattered for this action. But you feel sick. You feel as if you’ve done something horrible to her and obviously you’re right given her reaction to it. You didn’t want to throw your personal shit on others. You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. But that isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing, the thing you don’t want to say out loud is that you feel safe. You feel like there’s less darkness encroaching upon your life because someone who tormented you is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore and that feels relieving. But also you feel like a bad person for even attaching any good emotion to this. Do you have the right to feel good? “I’m safe. Nia protected me, like always,” you say as you feel your principles rebel against finding a silver lining.<<set $feelbad to true>> Can you make the girl you’re deeply crushing on become a killer and be moral? Be good? Must you feel only guilt to save yourself from… from what? Hell? What could condemn you but yourself. Isn’t that bad enough? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your lecturing serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $worried2>>\ Worried about who? Nia? James? His family? Yourself? Everything? Nia dirtied up her hands in your name. Then Imre and Lorcan got involved. All because James had a vendetta for you. If only you hadn’t… You rub your forehead and groan. So many lives could be destroyed. How will you be able to even sleep knowing that James’ body is decaying in the woods? Every ring of the telephone will make you jump. When they start searching for him in the woods you’ll likely vomit up all your food. You can’t only worry about yourself. You also have to worry about Nia. Could she go to jail? She’s loaded, her father is the richest man in town. That must count for a lot. She’s smart as a whip too, she wouldn’t get caught. If she does, the judge can get paid off. <<set $feelbad to true>> You don’t want to lose her, you’ve done it once and it broke you. Not to jail and not to the darkness that could consume her. The kind she never wanted. You feel your head spin with all these bad outcomes that you have to grip onto the sink to not fall to your knees. You breathe in sharply and try to pull yourself together. You look into the mirror. <<elseif $flattered2>>\ You smile at yourself, your cheeks pulled high when you think of what she did for you. No one has ever done something so important in your name. And not just anyone. Nia Mir, the girl people fall head over heels for, killed someone for you. You feel a warm fluttering in your chest. It makes you want to smile and never stop. You sit down on the toilet and lay your chin on your fist as you think about the future. You’re important to her, on a personal level. Yes, over a decade of friendship should’ve told you that but you admit you doubted. But now you know she never stopped caring for you and she would do anything to show you. You know this because you’re the same. You would burn the world for her. Through this incredible show of devotion she told you that you’re better than the others in her eyes. That all those lovers of hers she has seduced, fucked, kissed are just place holders. You’re someone good enough —better than good— to look in the eyes and commit any monstrosity for. You finally found someone who would compromise everything about who they are just to get you back. To keep you breathing. Isn’t that amazing? The only thing you lament is that it took you this long to figure this out. You stand up and look back in the mirror. <<elseif $compete2>>\ You smirk, feeling equally happy but also a bit pissed off. You sit down on the toilet and prop your head up with your fist. That should’ve been your kill. If anyone should’ve done away with James it shouldn't have been you. You deserved it. You wanted to be the one to wipe the stupid smile off his face. Knowing what you know about Nia, she will likely —with that subtle underhandedness of his— try to make you feel bad because she feels bad. You don’t want to be in her debt. You might be unbelievably attracted to her but that doesn’t mean you’re blind. You don’t want to pretend this isn’t who you are to her anymore. She has to see and accept what you are. Otherwise she will spend the rest of your budding relationship trying to see an idealized version of who you are. She can’t change? That’s her problem. But you won’t change. You smile. Maybe to get her to shut up and love you, you’ll have to kill someone for her. Your life has gotten infinitely more interesting. Who knew a pretence at morality was holding you back? However, your clashing moralities are a problem to deal with later. Right now you can enjoy this. You stand up and look into the mirror. <<elseif $aroused2>>\ You think about how sexy she looked killing James. The strength in her arms that led her to stab the life out of James. You wonder how she would stab you, you can almost feel her weight on top of yours. The softness of thighs as they dig into your skin. Her lips hovering over yours, your gasping breaths mingling with her own exertion. You sit on the toilet and press your legs together, the flood of heat spreading from the center of your genitals towards your thighs and down your legs to make your toes curl and your mouth dry. You feel the droplets of water on your skin, sliding down your chest, across your nipples and sigh. <<if $masturabtionNia>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You had masturbated to thoughts of her before but that was nothing compared to the fire raging within you now. Nia is a beautiful girl, it isn’t surprising for anyone to feel horny thinking of her. But you might’ve arrogantly thought you were more immune since you spent so many years in her presence. <<else>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You never knew you could respond to another person like this. Nia is a beautiful girl, it isn’t surprising for anyone to feel horny thinking of her. But you might’ve arrogantly thought you were more immune since you spent so many years in her presence. <</if>>\ Perhaps it began that way, how could you have thought these things when you were a kid? It made it easier to not have to think of what it means if it were real. No, spending all this time with her again has changed both of you. Has made you into a sexual being that vividly imagines being at her mercy. Allowing her to lead you over the edge, towards death and gladly allowing it because that’s what you want too. You want her to kill for you, always. You would offer yourself up to her knife. You want to touch yourself as you watch her take another life. You want her to then touch you with those same hands, staining you with what she’s done with her long sharp nails. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 554]] </h3>

<h3><<if$bad3>>\ Even though you didn’t kill him yourself. Even though it wasn’t your hand that took his life, you still feel bad about it. James would’ve never died if it wasn’t for you. Lorcan was put in that position because of you. All these years of rivalry has gotten you to know him. He isn’t taking this well. Things are still so new and potentially explosive between you two, could this damage the progress you’ve made? You still don’t know if he could ever truly see you as anything more than the person who ruined his life. What if this confirms it for him? How will this fundamentally change your relationship with him?<<set $feelbad to true>> You sigh and cover your face, feeling your knees give out underneath you. Kneeling on the fuzzy carpet you think about how he cried. How he must feel knowing he’s done something his father did. No matter if it wasn't a cold-blooded murder. If you thank hom, it will make him angry. He would feel offended that you could think that was something to celebrate or admire. Or he would think you want to make him feel shitty. What are you going to do? You wring your hands nervously. Maybe you would’ve felt less conflicted if you had killed James instead. But you don’t know if you’d trade this confusion to become someone you’re not. Although, sparing Lorcan might’ve been worth it. You stand up and look at yourself in the mirror. <<elseif $guilty4>>\ Lorcan killed someone to defend you. No one had ever done something like that for you. Romance would dictate that you should feel flattered for this action. But you feel sick. You feel as if you’ve done something horrible to him and obviously you’re right given his reaction to it. You didn’t want to throw your personal shit on others.<<set $feelbad to true>> You let out a shaky breath and cover your face. You slip down to the floor and press your back against the bathtub. But that isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing, the thing you don’t want to say out loud is that you feel safe. You feel like there’s less darkness encroaching upon your life because someone who tormented you is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore and that feels relieving. But also you feel like a bad person for even attaching any good emotion to this. Do you have the right to feel good? “I’m safe. Lorcan saved my life,” you say as you feel your principles rebel against finding a silver lining. Can you turn the boy you have complicated feelings for into a killer and be moral? Be good? Must you feel only guilt to save yourself from… from what? Hell? What could condemn you but yourself. Isn’t that bad enough? You let out gasps, half-formed things that expel forth from your mouth as if your body is a deflating balloon. You spend a while on the floor. But your lecturing serves to clear your mind a bit more. With shaky legs you stand up and grip the sink for support. You look at yourself. <<elseif $worried3>>\ Worried about who? Lorcan? James? His family? Yourself? Everything?<<set $feelbad to true>> Lorcan dirtied up his hands in your name. Then Imre and Nia got involved. All because James had a vendetta for you. If only you hadn’t… You rub your forehead and groan. So many lives could be destroyed. How will you be able to even sleep knowing that James’ body is decaying in the woods? Every ring of the telephone will make you jump. When they start searching for him in the woods you’ll likely vomit up all your food. You can’t only worry about yourself. You also have to worry about Lorcan. Could he go to jail? He doesn’t have a pot to piss in. What lawyer would take his case? He’s street smart but impulsive he could say something stupid. He could get caught. If he does, who would bribe the judge? You don’t want to lose him, now that you’re finally starting to find him. Not to jail and not to the darkness that could consume him. You feel your head spin with all these bad outcomes that you have to grip onto the sink to not fall to your knees. You breathe in sharply and try to pull yourself together. You look into the mirror. <<elseif $flattered3>>\ You smile at yourself, your cheeks pulled high when you think of what he did for you. No one has ever done something so important in your name. And not just anyone. Lorcan Stark, the boy who has told you to kill yourself, killed someone for you. You feel a warm fluttering in your chest. It makes you want to smile and never stop. You sit down on the toilet and lay your chin on your fist as you think about the future. You’re important to him, on a personal level. Obviously, him hating you so ardently is a sign you’re important but you want to be important to him in a different way. Now you know you are. You know this because you’re the same. He matters more to you than most even when you hated him. Through this incredible show of devotion he told you that you’re better than the others in his eyes. That he hates everyone but you. You’re someone good enough —better than good— to look in the eyes and commit any monstrosity for. You finally found someone who would compromise everything they stand for just to see you everyday. To keep you breathing. Isn’t that amazing? The only thing you lament is that it took you both this long to get here. You stand up and look back in the mirror. <<elseif $compete3>>\ You smirk, feeling equally happy but also a bit pissed off. You sit down on the toilet and prop your head up with your fist. That should’ve been your kill. If anyone should’ve done away with James it shouldn't have been you. You deserved it. You wanted to be the one to wipe the stupid smile off his face. Knowing what you know about Lorcan, he will likely —with that righteousness of his— try to make you feel bad for what he did. You don’t want to be in his debt. You might feel a certain way about him but that doesn’t mean you’re blind. You don’t want to pretend this isn’t who you are to him. He has to see and accept what you are. You hope he likes it. Otherwise he will spend the rest of this investigation thinking you proved to be who he thought you were. He thinks you caused all his problems? Fine. But he can’t deny what he did for you. You smile. Maybe to get him to shut up and worship you, you’ll have to kill someone for him. Your life has gotten infinitely more interesting. Who knew a pretence at morality was holding you back? However, your clashing moralities are a problem to deal with later. Right now you can enjoy this. You stand up and look into the mirror. <<elseif $aroused3>>\ You think about how badass he looked, killing James. The strength in his arms that led him to hit the life out of James. You wonder how he would hit you, you can almost feel his body backing you up against a wall. The scars on his knuckles connecting to your face. His reddened cheeks and sweaty skin making him look breathtaking. The blood from your mouth spraying onto his bitten lips. You sit on the toilet and press your legs together, the flood of heat spreading from the center of your genitals towards your thighs and down your legs to make your toes curl and your mouth dry. You feel the droplets of water on your skin, sliding down your chest, across your nipples and sigh. <<if $masturbationLorcan>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You had masturbated to thoughts of him before but that was nothing compared to the fire raging within you now. Lorcan has a strange beauty to him, it isn’t surprising it could be compelling. If your sister was enticed, that must say something. But you might’ve arrogantly thought you wouldn’t be allured to it due to the years of contention you had. <<else>>\ You’ve never felt such desire before. You never knew you could respond to another person like this. Lorcan has a strange beauty to him, it isn’t surprising it could be compelling. If your sister was enticed, that must say something. But you might’ve arrogantly thought you wouldn’t be allured to it due to the years of contention you had. <</if>>\ It began that way, how could you have thought these things when he actively tried to make your life miserable? It made it easier to not have to think of what it means if it were real. No, spending all this time with him again has changed something in both of you. Has made you into a sexual being that vividly imagines being at his mercy. Allowing him to lead you over the edge, towards death and gladly allowing it because that’s what you want too. You want him to kill for you, always. You would offer yourself to be the punching bag he takes out all his desire on. You want to touch yourself as you watch him take another life. You want him to then touch you with those same hands, staining you with what he’s done with his thin scarred hands. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 554]] </h3>

<h3>As you shove your legs into bottoms that aren’t yours, you also think about the fight that led you to be in the backyard for James’ attack. Your so-called Scooby group was so busy in-fighting that they didn’t even think to ask you how you were. In a way, why would they? You had spent your whole life never saying anything, letting insults, humiliation and abuse rain down on you because that’s the only way you knew how to live. What can seem implausible to others can be the norm for the few. For God’s sake your own family treated you less like a person and more like a doll they projected all their failures and delusions onto. You’ve been pushed around for so long, do you know what’s it like to stand on your own two feet, chin held up high with a voice that demands to be heard over the rest? <<if $Worth > 3>>\ No. You don’t. But you want to know what it feels like to feel like the air you breathe isn’t taking up space. You want to know what it feels like to ask— no, to ''demand'' to be seen as a person and respected. James, a person who everyone would say contributed something, was worthwhile and useful somehow died while you lived. Does that not mean something? Something more than just death. Something more than having one less bully. Whoever decides these things, whatever universe or God is looking down at you, has fortune tipped to your favour. Your life mattered in that moment. Matters. <<if $water>>\ You take a gulp of your water, now gone lukewarm. It does help in taking away the amount of mud you likely ate last night. <<elseif $band>>\ You grit your teeth and gently envelop the gauze around your finger, making sure to keep your finger as straight as possible. <<elseif $tooth>>\ You add a dollop of toothpaste to the new plastic toothbrush Grandma Stark gave you. You rub vigorously, spitting out used paste tinged with brown. <<elseif $tylenol>>\ You throw two pills in your mouth and bend down to drink from the tap. Hopefully this will do the trick. <</if>>\ Why did it take until now to realize that you didn’t have to take it? Why didn’t this happen when your mother looked at you with disgust? When Orla would torment you with jeers at school? When people would accuse you of murder? Maybe it needed to happen now. <<if$feelbad>>\ The other part of you, the one that wants to die for what you’ve caused, protests loudly. The insults in your mind are potent and you no longer need your friend to make you feel like human waste. Will you never be free of this paradoxical turmoil? Maybe you’re just human. <<else>>\ All of you is in agreement. For the first time in your life you feel as if you’re not fighting with yourself. It feels liberating. You can finally start looking in the mirror and say… //I am human//. <</if>>\ <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ No. You don’t. And you don’t deserve to. Everything you touch, everything around you turns to death in your hands because that’s all you’re good for. No good can spring from a being like you. Nothing worthwhile can grow from your hands. Why does someone like you deserve to live? No one would pick you to live over someone like James. He was the type of person to have a bright future. What were you going to do? Nothing. Pathetically stay under the care of your brother until you keel over in old age. Why would Imre, Nia or Lorcan spare you a thought? You’re worthless. You’re nothing. You’re trash. <<if $water>>\ You take a gulp of your water, now gone lukewarm. It does help in taking away the amount of mud you likely ate last night. <<elseif $band>>\ You grit your teeth and gently envelop the gauze around your finger, making sure to keep your finger as straight as possible. <<elseif $tooth>>\ You add a dollop of toothpaste to the new plastic toothbrush Grandma Stark gave you. You rub vigorously, spitting out used paste tinged with brown. <<elseif $tylenol>>\ You throw two pills in your mouth and bend down to drink from the tap. Hopefully this will do the trick. <</if>>\ It’s high-time you accepted it. It took eighteen years for your stupidly puny brain to get it. Better late than never. You wouldn’t be surprised if the others cut their losses and ran. You would if you were faced with someone like you. Perhaps you deserve to be buried next to James. <<nobr>> <<if not $feelbad>> But there are many others who deserve to be dragged down with you. <</if>> <</nobr>> <<elseif $Worth > 0 and $Worthless > 0>>\ But at the same time... how much do you care what others think of you? What bearing does a stranger's opinion have on you? None at all. You will continue going as you’ve always done. <<if $water>>\ You take a gulp of your water, now gone lukewarm. It does help in taking away the amount of mud you likely ate last night. <<elseif $band>>\ You grit your teeth and gently envelop the gauze around your finger, making sure to keep your finger as straight as possible. <<elseif $tooth>>\ You add a dollop of toothpaste to the new plastic toothbrush Grandma Stark gave you. You rub vigorously, spitting out used paste tinged with brown. <<elseif $tylenol>>\ You throw two pills in your mouth and bend down to drink from the tap. Hopefully this will do the trick. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 555]] </h3>

<h3>When you finally leave the bathroom, Grandma Stark is sipping on a mug. <<if $Lorcan>>\ She looks down at your shirt and grins. You feel your face uncomfortably heat. You hope she doesn’t pry. <<else>>\ She looks down at your shirt and smiles. “That was my husband’s pair of PJs.” Well that’s a bit uncomfortable. <</if>>\ “I don’t have a lot of space in this house. Lorcan is always telling me to throw things out,” she laughs and sets her mug down on the newspaper she’s reading. “So, where do I go?” you ask. “Lorcan went to his room, the girl… Mia? Nia? Yes, Nia. She has the pullout in the storage slash guest room and that handsome boy has the blow-up mat in the living room,” she points in front of her, her voice attempting to whisper. Your eyebrows rise. “Are you saying I have to share a bed with one of them?” She nods and takes a loud slurp of her mug. “Mmmhhhmmmm. Don’t worry I won’t come in unexpectedly. I know how the youth are ‘cause I was just as bad. In ‘67 I was once sandwiched between two men–” “Thank you!” you blurt out and hasten to your sleeping accommodations. You decide to bunk with… <hr>\ * [[Imre|Page 556-C][$imrebunk to true]] * [[Nia|Page 556-C][$niabunk to true]] * [[Lorcan|Page 556-C][$lorcanbunk to true]] </h3>

<h3>Patreon access. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password8">></h3>

<h3><<if $ok>>\ A bit sore, but it’s not the first time you’ve felt like shit and certainly won’t be the last. What’s on your mind is the headache of all these loose threads. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Hopefully you won’t have to explain what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. So really, you hope you’re left alone about any deep talks trying to school you on why you should feel bad or ―in someone like Imre’s case― why you should feel proud. <<elseif $hungry>>\ Who knew having to bury a body took so much toil on the body? Cause you sure didn’t. You were definitely not made disposal. You’re tired but there’s a gnawing in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Some chips at the party, perhaps? Maybe Grandma Stark has cereal somewhere. Although, it is a bit annoying having to deal with yet another body. A live one at that. Your life used to be much simpler when you were a loner. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Hopefully you won’t have to explain what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. Your stomach grumbles. <<elseif $sleep>>\ You rub your eyes. Your head feels light and you could just faint now. You wouldn’t say you have the healthiest sleep schedule but without psychotics, you’ve never made a habit of going to bed at 8 am. Even with all the issues you currently have on your hands, you find your most pressing problem is that you need to fucking sleep. What will happen with James? With Arthur? You can’t find you give a fuck right now. You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Hopefully you won’t have to explain what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. You yawn. <<elseif $ok2>>\ A bit sore, but it’s not the first time you’ve felt like shit and certainly won’t be the last. What’s on your mind is the headache of all these loose threads. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Well, you know Imre feels fine too, so thankfully you won’t have to explain to him what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. So really, you hope you’re left alone about any deep talks trying to school you on why you should feel bad or ―in someone like Imre’s case― why you should feel proud. <<elseif $hungry2>>\ Who knew having to bury a body took so much toil on the body? Cause you sure didn’t. You were definitely not made disposal. You’re tired but there’s a gnawing in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Some chips at the party, perhaps? Maybe Grandma Stark has cereal somewhere. Although, it is a bit annoying having to deal with yet another body. A live one at that. Your life used to be much simpler when you were a loner. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Well, you know Imre feels fine too, so thankfully you won’t have to explain to him what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. Your stomach grumbles. <<elseif $sleep2>>\ You rub your eyes. Your head feels light and you could just faint now. You wouldn’t say you have the healthiest sleep schedule but without psychotics, you’ve never made a habit of going to bed at 8 am. Even with all the issues you currently have on your hands, you find your most pressing problem is that you need to fucking sleep. What will happen with James? With Arthur? You can’t find you give a fuck right now. You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. Well, you know Imre feels fine too, so thankfully you won’t have to explain to him what you mean why you say that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. You yawn. <<elseif $ok3>>\ A bit sore, but it’s not the first time you’ve felt like shit and certainly won’t be the last. What’s on your mind is the headache of all these loose threads. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You know Nia will want to talk about it. She has never understood you in this. How can you begin to make her understand that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you? That you'll have trouble comforting her? You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. So really, you hope you’re left alone about any deep talks trying to school you on why you should feel bad or ―in someone like Imre’s case― why you should feel proud. <<elseif $hungry3>>\ Who knew having to bury a body took so much toil on the body? Cause you sure didn’t. You were definitely not made disposal. You’re tired but there’s a gnawing in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Some chips at the party, perhaps? Maybe Grandma Stark has cereal somewhere. Although, it is a bit annoying having to deal with yet another body. A live one at that. Your life used to be much simpler when you were a loner. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You know Nia will want to talk about it. She has never understood you in this. How can you begin to make her understand that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you? That you'll have trouble comforting her? You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. Your stomach grumbles. <<elseif $sleep3>>\ You rub your eyes. Your head feels light and you could just faint now. You wouldn’t say you have the healthiest sleep schedule but without psychotics, you’ve never made a habit of going to bed at 8 am. Even with all the issues you currently have on your hands, you find your most pressing problem is that you need to fucking sleep. What will happen with James? With Arthur? You can’t find you give a fuck right now. You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You know Nia will want to talk about it. She has never understood you in this. How can you begin to make her understand that none of this has any positive or negative influence on you? That you'll have trouble comforting her? You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. You yawn. <<elseif $ok4>>\ A bit sore, but it’s not the first time you’ve felt like shit and certainly won’t be the last. What’s on your mind is the headache of all these loose threads. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You don’t know how Lorcan will take it. Does he even want to talk to you about it? You think you might be the last person he comes to because you’re the reason he killed someone. You also don’t know how to comfort him because of your lack of understanding over why this is so emotionally devastating. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. So really, you hope you’re left alone about any deep talks trying to school you on why you should feel bad or ―in someone like Imre’s case― why you should feel proud. <<elseif $hungry4>>\ Who knew having to bury a body took so much toil on the body? Cause you sure didn’t. You were definitely not made disposal. You’re tired but there’s a gnawing in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Some chips at the party, perhaps? Maybe Grandma Stark has cereal somewhere. Although, it is a bit annoying having to deal with yet another body. A live one at that. Your life used to be much simpler when you were a loner. Did you bury James deep enough? What will you do with Arthur? You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You don’t know how Lorcan will take it. Does he even want to talk to you about it? You think you might be the last person he comes to because you’re the reason he killed someone. You also don’t know how to comfort him because of your lack of understanding over why this is so emotionally devastating. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. Your stomach grumbles. <<elseif $sleep4>>\ You rub your eyes. Your head feels light and you could just faint now. You wouldn’t say you have the healthiest sleep schedule but without psychotics, you’ve never made a habit of going to bed at 8 am. Even with all the issues you currently have on your hands, you find your most pressing problem is that you need to fucking sleep. What will happen with James? With Arthur? You can’t find you give a fuck right now. You hope you don’t have to get into a conversation with the others about ‘feelings.’ Technically, the last eight hours would fall into the Traumatic Event box. But you truly feel fine. You don’t know how Lorcan will take it. Does he even want to talk to you about it? You think you might be the last person he comes to because you’re the reason he killed someone. You also don’t know how to comfort him because of your lack of understanding over why this is so emotionally devastating. You snort, why should it? The James thing wasn’t preplanned and neither was the Arthur thing. It just happened that way. You weren’t planning on hurting anyone but you can’t say you’re agonizing over it either. You’ve tried for it to mean something. You’re not an emotionless monster. But after everything that happened tonight you’ve decided to just accept this is your way of viewing things. You yawn. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 554]] </h3>

DARK STORY INVESTIGATOR 8 - c

<h3><<if $imrebunk>>\ Your steps are silent, covered by the thick brown carpet. The coffee table has been pushed to the side to make room for the mattress on which Imre lies under an extreme floral-patterned blanket. His eyes flicker from the ceiling to you and he smiles briefly before looking up again. You slip under the covers, the blanket is thick and immensely warm. Which isn’t so bad as you hear the rain begin to patter against the windows. The momentarily sun of the early morning has once more disappeared under thick dark gray clouds. You notice that Imre has his hands clasped together on top of his stomach. That’s when you realize he isn’t wearing a shirt. His tanned skin glistens from his shower… did he get lotion? You smell something faintly clean like freshly washed clothes. His soft brown curls hang heavily against his brow but still tightly curled, as if Grandma Stark had provided him with rollers. His chest rises and falls calmly and sometimes he taps his fingers. “Did you want something?” he asks. Your eyes move from his hands to his face. He’s still looking up at the ceiling. Your eyes go there too. It’s white popcorn textured, a few flecks missing here and there and some wet stains at the corners. “I just notice things,” you croak. “I didn’t think you’d come here,” he says. [[NEXT|Page 557]] <<elseif $niabunk>>\ The door creaks open rather loudly and that alerts Nia to your presence. She’s twisting her tightly curled hair into a bun. A satin scarf lies on her thighs. She glances at you briefly before taking up the scarf and wrapping it around her hair. You sit on the edge of the bed and watch her deftly skilled hands. “I should keep an emergency bonnet in my purse,” she comments. “You never know when you might be accidentally staying in a trailer park,” you reply. Nia scoffs. “A trailer park. I don’t care to know how the hell these things work but why does he live in a house and not in a trailer?” You furrow your brow, “good question. I think this house was likely here before it became a trailer park.” “Maybe. I could’ve done worse. I can stomach sleeping on an old frumpy mattress for a few hours. I wouldn’t be able to sleep on a smelly fucking sleeping bag,” she says with a bitter edge to her tone. These past few hours must've been the worst of her life. You take a chance to give her a onceover. She’s wearing a shirt… and nothing else. It’s olive green and oversized, barely reaching her mid-thigh and it has a graphic of a koala with glasses. [[NEXT|Page 557*]] <<elseif $lorcanbunk>>\ The door surprisingly doesn’t creak when you open it with your fingertips. Lorcan has his bare back to you and you see clearly the bones that are barely hidden by his skin. You’ve never had time to think how thin he is. A strong wind could blow him away if he wasn’t so stubborn. You take a step into the room and the creak makes him whip his head in your direction. When he sees it’s you he instantly gets a scowl but he wipes it away and looks back at what he’s doing. “I wanna sleep, Crowny. I don’t want to deal with any more shit today,” he claims gruffly. Maybe it was the trick of the light but you think his eyes look a little red. “So…” “So what?” You finger the groves in the door frame, “I need somewhere to sleep.” Lorcan’s shoulders stiffen nearly to his ears. You hear him mumble something. He throws on a t-shirt and turns toward you with his arms crossed. His face looks strained and deathly pale. His pale blond hair sticks to his neck. “You gonna sleep here?” he asks, his voice a telling sign that he really doesn’t want that to happen. You shrug a shoulder, “I didn’t really know where else I could sleep.” <<if $Nia>>\ Lorcan growls, “isn’t Nia your best friend? You can go to her!” <<elseif $Imre>>\ Lorcan growls, “isn’t Imre your friend? You can go to him!” <<else>>\ Lorcan growls, “sleep on the couch then!” <</if>>\ <<if $LorcanRF > 3 || $LorcanRA > 2 || $LorcanP>>\ <hr>\ * [[“I don’t have germs, you know.”|Page 557**][$germs to true]] * [[“Are you scared or something?”|Page 557**][$scarl to true]] * [[“Pleaseeeeeeee?”|Page 557**][$pwease to true]] * [[“If you don’t let me sleep in here I’ll bother you until you do.”|Page 557**][$annoyl to true]] <<elseif $LorcanRF <= 3 && $LorcanRA <= 2>>\ You open your mouth to respond but before you can Lorcan rushes to the door and slams it in your face. You turn the knob and push but he’s locked it. “Asshole,” you curse and leave. You end up getting a blanket from Imre and laying on the couch that smells like stale cigarettes. <<set $kickedoutlorcan to true>> [[NEXT|Page 563]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Password is '3347'>>[[Correct!|Page 556]]\<<elseif $Password is not '3347'>>Incorrect. <<textbox "$Password" "" "Check Password8">><</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. Of course, it’s because it’s early morning and everyone is asleep. But it feels… you don’t know. <<if $homei>>\ You see his cheek move out of the corner of your eye. His body is near yours, very near because this mattress isn’t that big. He reaches out and touches the silver cross on your chest. You had forgotten you had it on. Since he gave it to you, you don’t even take it off to shower. He pulls on it with his finger to bring you closer. <<else>>\ You see his cheek move out of the corner of your eye. His body is near yours, very near because this mattress isn’t that big. <</if>>\ <<if $Imre>>\ “I thought you would be angry,” he says. <<if $Worth > 3>>\ You snort. “About what? The fact that this night has been a disaster or the fact that the reason it’s a disaster is because of you?” You feel him look at you. “How did you come to that strange conclusion?” You feel a shot of anger flood through you. You turn to look at him, “oh, I don’t know, Imre. Maybe I dreamt the fact that you told me you knew what James was going to do and let it happen anyway to fucking test me. Maybe I just misheard you.” <<if $ImreRF > 6 || $ImreRA > 6>>\ Imre looks as if he wants to smile and you know if he does you’ll hit him. Instead of smiling he looks down at his hands, “that did dampen things, did it not? A… miscalculation on my part.” You raise an eyebrow, “what the hell does that mean?” He runs his hand through his hair, his fingers start tapping much more insistently. Your eyes widen. “Are you ok?” “I don’t know how to say it,” Imre says, “I’m not used to these particular words in this particular order.” You prop yourself on your elbow and ask, “are you… trying to apologize to me?” Imre jaw clenches, and he seems to glare at his hands. “Is that somehow unbelievable? I’m not a buffon. I understand the reaction I expected was not the one I got and so it is only fair that I excuse myself for hurting your feelings.” You start smirking, “that’s a lot of words to say you’re sorry.” [[NEXT|Page 558]] <<elseif $ImreRF <= 6 && $ImreRA <= 6>>\ Imre looks as if he wants to smile and you know if he does you’ll hit him. Instead of smiling he looks down at his hands, “that did dampen things, did it not?” You roll your eyes and turn over. Is there something going on here? Yes. It’d be stupid to deny it. But if he can’t say he’s sorry then you don’t want to play his game — at least not today. <<set $noball to true>> He doesn’t speak any longer. Although you somehow can feel his eyes on your back long after you’ve both stopped talking. As your eyes flutter to sleep you think you hear him say something. [[NEXT|Page 563]] <<elseif $Worth > $Worthless && $Worth >= 2 && $Worth <= 5>>\ You snort. “About what? The fact that this night has been a disaster or the fact that the reason it’s a disaster is because of you?” <<set $Worthmid to true>> You feel him look at you. “How did you come to that strange conclusion?” You feel a shot of anger flood through you. You turn to look at him, “oh, I don’t know, Imre. Maybe I dreamt the fact that you told me you knew what James was going to do and let it happen anyway to fucking test me. Maybe I just misheard you.” <<if $ImreRF > 6 || $ImreRA > 6>>\ Imre looks as if he wants to smile and you know if he does you’ll hit him. Instead of smiling he looks down at his hands, “that did dampen things, did it not? A… miscalculation on my part.” You raise an eyebrow, “what the hell does that mean?” He runs his hand through his hair, his fingers start tapping much more insistently. Your eyes widen. “Are you ok?” “I don’t know how to say it,” Imre says, “I’m not used to these particular words in this particular order.” You prop yourself on your elbow and ask, “are you… trying to apologize to me?” Imre jaw clenches, and he seems to glare at his hands. “Is that somehow unbelievable? I’m not a buffon. I understand the reaction I expected was not the one I got and so it is only fair that I excuse myself for hurting your feelings.” You start smirking, “that’s a lot of words to say you’re sorry.” [[NEXT|Page 558]] <<elseif $ImreRF <= 6 && $ImreRA <= 6>>\ Imre looks as if he wants to smile and you know if he does you’ll hit him. Instead of smiling he looks down at his hands, “that did dampen things, did it not?” You roll your eyes and turn over. Is there something going on here? Yes. It’d be stupid to deny it. But if he can’t say he’s sorry then you don’t want to play his game — at least not today. <<set $noball to true>> He doesn’t speak any longer. Although you somehow can feel his eyes on your back long after you’ve both stopped talking. As your eyes flutter to sleep you think you hear him say something. [[NEXT|Page 563]] <</if>> <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You’re silent for a moment. You don’t feel brave enough to say what you want to say to him. It’s him versus you, and he’s so much and you’re too little. How could you confront him? It’s not your place. “I kind of forgot about everything with the James stuff,” you lie. You feel him look at you. “Is that so?” You feel squeamish under his gaze. You can’t even look at him, “yeah.” Imre laughs softly. “You’re not very good at that, I’m afraid.” You raise an eyebrow, “at what?” He rolls around, laying on his side. “Lying. You're rather… subpar at it.” You bite your lip and stare intently at the ceiling. You know how he can read your face and you really don’t want to look him in the eyes. Pathetic, you know. But he’s just so imposing. He could get you to spill your guts and you don’t want to start a fight with him because he would win. [[NEXT|Page 558]] <<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>>\ You’re silent for a moment. You don’t feel brave enough to say what you want to say to him. It’s him versus you, and he’s so much and you’re too little. How could you confront him? It’s not your place. “I kind of forgot about everything with the James stuff,” you lie. <<set $Worthlessmid to true>> You feel him look at you. “Is that so?” You feel squeamish under his gaze. You can’t even look at him, “yeah.” Imre laughs softly. “You’re not very good at that, I’m afraid.” You raise an eyebrow, “at what?” He rolls around, laying on his side. “Lying. You're rather… subpar at it.” You bite your lip and stare intently at the ceiling. You know how he can read your face and you really don’t want to look him in the eyes. Pathetic, you know. But he’s just so imposing. He could get you to spill your guts and you don’t want to start a fight with him because he would win. [[NEXT|Page 558]] <<elseif $Nia>>\ “I would think you would prefer to be with Nia,” Imre comments. You blink, “why would you think that?” Imre chuckles, “I’m not so blind and you are not so subtle with your clear attraction to each other.” You start chewing on your lip. You don’t even know what you have with Nia. Not yet. “I think it would be better if I had this conversation with her,” you say. “Will you?” You turn to look at him, “why do you care?” He shrugs, “Nia is my best friend and I adore her. I wouldn’t want her to be hurt.” “And you think I could hurt her?” you point to yourself. <<if $tname>>\ Imre’s smile lessens, but not entirely. The smile changes to something that makes the air around you seem colder. “I like to think we’re good friends now, $tname. But I care for Nia greatly.” <<else>>\ Imre’s smile lessens, but not entirely. The smile changes to something that makes the air around you seem colder. “I like to think we’re good friends now, $name. But I care for Nia greatly.” <</if>> [[NEXT|558-IMRENIA]] <<elseif $Lorcan>>\ “For whatever reason, you seem to prefer Lorcan's presence,” Imre states. You look down at your hands, “who told you that?” Imre chuckles, “I’m not so blind. That hatred you profess to have is too passionate to be just loathing.” You start chewing on your lip. You don’t even know what the hell you should say. There’s not even a ‘you and Lorcan’ there’s just you —a huge abyss— and then Lorcan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I wouldn’t expect you to admit it so freely.” You turn to look at him, “why do you care? Don’t you hate him?” He shrugs, “I never hated him. I had an issue with tolerating him but I realized it’s easier to have him around if you ignore him.” “You know he can be pretty interesting,” you reply, slight annoyance in your expression. Imre smiles obnoxiously. Your hand balls into a fist. “It does not help your case that you run to defend him.” [[NEXT|Page 558-IMRELORC]] <<elseif $ImreP>>\ “Well did not end things on the best of notes,” he states. With all that had gone on in the last several hours it slipped your mind that Imre had confessed to you that he knew what James was going to do and let it happen. <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “Do you treat all your friends like trash or am I special?” you ask. Imre runs a hand through his hair. “I try to treat the people that I can for much better than the people that I don’t.” You scoff, “well shit. If you treat me that badly when I’m your friend I don’t wanna be your enemy.” “No, you wouldn’t,” he says. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You didn’t think he would bring it up. You had hoped he wouldn’t. Imre runs a hand through his hair. “I always strive to treat the people that I can for much better than the people that I don’t.” //You aren’t doing a good job//, you wish you could say. “I might’ve overestimated your strength,” he states. You smile at that, that’s pretty naive of him. Doesn’t he see how weak you are? How one word can make you crumble? <<elseif $Worth > $Worthless && $Worth >= 2 && $Worth <= 5>>\ “Do you treat all your friends like trash or am I special?” you ask. Imre runs a hand through his hair. “I try to treat the people that I can for much better than the people that I don’t.” <<set $Worthmid to true>> You scoff, “well shit. If you treat me that badly when I’m your friend I don’t wanna be your enemy.” “No, you wouldn’t,” he says. <<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>>\ You didn’t think he would bring it up. You had hoped he wouldn’t. Imre runs a hand through his hair. “I always strive to treat the people that I can for much better than the people that I don’t.” <<set $Worthlessmid to true>> //You aren’t doing a good job//, you wish you could say. “I might’ve overestimated your strength,” he states. You smile at that, that’s pretty naive of him. Doesn’t he see how weak you are? How one word can make you crumble? <</if>> You prop yourself up on your elbow, “so… are you going to apologize?” “You want an apology?” he asks. Your eyes widen at his seemingly genuine confusion. [[NEXT|Page 558-IMRPLA]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Imre and $Worth > 3 && ($ImreRF > 6 || $ImreRA > 6)>>\ Imre seems to find apologizing exceedingly irritating. “Is that your revenge? Trying to shame me? I assure you it won’t work.” “So I can’t even enjoy seeing you uncomfortable? It’s the least you can do after the shit you pulled because it was really fucking bad,” you retort irately and lay back down. Now you’re pissed off. Imre sighs and you feel your heart thump as his hand lays over yours. You think about slapping it away but he starts gripping it, already knowing how you would react even before you do. Does he know you so well already? “I’m not good at this. I have never had to do it,” he explains. “I still don’t hear an ‘I’m sorry,’” you reply, annoyed. He brings his fingers to your chin and gently moves your face, and you want to act like a child. You want to refuse and pout. But you meet his blue eyes and see such a show of sincerity that pushes any thought of denial away from you. <<if $tname>> He looks down at your lips and his words ghost over your mouth. “I am truly sorry, $tname,” he says softly. <<else>> He looks down at your lips and his words ghost over your mouth. “I am truly sorry, $name,” he says softly. <</if>>\ And his words sound so sweet, so poignant and true. It would be so easy to believe him, wouldn’t it? How good of an actor can he be? How many girls/boys/people has he given the same eyes to? Can you believe you’re that special? You grit your teeth. Stop it. No more self-doubt. You’re not less than other people. You’re deserving of an apology and recognition of your feelings. He looks at you expectantly. <hr>\ * [[♥ “I forgive you.”|Page 559][$forgivei to true]] * [[♥ “I want to.”|Page 559][$forgivem to true]] * [[♡ “I don’t forgive you.”|Page 559][$notforg to true]] * [[♡ “Fuck it, fine.”|Page 559][$forgives to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ “Sorry,” you say. He laughs, “what is it that you’re apologizing for?” You shake your head, “I don’t know. Just ignore anything I say. I’m being stupid.” “That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself,” he replies. You press your lips together. He doesn’t understand. He’s perfect. You almost flinch when you feel his hand atop yours. He gently runs his thumb along yours as he says, “I do think you should get better at duplicity but never with me. I never want you to lie to me, understood?” <hr>\ * [[♥ “Understood.”|Page 559][$lowu to true]] * [[♥ You nod.|Page 559][$nodu to true]] * [[♡ “You’re not the best influence.”|Page 559][$infu to true]] * [[♡ “I feel like you want me to call you sir.”|Page 559][$joku to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $forgivei>>\ You roll your lips and make him wait for a moment before replying, “I forgive you.” He searches your face, to see any hint of deceit and his expression turns into something akin to stupefied. Although he always keeps a tight control of any emotions that could make it seem he’s been surprised. His blue eyes squint and the smile on his lips presses into a frown. “What?” you ask. “Didn’t expect that?” <<set $ImreRF += 2>> “No,” he says simply. “Not at all.” You observe each other and by looking at the tightness of his neck and cheeks you can tell he isn’t exactly happy you did this. Why? Isn’t this the best outcome for him? “Is everything ok?” Imre blinks and wipes away the discontent from his face. His smile breaks open, “perfectly fine. You are a very forgiving person.” Now you’re more confused. “Wh–” [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $forgivem>>\ You roll your lips and make him wait for a moment before replying, “I want to.” He nods, “you want to? That means, as of this moment you haven’t forgiven me.” You nod. You feel like you want to look away from him, his blue gaze is so intense and all-consuming. Sometimes it feels as if he can hear all your thoughts. Imre hums and says, “I expected as much. It would be rather foolish if you forgave me so easily.” You give him a surprised look. “Most people would prefer to be forgiven fast so they can get over this awkward phase.” Imre scoffs, “that’s ridiculous. There should not be discomfort on the journey to forgiveness. As it was easy for me to harm you, it should be bearable for me to wait until you feel that you’ve forgiven me.” Hr gives you a quick smile. You get the feeling that this isn’t the reaction he wants but that he’s willing to try and earn your forgiveness. “I’m not the type to hold grudges.” <<set $ImreRF += 2>> “You would be better suited to,” he replies with a soft, sincere voice. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $notforg>>\ You snort, “I don’t forgive you.” Imre lifts his head up slightly to peer down at you, “is that so? May I know why?” You raise up to meet him, “because you can’t just say you’re sorry and expect to get it. That’s not how that works, Imre. Maybe you don't know that because you’ve never done this before but what you did made it so once again I was publicly humiliated by an asshole.” Imre sighs, “that wasn’t the intention.” <<set $ImreRA += 2>> You lift up a hand, “yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. You wanted me to be stronger and all that jazz. But I don’t give a shit. That’s not how things work with me and probably other people. I don’t know what fucked up shit your dad–” A look from Imre makes you stop. You tsk and speak, “I’m just saying that I didn’t like it and that’s why I can’t forgive you.” Imre considers your words for a moment. “Alright. From your point of view I can see this action seems just. I will not grovel but I do think it’s admirable that you stick to your convictions. Forgiveness should be treated as a rare finite gift.” He smiles at you and you can’t tell if he means it or not. But you feel your lips threatening to burst into a smile. You bite down on your tongue to prevent it. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $forgives>>\ You throw up your hands, “fuck it. Fine!” A corner of Imre’s lip upturns, “I didn’t think you’d be so enthusiastic.” You glare at him. “You got your damn forgiveness. Don’t look my gift horse in the mouth.” <<set $ImreRA += 2>> Imre snorts, “you seem rather angry that you forgave me. I would’ve preferred it said with a smile then whatever expression of contempt you currently have for me.” You narrow your eyes and say, “being a begging chooser is going to have your forgiveness revoked, dick.” Imre raises up a hand, “calm down. I was merely joking. It’s fine that you choose to forgive me with anger. It tells me that you have held a grudge but realize that you need me. It’s impressively practical.” You raise an eyebrow. Does he really think you’re doing this because of practicality? You shake your head in disbelief. “Not everyone is like you.” Imre smiles softly at you while you continue glaring at him. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $lowu>>\ Imre smiles softly, “you’re quite obedient.” <<set $ImreRF += 2>> You smile sheepishly. “Normally that would bore me but with you… I find it enjoyable,” he admits. That fills you with joy. You made him happy. You didn’t think your nothingness would be attractive to someone like him. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $nodu>>\ Imre smiles softly, “you don’t even speak. Your own voice matters little to you, doesn’t it?” <<set $ImreRF += 2>> You look down sheepishly. He lifts up your face with a finger to your chin. “Normally that would bore me but with you… I find it enjoyable,” he admits. That fills you with joy. You made him happy. You didn’t think your nothingness would be attractive to someone like him. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $infu>>\ “Many would disagree with that assessment,” he replies.<<set $ImreRA += 2>> You feel a bit too bold having said that to him. He might get annoyed and move away from you. “Sorry. I was kind of joking,” you say with shame. “It’s alright. You’re free to say whatever you need with me,” he affirms. As if. You could never have the balls to say half of what you think to him. You can’t even tell him that him using you makes you sad. [[NEXT|Page 560]] <<elseif $joku>>\ Imre smirks, “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”<<set $ImreRA += 2>> You snort and jokingly push him, not too far though, you like his warmth. “You just want a servant.” Imre pulls you closer once more and cups your cheek, eyeing you with a sort of arousal that makes your groin ache. “If they looked like you I wouldn’t mind.” [[NEXT|Page 560]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Worth > 3>>\ His fingers move up your chin and delicately touch your bottom lip. He pulls it down steadily. “Imre,” you whisper. He moves closer, and your stomach squirms as you feel his warm muscles press against yours. He slots his thigh in between your legs and your skin flares up. You can feel your heart in your mouth. “Imre what—” “Shhh,” he says in a deeply low tone that has your stomach feeling queasy. With open eyes you see him move closer, and before you can form a thought you feel him press a kiss against your bottom lip. He sucks at your skin slowly, as if he’s savouring the taste. Your eyes flutter. You don’t even remember what the hell you were talking about. Your head feels hazy as he moves up, his other hand sliding up your side and grasping your shoulder. He pulls you to him, throwing his arm around your back, cocooning you within his warm embrace. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“What’s with the blackmail?”|Page 561-1]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] <<else>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] * == “What’s with the blackmail?” == <</if>>\ <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ His fingers move up your chin and delicately touch your bottom lip. He pulls it down steadily. “Imre,” you whisper. He moves closer, and your stomach squirms as you feel his warm muscles press against yours. He slots his thigh in between your legs and your skin flares up. You can feel your heart in your mouth. “Imre what—” “Shhh,” he says in a deeply low tone that has your stomach feeling queasy. With open eyes you see him move closer, and before you can form a thought you feel him press a kiss against your bottom lip. He sucks at your skin slowly, as if he’s savouring the taste. Your eyes flutter. You don’t even remember what the hell you were talking about. Your head feels hazy as he moves up, his other hand sliding up your side and grasping your shoulder. He pulls you to him, throwing his arm around your back, cocooning you within his warm embrace. <hr>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“Does Nia like you more than she likes me?”|Page 561-OFF]] * [[“Are you ok?”|Page 561-2]] <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ His fingers move up your chin and delicately touch your bottom lip. He pulls it down steadily. “Imre,” you whisper. He moves closer, and your stomach squirms as you feel his warm muscles press against yours. He slots his thigh in between your legs and your skin flares up. You can feel your heart in your mouth. “Imre what—” “Shhh,” he says in a deeply low tone that has your stomach feeling queasy. With open eyes you see him move closer, and before you can form a thought you feel him press a kiss against your bottom lip. He sucks at your skin slowly, as if he’s savouring the taste. Your eyes flutter. You don’t even remember what the hell you were talking about. Your head feels hazy as he moves up, his other hand sliding up your side and grasping your shoulder. He pulls you to him, throwing his arm around your back, cocooning you within his warm embrace. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“What’s with the blackmail?”|Page 561-1]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] <<else>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] * == “What’s with the blackmail?” == <</if>>\ <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <</if>>\ <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ His fingers move up your chin and delicately touch your bottom lip. He pulls it down steadily. “Imre,” you whisper. He moves closer, and your stomach squirms as you feel his warm muscles press against yours. He slots his thigh in between your legs and your skin flares up. You can feel your heart in your mouth. “Imre what—” “Shhh,” he says in a deeply low tone that has your stomach feeling queasy. With open eyes you see him move closer, and before you can form a thought you feel him press a kiss against your bottom lip. He sucks at your skin slowly, as if he’s savouring the taste. Your eyes flutter. You don’t even remember what the hell you were talking about. Your head feels hazy as he moves up, his other hand sliding up your side and grasping your shoulder. He pulls you to him, throwing his arm around your back, cocooning you within his warm embrace. <hr>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“Does Nia like you more than she likes me?”|Page 561-OFF]] * [[“Are you ok?”|Page 561-2]] <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>He stops himself from kissing you. “Come again?” Your breath mingles with his. “What is all this? What we’re doing? Why me out of everyone else?” Imre presses you closer and places a kiss on your chin, “why not? Am I not allowed to be attracted to you?” <<if $MC is 'cis female.'>>\ You sigh, “it’s just weird.” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice. “You have a pleasant face, and you’re involved in a topic I like, the supernatural. I feel a kinship between us. Is that not enough to warrant my attention?” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “I guess,” you acquiesce. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You don’t think so. But you feel as if he would be mad at you if you said so. You nod. <<else>>\ You hum noncommittally. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “I guess,” you acquiesce. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You don’t think so. But you feel as if he would be mad at you if you said so. You nod. <</if>> <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.'>>\ You sigh, “I’m a guy. You’re a guy. Won’t people talk?” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice, “of course they will. Although, I think in this town it will matter more to them that it’s you, not just any man.” “I didn’t know I could like guys,” you admit. Imre caresses your hair, “it’s a common sentiment. The world is rather oppressive and uniform.” You nod. “I’ve never seen it myself. But I’ve heard.” Imre seems to be distracted by your lips. Well it seems you won’t be able to fall down into a potential spiral of sexuality. That might be a good thing. <<elseif $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ You sigh, “I’m a guy. You’re a guy. Won’t people talk? Don’t you care that you didn’t know I was always a guy?” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice, “I find that your gender is the least interesting thing about you and of course people will talk. Although, I think in this town it will matter more to them that it’s you, not just any man who was publicly a girl.” “I didn’t know I could like other guys,” you admit. Imre caresses your hair, “it’s a common sentiment. The world is rather oppressive and uniform.” You nod. “I’ve never seen it myself. But I’ve heard.” Imre seems to be distracted by your lips. Well it seems you won’t be able to fall down into a potential spiral of sexuality. That might be a good thing. <<elseif $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ You sigh, “won’t people talk? Don’t you care that you didn’t know I was always a girl?” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice, “I find that your gender is the least interesting thing about you and of course people will talk. Although, I think in this town it will matter more to them that it’s you, not just any girl who was publicly a boy.” “I don’t know much about how this works,” you admit. “Would people think it’s gay?” Imre caresses your hair, “people are generally clueless and immersed in stupidity. The world is rather oppressive and uniform.” You nod. “I’ve never seen it myself. But I’ve heard.” Imre seems to be distracted by your lips. Well it seems you won’t be able to fall down into a potential spiral of sexuality. That might be a good thing. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.'>>\ You sigh, “it’s just weird.” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice. “You have a pleasant face, and you’re involved in a topic I like, the supernatural. I feel a kinship between us. Is that not enough to warrant my attention?” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “I guess,” you acquiesce. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You don’t think so. But you feel as if he would be mad at you if you said so. You nod. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “I guess,” you acquiesce. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You don’t think so. But you feel as if he would be mad at you if you said so. You nod. <<else>>\ You don’t know what to say to that. <</if>>\ Another reason why he could not like you is because you have refused to be seen as a girl any longer. But you still publicly look like one, you guess it makes it easier for him. <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ You sigh, “I look like a guy. You’re a guy. Won’t people talk?” Imre chuckles, you can feel it on your chest. It feels nice, “of course they will. Although, I think in this town it will matter more to them that it’s you, not just any person.” “I didn’t know I could like guys,” you admit. “For so long I thought I was a boy. Now I’m not but I think people would find it less confusing if I was a boy than what I am now.” Imre caresses your hair, “you’re likely right. The world is rather oppressive and uniform.” You nod. “I’ve never seen it myself. But I’ve heard.” Imre seems to be distracted by your lips. Well it seems you won’t be able to fall down into a potential spiral of sexuality. That might be a good thing. <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“What’s with the blackmail?”|Page 561-1]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] <<else>>\ * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] * == “What’s with the blackmail?” == <</if>> <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Imre snorts, “I needed to observe Arthur in a closer setting. I had my doubts about him for a while and I was right.” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “That’s not the damn point. It goes back to the thing with James. You can’t just use me in whatever way you want. I don’t give a shit if you’re used to doing that with everyone else. I’m who I am and I’m not going to be your puppet,” you claim, staring at him straight in the eyes. Imre leans back, a thoughtful look on his face. “I would think you would be grateful that I was right. Us taking advantage of his offer prevented him from retaliating against us in the future.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “UGH!” you groan. “It’s like I’m speaking in Martian! You can’t do that to peop―” you groan in frustation. Imre laughs beside you. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “I’m going to make you pay for that, Duran,” you warn, pressing your knee into his stomach. “I swear.” Imre seems intrigued at the prospect and brings his mouth inches from yours, “I’d love to see that.” <</if>> <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You close your eyes and sigh. He is right. He’s right and you’re wrong. What can you say to defend yourself? To make him see? Nothing. Of course Imre had to be hard with you, otherwise your dumbass self would’ve let Arthur go free. “You’re right,” you say. Imre smiles smugly. “Of course.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>He arches an eyebrow, “a bit tired. Why do you ask?” You run a hand along his upper chest. His skin is so warm underneath your touch. “I’m not asking about that. I’m asking about James.” Imre looks even more confused. “What about James?” <<if $murderer>>\ “I killed him. Don’t you feel anything about that?” you ask, perplexed. Imre gives you a questioning smile, “should I? You acted in self-defence. I accepted it as such. What more is there to think about?” You blink a few times. “So… you’re ok?” Imre nods, “there is nothing to worry me.” If he’s lying he’s making a good show of it because you see nothing on his face that signifies to you that he feels any negative feelings towards what happened. He sees you no differently than before. “And how are you handling that?” he asks pointedly. “Specifically, your feelings towards taking his life with your hands.” “You want a detailed description?” you ask. He smiles then. A smile that is not kind but rather sharp, almost enticing. “Did you like it?” You inhale, “did you like that I killed him?” “Of course,” he answers immediately, “you did what you had to. You protected yourself. It’s something you should be applauded for not condemned.” You stare at him, trying to gauge where he’s going with this. “When you felt his blood running through your fingers… did it feel good?” He leans in as he speaks, running his lips along your jaw, “did it feel intoxicating to see the life drain from his eyes?” His words are husky against your increasing clammy skin. “Imre,” you gasp as he lightly bites you. “I can’t imagine how thrilling it must’ve been to stand over him. To kill someone who had not understood what you are,” he licks where he bit you. He not only doesn’t feel bad but gets excited on the fact that you’re a murderer. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ But he should feel bad. You do. You feel awful. For some reason you know he won’t be able to understand that and it makes you uneasy. You allow him to snuggle closer you closer. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ Well. That’s a relief. You know Imre well enough now to know he wouldn’t condemn you but there was always that little seed of doubt. You smile at him and snuggle closer. <</if>> <<elseif $imrem>>\ “You killed him. Don’t you feel anything about that?” you ask, perplexed. Imre gives you a questioning smile, “should I? I did it to save your life. I didn’t commit murder for the sake of it. What more is there to think about?” You blink a few times. “So… you’re ok?” Imre nods, “there is nothing to worry me.” If he’s lying he’s making a good show of it because you see nothing on his face that signifies to you that he feels any negative feelings towards what happened. He seems to be completely fine. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ But he should feel bad. You do. You feel awful. For some reason you know he won’t be able to understand that and it makes you uneasy. You allow him to snuggle closer you closer. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ Well. That’s a relief. You know Imre well enough now to know you wouldn’t have to play the complacent caring nurse but there was always a seed of doubt. You smile at him and snuggle closer. <</if>> <<else>>\ “James was killed. Don’t you feel anything about that?” you ask, perplexed. Imre gives you a questioning smile, “should I? He instigated it. I accepted it as such. What more is there to think about?” You blink a few times. “So… you’re ok?” Imre nods, “there is nothing to worry me.” If he’s lying he’s making a good show of it because you see nothing on his face that signifies to you that he feels any negative feelings towards what happened. It is like you’re discussing his favourite breakfast cereal instead of death. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ But he should feel bad. You do. You feel awful. For some reason you know he won’t be able to understand that and it makes you uneasy. You allow him to snuggle closer you closer. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ Well. That’s a relief. You know Imre well enough now to know he wouldn’t condemn you but there was always that little seed of doubt. You smile at him and snuggle closer. <</if>> <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“What’s with the blackmail?”|Page 561-1]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] <<else>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“Nia is my best friend.”|Page 561-3]] * == “What’s with the blackmail?” == <</if>>\ <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“Yes,” he replies. “Are we stating obvious facts?” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “But you and her are really close, huh?” you venture to ask. He assents, “as close as I can be with anyone. It seems our friendship is stronger than the tests we’ve gone through.” You feel a twinge of anger. She was your best friend. He took her from you. She has all his attention. “Why do you ask?” You try to seem nonchalant. “It’s just… she was my best friend and we’re working on trying to get that back so…” Imre looks amused as he says, “are you worried I’ve taken her from you?” You press your lips into a thin line. Now you feel childish. “All I’m saying is that I was there first.” “Can she not have two best friends?” he asks. You roll your eyes, “I don’t know if someone can have two best friends. Not really. They’ll always like one more than the other.” “You underestimate Nia’s capacity for love,” he says simply. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ “I mean, you two have spent years being super close,” you say quietly. He furrows his brow, “we have. But I don’t need to lower her position in my life to raise yours and vice versa.” You feel like his words are meaningless. Who would choose Nia over you? She’s beautiful, popular, rich and cooler than you could ever be. He definitely likes her more than you. “But if you had to choose—” “That will never happen and it does you no good to dwell on that scenario,” he says confidently and rather sternly. You press your lips into a thin line. Now you feel childish. “It could happen.” “The probability is so slight I would not wager on it,” he replies. “You underestimate how much a human being can love multiple people. You should believe it because I, out of all people, am saying this.” <<else>>\ “I don’t even know why I said that,” you rub your eyes, “just forget it.” Imre looks amused as he says, “are you worried I’ve taken her from you?” You groan. “Please forget I said anything.” You hear him laugh, but he doesn’t mortify you any longer. <</if>> <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“What’s with the blackmail?”|Page 561-1]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] <<else>>\ * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“How are you feeling?”|Page 561-2]] * == “What’s with the blackmail?” == <</if>>\ <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\

<h3><<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ He presses his lips to yours, coaxing open your mouth with his tongue. You try to keep up as he flicks your tongue. You’re getting used to being kissed by him. His scent always overwhelms you. You wonder how one person can invade you so much. When you kiss like this — it seems there’s no end to him. Your hands explore areas of him underneath the blanket. His taut stomach muscles, the little hairs that trail down past the waistband of his boxer shorts. He rolls over to be on top of you, grasping your leg and throwing it around his waist. He messages your tongue and pinches your nipple so that you moan into his mouth. He lets go of your wet lips and slides his hot feverish kisses down your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin. Just when you think he’s about to go lower, he slides back up and presses another kiss to your lips. You keep kissing, running each of your hands along his back. But it doesn’t go further than that. For some reason he seems to be holding back. Eventually your mouth starts going slack and you end up yawning into a kiss. Imre laughs and lays back down on the mattress. He throws an arm around your hips and you stare into his eyes as you fall asleep. <<elseif $sleepimre>>\ You yawn and Imre throws an arm around your waist. Bringing you closer. You stare into his eyes as you fall asleep. <<elseif $imrereject>>\ Eventually, without knowing how or when you feel your close droop. <<else>>\ Eventually, without knowing how or when you feel your close droop. The last you see of Imre is him continuing to stare up at the ceiling. <</if>>\ <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You don’t know how long you sleep for, but at a certain point of time you roll over to the other side of the bed and feel a cold space where a body was. Your eyes open gingerly to see your hand flat on the mattress. You prop yourself up and look around. The sky is lighter outside but from the clock on the wall you calculate you only slept for a little under an hour. You get up and walk around the house. You don’t know why you’re looking for Imre. Maybe it’s because you think he might need help. Perhaps Arthur woke up and Imre is trying to deal with him. You can’t miss that. So you head to the door to the basement but you hear a car door slam. You immediately go to the window and see Imre walking back to the house from Arthur’s car. You look down at his hands because otherwise why would he be out there? Deduction concludes he must be looking for something, something that he couldn’t sleep without getting. Something he might’ve not wanted you to see. You see something tucked into the crook of his arm but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Pages perhaps? But why would— Imre starts coming up the stairs and you dash to the bed, slipping under the covers just in time for him to open the front door. You close your eyes and try to lessen your breathing for REM sleep. You hear his footsteps disappearing further into the house. He moves around somewhere and then comes back to the living room. He stops for a moment near your head. Even though you can’t see him you know he’s looking at you. You know because you would do the same. It likely lasts a few seconds — his staring — but it feels vastly longer before he lays back down. <<$Imre>>\ He lays close and puts a hand on your stomach. You don’t dare open your eyes. But your mind races. Were those pages? What pages? <<else>>\ You don’t dare open your eyes. But your mind races. Were those pages? What pages? <</if>> <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 563]] </h3>

<h3>“I mean, you two have spent years being super close,” you say quietly. He furrows his brow, “we have. But I don’t need to lower her position in my life to raise yours and vice versa.” You feel like his words are meaningless. Who would choose Nia over you? She’s beautiful, popular, rich and cooler than you could ever be. He definitely likes her more than you. “But if you had to choose—” “That will never happen and it does you no good to dwell on that scenario,” he says confidently and rather sternly. You press your lips into a thin line. Now you feel childish. “It could happen.” “The probability is so slight I would not wager on it,” he replies. “You underestimate how much a human being can love multiple people. You should believe it because I, out of all people, am saying this.” <hr> * [[“Why do you want me?”|Page 561]] * [[“Are you ok?”|Page 561-2]] <<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ * [[Shut up and kiss him|Page 562][$kissimre to true]] <<else>>\ * [[Go to sleep|Page 562][$sleepimre to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $imrebunk>>\ You sleep right past midday which isn’t unsurprisingly given how you were running on empty and how late you slept. Your head throbs when you sit yourself up. You put a hand to your forehead and rub it, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. You hear voices on the other side of the room. “Don’t be shy now, I have plenty,” Grandma Stark says. “Gran, you ain’t feeding a small army,” Lorcan replies. “I might as well be feeding one, this stripping young man needs to eat some protein to keep up those muscles,” she replies. “Nia, you told me you were a swimmer, right? Well what better way to get some energy after such a long night than a big breakfast!” “It’s way past breakfast and why aren’t you ever that nice when it’s just me?” Lorcan asks. “‘Cause you oversleep,” she responds. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Too loudly because you hear Grandma Stark say, “oh she’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Too loudly because you hear Grandma Stark say, “oh he’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Too loudly because you hear Grandma Stark say, “oh they’re awake!” <</if>>\ Imre walks over to you and bends down to eye-level. He hands you a cup of orange juice. You take it from him and sip as he speaks, “we’ve been awake for nearly an hour. I thought of waking you but I felt with how tumultuous you were as you slept that you needed more time.” You swallow, “tumultuous?” He smiles empathetically, “you were moving. It seemed to me that you were having a nightmare.” You take another sip before responding. “I don’t remember any of that.” <<elseif $niabunk>>\ You sleep right past midday which isn’t unsurprisingly given how you were running on empty and how late you slept. Your head throbs when you sit yourself up. You put a hand to your forehead and rub it, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. You hear voices coming from somewhere in the house. “Don’t be shy now, I have plenty,” Grandma Stark says, her muffled voice carries over the thin walls. Lorcan replies, but you can’t make out his words. “I might as well be feeding one, this stripping young man needs to eat some protein to keep up those muscles,” she replies. “Nia, you told me you were a swimmer, right? Well what better way to get some energy after such a long night than a big breakfast!” “It’s way past breakfast and why aren’t you ever that nice when it’s just me?” Lorcan asks. “‘Cause you oversleep,” she responds. You groan and the mattress groans with you as you stand up and leave the room. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh she’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh he’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh they’re awake!” <</if>>\ Nia gives you an appraising look that doesn’t bode given how she quickly looks away. You must look like microwaved shit for that reaction and you feel like it too. “Lorcan, move,” Nia instructs as you come to the table. “Why?” Lorcan asks with his mouth stuffed. “Because Birdie needs to sit,” Nia informs. Lorcan gestures to the seat on the other end of the table from Nia, “there’s fine.” Nia icily replies, “I don’t want Birdie to sit there. I want Birdie to sit here.” There’s a stool cramped between Nia and Lorcan. Lorcan rolls his eyes but scoots over. Nia pulls out the chair for you and you sit. She hands you a plate and some utensils. <<elseif $lorcanbunk>>\ You sleep right past midday which isn’t unsurprisingly given how you were running on empty and how late you slept. Your head throbs when you sit yourself up. You put a hand to your forehead and rub it, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. You hear voices coming from somewhere in the house. “Don’t be shy now, I have plenty,” Grandma Stark says. “Gran, you ain’t feeding a small army,” Lorcan replies. “I might as well be feeding one, this stripping young man needs to eat some protein to keep up those muscles,” she replies. “Nia, you told me you were a swimmer, right? Well what better way to get some energy after such a long night than a big breakfast!” “It’s way past breakfast and why aren’t you ever that nice when it’s just me?” Lorcan asks. “‘Cause you oversleep,” she responds. You groan and the mattress groans with you. You step on a few cans that threaten to topple you but miraculously you end up leaving the room. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh she’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh he’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh they’re awake!” <</if>>\ Lorcan immediately looks up from his cereal. His expression becomes, dare you say, nearly elated. Grandma Stark notices her grandson’s expression and she shoots you a conspiratorial smile. <<if $Lorcan>>\ You bite your cheek from smiling back. <<else>>\ Oh, God, you hope she doesn’t think you’re a thing. <</if>>\ When you offer him a smile, Lorcan blinks and seems to remember where he is. His smile drops and he shovels a big spoon of sugary cereal into his mouth, staring down at the pool as if it’s the most fascinating thing ever. “Sit here, hun,” Grandma Stark offers the chair that’s conveniently next to Lorcan. Lorcan swirls his spoon around the bowl as you sit down next to him. “Morning,” you say to him. “Morning,” he replies stiffly. He puts more food into his mouth and your friendly mood disappears as he sullenly looks at his food. Clearly, the time for honest and lively conversation is over. <<elseif $lorcanbunk && $kickedoutlorcan>>\ You sleep right past midday which isn’t unsurprisingly given how you were running on empty and how late you slept. Your head throbs when you sit yourself up. You put a hand to your forehead and rub it, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. You hear voices coming from somewhere in the house. “Don’t be shy now, I have plenty,” Grandma Stark says. “Gran, you ain’t feeding a small army,” Lorcan replies. “I might as well be feeding one, this stripping young man needs to eat some protein to keep up those muscles,” she replies. “Nia, you told me you were a swimmer, right? Well what better way to get some energy after such a long night than a big breakfast!” “It’s way past breakfast and why aren’t you ever that nice when it’s just me?” Lorcan asks. “‘Cause you oversleep,” she responds. You groan your best aching from the hard couch. You rub your tense neck and walk to the kitchen table. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh she’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh he’s awake!” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ You stretch your brittle bones over your head, yawning loudly. Grandma Stark sees you and exclaims, “oh they’re awake!” <</if>>\ Lorcan doesn’t look up from his head while you stare daggers at him. You scoot your chair as far away from him as the table allows. “Hun, that couch is terrible. Why didn’t you bunk with any of the others?” Grandma Stark asks. You stare coldly at Lorcan as you reply, “not everyone is as hospitable as you, Ma’am.” Grandma Stark catches your implication and swats Lorcan on the arm. “Ow!” he says and holds up his hands in defence. “The bed is too small anyway!” “What did I tell you about being a good host?” she chastises, shaking her head and going to the counter to pick up more eggs for the table. Lorcan narrows his eyes at you as if it was your fault he’s a dick. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 564]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Worth > 3>>\ “It’s not as if I fucking don’t,” you respond angrily. “I care about her! I’m not the one who created this schism between us. I want it to get better but I don’t know what the hell is up with her!” Imre presses a finger to his lips, “alright. I believe you, please calm down.” <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ “I do too. I would never hurt her,” you promise. “I don’t care if she left me. I don’t care if it hurt. All I want is her. I would do anything,” you stress, “anything to get her to be with me again. If I have to apologise to her for being me then I will!” Imre presses a finger to his lips, “alright. I believe you, please calm down.” You let out a breath. You didn’t realize how this whole pseudo-relationship with her had been bothering you. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “It’s not as if I fucking don’t,” you respond angrily. “I care about her! I’m not the one who created this schism between us. I want it to get better but I don’t know what the hell is up with her!” Imre presses a finger to his lips, “alright. I believe you, please calm down.” <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ “I do too. I would never hurt her,” you promise. “I don’t care if she left me. I don’t care if it hurt. All I want is her. I would do anything,” you stress, “anything to get her to be with me again. If I have to apologise to her for being me then I will!” Imre presses a finger to his lips, “alright. I believe you, please calm down.” You let out a breath. You didn’t realize how this whole pseudo-relationship with her had been bothering you. <</if>> “Can we talk about something else?” you ask. Imre assents, “what would you like to talk about?” <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Imre’s blackmail|Page 559-BLACKMPLA]] * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<else>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“So… James’ is dead,” you start. Imre doesn’t react so you say, “how are you handling that.” He shrugs, “as well as I can. It was a necessary action.” Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s all you have to say?” He looks at you, “what else could I possibly say?” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “That you feel bad that someone died?” you say incredulously. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Imre smiles, “that would be lying, amiga. If you prefer a lie I can very well tell it.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Imre smiles, “that would be lying, amigo. If you prefer a lie I can very well tell it.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> Imre smiles, “that would be lying, amigo. If you prefer a lie I can very well tell it.” <</if>> You’re flabbergasted. You just close your mouth and look up at the ceiling. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “Well beats me. I know the generic line of ‘I feel bad.’ But I don’t and looks like neither do you,” you state. <<if $pronouns is 'she'>> Imre smiles, “well then. There’s nothing more to talk about in reference to that topic, amiga.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>> Imre smiles, “well then. There’s nothing more to talk about in reference to that topic, amigo.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>> Imre smiles, “well then. There’s nothing more to talk about in reference to that topic, amigo.” <</if>>\ <</if>> <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[Imre’s blackmail|Page 559-BLACKMPLA]] * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<else>>\ * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“Hey, so let’s talk about the fact that you totally screwed me over. Like you couldn’t ask nicely? You had to threaten me with telling someone about James?” you ask, your voice rising. Imre says, “I needed to observe Arthur in a closer setting. I had my doubts about him for a while and I was right.” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “That’s not the damn point. It goes back to the thing with James. You can’t just use me in whatever way you want. I don’t give a shit if you’re used to doing that with everyone else. I’m who I am and I’m not going to be your puppet,” you claim, staring at him straight in the eyes. Imre leans back, a thoughtful look on his face. “I would think you would be grateful that I was right. Us taking advantage of his offer prevented him from retaliating against us in the future.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “UGH!” you groan. “It’s like I’m speaking in Martian! You can’t do that to peop―” you groan in frustation. Imre laughs beside you. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “I’m going to make you pay for that, Duran,” you warn.. “I swear.” Imre seems intrigued at the prospect and replies, “I’d love to see that.” <</if>> <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You close your eyes and sigh. He is right. He’s right and you’re wrong. What can you say to defend yourself? To make him see? Nothing. Of course Imre had to be hard with you, otherwise your dumbass self would’ve let Arthur go free. “You’re right,” you say. Imre smiles smugly. “Of course.” <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “That’s not the damn point. It goes back to the thing with James. You can’t just use me in whatever way you want. I don’t give a shit if you’re used to doing that with everyone else. I’m who I am and I’m not going to be your puppet,” you claim, staring at him straight in the eyes. Imre leans back, a thoughtful look on his face. “I would think you would be grateful that I was right. Us taking advantage of his offer prevented him from retaliating against us in the future.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “UGH!” you groan. “It’s like I’m speaking in Martian! You can’t do that to peop―” you groan in frustation. Imre laughs beside you. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “I’m going to make you pay for that, Duran,” you warn.. “I swear.” Imre seems intrigued at the prospect and replies, “I’d love to see that.” <</if>> <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You close your eyes and sigh. He is right. He’s right and you’re wrong. What can you say to defend yourself? To make him see? Nothing. Of course Imre had to be hard with you, otherwise your dumbass self would’ve let Arthur go free. “You’re right,” you say. Imre smiles smugly. “Of course.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<else>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Jealousy over Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“You and Nia are really close, huh?” you venture to ask. He assents, “as close as I can be with anyone. It seems our friendship is stronger than the tests we’ve gone through.” “Yes,” he replies. “Are we stating obvious facts?” You feel a twinge of anger. She was your best friend. He took her from you. “Why do you ask?” You try to seem nonchalant. “It’s just… she was my best friend and we’re working on trying to get that back so…” Imre looks amused as he says, “are you worried I’ve taken her from you?” You press your lips into a thin line. Now you feel childish. “All I’m saying is that I was there first.” “You and I are friends, are we not?” he asks. You roll your eyes, “I don’t know if someone can have two best friends. Not really. They’ll always like one more than the other.” “You underestimate Nia’s capacity for love,” he says simply. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Imre’s blackmail|Page 559-BLACKMPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<else>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I always wondered… how can you do all the shit you do? The volunteer work, parties, the part-time teen detective, soccer and still be the top of the class?” you ask. “Do you want my tips for time management? I would be happy to give them,” he claims. You shake your head. “My life is constantly unpredictable. I shouldn’t even try to make a schedule. I just wanna know if you ever get free time to do anything you like?” Imre looks at you evenly. “I love playing soccer, investigating paranormal phenomena and schoolwork. These tasks aren’t chores for me.” You raise an eyebrow, “you’re telling me that charity work isn’t a chore for you?” Imre grins, “would you believe me if I told you I enjoy helping the less fortunate?” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ You burst out laughing. “Yeah right!” Imre watches you laugh and he seems pleased. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You don’t but you won’t say it. “Yeah, I could.” Imre eyes you, searching your reaction and then his eyes move away in boredom. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ You burst out laughing. “Yeah right!” Imre watches you laugh and he seems pleased. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You don’t but you won’t say it. “Yeah, I could.” Imre eyes you, searching your reaction and then his eyes move away in boredom. <</if>>\ “Have you ever thought of volunteer work? It could do wonders for your college applications,” he suggests. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You have done volunteer work. Illegal volunteer work. Volunteer work that would make anyone think you’ve gone insane in the outside world. “I prefer less conventional methods,” you answer. <<else>>\ You have never even worked a day in your life, much less worked for free. Your college applications would make anyone reject you with one cursory glance. “I guess,” you agree. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 562]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Worth > 3>>\ “There’s not a case. There’s nothing. I’m not an idiot though, he can be fun to have around when he isn’t being stubborn and broody,” you reply. “And that doesn’t mean I have…” you trail off. “Feelings for him?” Imre prompts. “Shut up,” you say in between gritting teeth. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You bite your tongue. Anything you say can and will be used against you by Imre. You’re used to being made fun of anyway. Hopefully Lorcan won’t ever hear of this conversation and if he does he will think it’s ridiculous anyway. <</if>>\ “Can we talk about something else?” you ask. Imre assents, “what would you like to talk about?” <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Imre’s blackmail|Page 559-BLACKMPLA]] * [[Jealousy over his bond with Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<else>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Jealousy over his bond with Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“Uh, yeah? That’s what friends do when they’ve been an ass. That’s what friends do when they keep wanting to be friends,” you claim. Imre sits up and props himself on his elbow too. “Wouldn’t it seem less genuine if I’m prompted to do it instead of it being a sincere apology?” You roll your eyes and plop down on the mattress, “you’re impossible.” <<if $ImreP > 3>>\ “Quite,” he says cheekily. He lays back down and says, “I do apologize for what I did.” You look at him and you open your mouth to respond— “But I don’t regret it. I saw how you crumbled and picked yourself up,” he explains. “It was what I knew you could do.” Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You’re insane.” “Quite.” <<else>>\ “I’m sorry,” he says with a smile. And that should be enough, should it not? He did what you asked. But there’s something about that smile of his that makes you feel as if he’s done a joke you’re not privy to. You feel as his apology was another form of humillation. But you can’t prove it can you? He knows this, that’s why there’s a cruel glint to the edge of his smile. <</if>>\ For some reason your eyes are no longer willing to shut as they were before. So you talk about… <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten && $ImreP > 3>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Imre’s blackmail|Page 559-BLACKMPLA]] * [[Jealousy over his bond with Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<elseif $imrethreaten == false and $ImreP > 3>>\ * [[James|Page 559-JAMESPLA]] * [[Jealousy over his bond with Nia|Page 559-NIAIMREPLA]] * [[Something non-serious|Page 559-NONSIMRE]] <<elseif $ImreP < 3>>\ * [[Nothing.|Page 559-PLAREJIMRE]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $imrebunk>>\ He looks at you quizzically, “have you always had trouble sleeping?” You nod while you sip. “Can’t really remember a time when I woke up refreshed.” “Have you tried any medication? Somnologists? Keeping a dream journal? Do you think there are triggers to your nightmares?” he asks in quick succession. You’re too languid and disorientated to be interrogated. “No. It’s fine, I can function just fine without good sleep.” Imre looks extremely doubtful of that but chooses to stand up and offer you a hand. You take it and he pulls you up. You follow him to the breakfast table which happens to be overflowing with food. To be fair, the table itself is not so big as to need much plating to be overburdened. “Hello!” Grandma Stark says and holds out a chair for you. “Well you look like you’ve been tumbling in the dryer!” You sit down and she enthusiastically shoves food in your direction. “Take as much as you like, hun. An old bag of bones like me can’t finish all this.” Lorcan shoves a spoonful of soggy cereal in his eyes and explains, “she thinks we’re hungover.” “And there’s no shame in that,” Grandma Stark responds, filling up your nearly full cup of orange juice. “In my twenties, I woke up in so many places I didn’t know. Half naked and with strange men wrapped around me.” Lorcan makes a face of utter displeasure. Out of all the selections in front of you, you pick… <hr>\ * [[Cereal|Page 565][$cereal to true]] * [[Eggs|Page 565][$eggs to true]] * [[Pancakes|Page 565][$pancakes to true]] * [[Muffins|Page 565][$muffins to true]] * [[Bagels|Page 565][$bagels to true]] * [[Coffee|Page 565][$coffeeb to true]] <<elseif $niabunk>>\ “I should charge you for interrupting my sleep,” Nia says. You look at her, “did I move a lot?” She scoffs, “not only did you move but you also made these little noises that made you think you were about to cry from pain.” You raise an eyebrow. “Huh.” Nia chews on a piece of toast and swallows before saying, “I have to learn to get used to them again.” Your eyes widen, “you’ve seen me do this before? Why didn’t you say anything?” She shrugs, “it’s been something you’ve done for years. All our sleepovers had you waking me up far too early because you were thrashing around. Honestly, it used to be scary.” “And?” She sighs, “and I didn’t say anything because I got used to it and I forgot. I thought you knew.” “Did I say anything?” you ask. She shakes her head, “I couldn’t understand what you were ranting about. Sometimes it didn’t sound English.” Before you can ask more, Grandma Stark enthusiastically shoves food in your direction. “Take as much as you like, hun. An old bag of bones like me can’t finish all this.” Lorcan shoves a spoonful of soggy cereal in his eyes and explains, “she thinks we’re hungover.” “And there’s no shame in that,” Grandma Stark responds, filling up your nearly full cup of orange juice. “In my twenties, I woke up in so many places I didn’t know. Half naked and with strange men wrapped around me.” Lorcan makes a face of utter displeasure. Out of all the selections in front of you, you pick… <hr>\ * [[Cereal|Page 565][$cereal to true]] * [[Eggs|Page 565][$eggs to true]] * [[Pancakes|Page 565][$pancakes to true]] * [[Muffins|Page 565][$muffins to true]] * [[Bagels|Page 565][$bagels to true]] * [[Coffee|Page 565][$coffeeb to true]] <<elseif $lorcanbunk>>\ Grandma Stark enthusiastically shoves food in your direction. “Take as much as you like, hun. An old bag of bones like me can’t finish all this.” Lorcan shoves a spoonful of soggy cereal in his eyes and explains, “she thinks we’re hungover.” “And there’s no shame in that,” Grandma Stark responds, filling up your nearly full cup of orange juice. “In my twenties, I woke up in so many places I didn’t know. Half naked and with strange men wrapped around me.” Lorcan makes a face of utter displeasure. Out of all the selections in front of you, you pick… <hr>\ * [[Cereal|Page 565][$cereal to true]] * [[Eggs|Page 565][$eggs to true]] * [[Pancakes|Page 565][$pancakes to true]] * [[Muffins|Page 565][$muffins to true]] * [[Bagels|Page 565][$bagels to true]] * [[Coffee|Page 565][$coffeeb to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3><<if $cereal>>\ Lorcan hands you the cereal box. It’s a generic brand of the more popular corn flakes. “That is not a breakfast,” Grandma Stark says, but she does hand you the milk carton. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <<elseif $eggs>>\ Nia hands you the salt and pepper shakers. You nearly knock over the milk carton but Imre catches it. You take a moment to look at the black and white picture on the side. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <<elseif $pancakes>>\ Imre hands you the plate of pancakes and you nearly topple the milk carton over. You catch it and take a moment to look at the black and white picture on the side. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <<elseif $muffins>>\ Grandma Stark plucks one out of the basket for you and nearly topples over the milk carton trying to plop it on your plate. You quickly grab it and take a moment to look at the black and white picture on the side. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <<elseif $bagels>>\ Lorcan pokes at the small sad-excuse for a bagel. “Gran, this last one is shit.” “Birdie can have mine,” Nia says and with tongs, picks up her uneaten one and hands it over to you. You nearly knock over the milk carton and quickly grasp it. You take a moment to look at the black and white picture on the side. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <<elseif $coffeeb>>\ “Let me,” Imre says and pours some hot coffee from the pot into a mug. “You’ll want milk,” Grandma Stark says and hands it over to you. You take it and look at the black and white picture on the side. Which happens to have the picture of one of last weeks’ victims. Maybe it’s because you don’t drink milk that much that you hadn’t realized some families are now doing this. After decades of silence, are people finally getting sick of it? <</if>>\ “Oh, dear,” Grandma Stark says. “Poor boy. What has this town come to? Never were there so many missing kiddos as there are now.” “When you were our age, did people talk about the kids who disappeared?” Nia asks. You and Imre exchange glances. Nia isn’t the type to initiate any questioning. “Nope. It was just chalked up to town weirdness. Sometimes kids get involved in places they shouldn’t and they end up returning a year later with a pumpkin for a head.” <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ “But now, have you heard of what people are saying?” you rasp. She takes a sip from her mug, “they’ve been saying that it’s gotten to be too much.” “Can you elaborate?” Imre asks. “Well… I’ve heard some people saying that it’s about time they make themselves heard cause the municipality ain’t doing anything to protect our kids,” she says. “But I don’t know what they plan to do.” <<else>>\ “Gran, when you go to bingo, do you hear anythin’ from the old-timers?” Lorcan asks. She takes a sip from her mug, “us old farts usually talk about the rising prices of petrol, hun. But when I’m grocery shopping I hear things and some people have been saying that it’s gotten to be too much.” “Can you elaborate?” Imre asks. “Well… I’ve heard some people saying that it’s about time they make themselves heard cause the municipality ain’t doing anything to protect our kids,” she says. “But I don’t know what they plan to do.” <</if>> Grandma Stark lays a hand on Lorcan’s head, “that’s why I keep telling ya, I don’t want you to be out too late anymore. I’m not saying that you can’t go out but don’t send me to an early grave by being out near the woods alone.” There’s a salt and pepper shaker in the shape of a mushroom in front of you. “Good thing I have friends now as you keep repeatin’ Gran,” Lorcan replies sarcastically. No one is paying attention. Grandma Stark doesn’t take that as a joke however. She looks around at all of you and says, “thank you for being my boy’s friends. Really. You don’t know how I worry for him. Sometimes it’s just as brave to have help than to face monsters by yourself.” You <<cycle '$klepto3' autoselect>><<option 'swipe it'>><<option 'leave it'>><</cycle>>. [[NEXT|Page 566]] </h3>

<h3>You all exchange glances. She doesn’t know how much help you’ve all provided each other since yesterday against ‘monsters.’ You think she’ll leave but instead she leans against the counter and watches you interact. She must not want to miss Lorcan and his friends. That means you can’t speak freely about what to do with the problem in her basement. “I have to leave soon. I have to stop by the hospital for my volunteer shift,” Nia proclaims. “Doctor Ramirez promised to show me the different types of painkillers and anaesthetics as a reward for grabbing this shift last minute since Polly is sick again.” //Nia will try to get whatever she can to keep Arthur sedated.// Imre looks at her, “that sounds nice. I can drop you off, I have to go see the disaster left over from the party and make sure there aren’t any stragglers.” //Imre will scope out the situation to see if anyone is questioning James’ disappearance and to potentially clean up any evidence that could point to any of you.// “I’m tired as fuck. I’m not going anywhere,” Lorcan states. “Gran, maybe we could watch one of those action movies you like, the ones with a shitload of explosions?” “Oh that sounds wonderful,” she replies excitedly. //He’ll keep watch on Arthur and distract his Grandma.// Then it’s your turn. <hr>\ * [[“I’ll go home, my brother’s probably worried.”|Page 567][$askSally to true]] * [[“Maybe I’ll take a walk around Main Street.”|Page 567][$stakeout to true]] * [[“I need to keep sleeping.”|Page 567][$solowork to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $askSally>>\ Sally is probably furious. But that doesn’t matter as much as figuring out if he noticed that Arthur hasn’t come back. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You might also take some time to go over in your mind what these new developments mean for the investigation. Arthur must know something and Imre stole some pages which you have a hunch are from Yasmine Mir’s diary. What other pages could he need so desperately that wasn’t the reason he got into a fight with Nia last night? <<else>>\ You’re not as good as a detective as the others but you need to at least pull some of your weight. <</if>>\ But right as you say that you feel the oncoming migraine. You grip onto the edge of the table. “Fuck,” you groan as the pain starts moving. “Are you alright, hun?” Grandma Stark asks. “Yeah just… head hurts,” you manage to choke out, your throat burning. “Then I think you go straight to bed,” Nia says, “you won’t be able to do anything with a migraine.” “I’ll have the chauffeur drop you off,” Imre offers. “Didn’t ya’ll come with a car?” Grandma Stark asks, “that one,” she points behind her. You can barely think as the migraine intensifies. But you know no one can see that car out and about. It has to stay here. Imre starts explaining, likely weaving a good lie to convince her to keep the car here until further notice. You don’t hear it and by the time Imre and Nia escort you outside you can barely walk. <<elseif $stakeout>>\ You could possibly overhear what the townies are saying. Maybe you can figure out what some of the disgruntled ones are planning to do in protest about disappearances and murders. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You might also take some time to go over in your mind what these new developments mean for the investigation. Arthur must know something and Imre stole some pages which you have a hunch are from Yasmine Mir’s diary. What other pages could he need so desperately that wasn’t the reason he got into a fight with Nia last night? <<else>>\ You’re not as good as a detective as the others but you need to at least pull some of your weight. <</if>> But right as you say that you feel the oncoming migraine. You grip onto the edge of the table. “Fuck,” you groan as the pain starts moving. “Are you alright, hun?” Grandma Stark asks. “Yeah just… head hurts,” you manage to choke out. “Then I think you go straight to bed,” Nia says, “you won’t be able to do anything with a migraine.” “I’ll have the chauffeur drop you off,” Imre offers. “Didn’t ya’ll come with a car?” Grandma Stark asks, “that one,” she points behind her. You can barely think as the migraine intensifies. But you know no one can see that car out and about. It has to stay here. Imre starts explaining, likely weaving a good lie to convince her to keep the car here until further notice. You don’t hear it and by the time Imre and Nia escort you outside you can barely walk. <<elseif $solowork>>\ You’re incredibly tired. The sleep that you’ve just woken up from only made a dent in your exhaustion. <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ You might also take some time to go over in your mind what these new developments mean for the investigation. Arthur must know something and Imre stole some pages which you have a hunch are from Yasmine Mir’s diary. What other pages could he need so desperately that wasn’t the reason he got into a fight with Nia last night? <<else>>\ It sounds a bit selfish considering what everyone else is doing but you’ve never been as good as this investigation stuff as they are. <</if>> But right as you say that you feel the oncoming migraine. You grip onto the edge of the table. “Fuck,” you groan as the pain starts moving. “Are you alright, hun?” Grandma Stark asks. “Yeah just… head hurts,” you manage to choke out. “It’s good that you’re going straight home then to sleep,” Nia says, “you won’t be able to do anything with a migraine.” “I’ll have the chauffeur drop you off,” Imre offers. “Didn’t ya’ll come with a car?” Grandma Stark asks, “that one,” she points behind her. You can barely think as the migraine intensifies. But you know no one can see that car out and about. It has to stay here. Imre starts explaining, likely weaving a good lie to convince her to keep the car here until further notice. You don’t hear it and by the time Imre and Nia escort you outside you can barely walk. <</if>>\ END OF SCENE 4 </h3>

<h3>You know that your homemade solutions aren't going to fix the problem of a mold that seems to have contaminated the deepest parts of the manor. But at least you don't want to look at it all the time. You find a book in your father's office and get to the task of making a mold remover solution. In a spray bottle you go around dousing the wood in white vinegar. You let it sit and then go ahead and scrub at it with a wet cloth. Surprisingly, it does kill much of the mold you can see. Of course you only cleaned a small part but it's better than nothing. Sally just ends up thinking that the mold is disappearing by itself. Did you do anything else? <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Found your style.|Finding your style.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>It's a simple thing, really. Anyone can do it. Which means you can. You buy some bulbs from the dollar store and go throughout the house, replacing old flickering bulbs. You even find lamps you didn't know existed. The house ends up looking so bright that it's disconcerting. You and your brothers spend many times blinking rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes. Did you do anything else? <hr>\ * [[Remodeled your room.|Remodeling your room.]] * [[Found your style.|Finding your style.]] * [[No.|Episode 6: Looking for a victim shivering in bed]] </h3>

<h3>You two aren’t that close and you don’t know what to talk about so there falls an awkward silence in the air. To avoid potentially meeting his gaze, you turn the other way and pretend to be asleep until you are. <<set $imrereject to true>> [[NEXT|Page 562]] </h3>

<h3><<if $NiaRF > 5 || $NiaRA > 5>>\ Her smooth brown legs shine in their beautiful hydration. You feel your mouth go dry and Nia clears her throat. When you look at her again, she’s looking at you with a blank look on her face. But there’s something in her eyes —as you know her like your own soul— that tells you she doesn’t mind when you look at her. “Hannah lent me some lotion,” she explains. “A bit kooky, but she’s nice. How did someone like Lorcan come from her?” You grin, “maybe he’s adopted.” “Or he’s just a man. A blond man at that,” Nia’s lip curls but you can see the amusement in her eyes. <<if $MC is 'cis female.' || $MC is 'trans female.' || $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.' || $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “So that’s why you keep me around? Because I’m not a guy?” you ask, teasingly. Nia slides under the covers and pats the spot next to her. You crawl up the bed and slip under too. You face each other and it’s so how it used to be when you had sleepovers it makes your chest ache with the poignant bittersweetness of time gone by. “That’s definitely part of it,” she ribs. You roll your eyes humorously. <<else>>\ “So why do you keep me around? I might be more of a dude than him,” you ask, teasingly. Nia slides under the covers and pats the spot next to her. You crawl up the bed and slip under too. You face each other and it’s so how it used to be when you had sleepovers it makes your chest ache with the poignant bittersweetness of time gone by. “I’m a huge fucking hypocrite,” she ribs. You snort. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 558*]] <<elseif $NiaRF <= 5 && $NiaRA <= 5>>\ Her smooth brown legs shine in their beautiful hydration. You feel your mouth go dry and Nia clears her throat. When you look at her again, she’s looking at you with a blank look on her face. But there’s something in her eyes —you still know a bit of her— that tells you she does mind that you’re looking. You feel like a creep. You slide under the covers and pull them up to your neck. Nia finishes what she’s doing and climbs in too. <<set $noball to true>> Immediately she turns her back to you and from the space in between you, it’s obvious she doesn’t want to chat. You close your eyes and try to sleep. [[NEXT|Page 563]] <<elseif $NiaP>>\ “How did you have body cream in your bag but not a bonnet?” you ask. “Hannah lent me some lotion,” she explains. “A bit kooky, but she’s nice. How did someone like Lorcan come from her?” You grin, “maybe he’s adopted.” “Or he’s just a man. A blond man at that,” Nia’s lip curls but you can see the amusement in her eyes. <<if $MC is 'cis female.' || $MC is 'trans female.' || $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.' || $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ “So that’s why you tolerate my bullshit? Because I’m not a guy?” you ask, teasingly. Nia slides under the covers and pats the spot next to her. You crawl up the bed and slip under too. You face each other and it’s so how it used to be when you had sleepovers it makes your chest ache with the poignant bittersweetness of time gone by. You miss her. “That’s definitely part of it,” she ribs. You roll your eyes humorously. <<else>>\ “You must adore the hell outta me then cause I might be more of a dude than him,” you ask, teasingly. Nia slides under the covers and pats the spot next to her. You crawl up the bed and slip under too. You face each other and it’s so how it used to be when you had sleepovers it makes your chest ache with the poignant bittersweetness of time gone by. “I have to brace myself everytime I see to make peace with that you’re a man,” she ribs. You snort. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 558-NIAPLA]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $homei>>\ Her eyes travel down to your chest and before you can ask her you feel the cold touch of the necklace. By the way she’s eyeing it she must know who it belongs to. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask. <<elseif $homel>>\ “Did Lorcan give you a knife?” she asks. You didn’t expect her to ask this. “Yeah, why?” “Nothing. I didn’t believe him when he said that,” she answers. “He told you that? Why?” you scrunch up your nose. She shrugs, “sometimes we talk.” <</if>>\ Her face looks so content, in a way you haven’t seen from her since you came back. As if she had no worries in the world. But you know that’s a lie. She has a lot of worry compounded on her shoulders and the only reason she hasn’t fallen under its weight is because she has amazing shoulder— You shake your head. This happens all the time with her. You get so enraptured by her beauty that you forget what you really want to ask. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-3][$imrenia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] <<elseif $imrethreaten and $Worth > $Worthless && $Worth >= 2 && $Worth <= 5>>\ <<set $Worthmid to true>> * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-3][$imrenia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok2 to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] * [[“I can see why you chose Imre.”|Page 559-5][$imrebes2 to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>>\ <<set $Worthlessmid to true>> * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] * [[“I can see why you chose Imre.”|Page 559-5][$imrebes2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>Her face looks so content, in a way you haven’t seen from her since you came back. As if she had no worries in the world. But you know that’s a lie. She has a lot of worry compounded on her shoulders and the only reason she hasn’t fallen under its weight is because she refuses to let her walls down. But she can’t keep doing this with you. She can have walls with everyone but you. You want to be the best friend she vomits up all her pain to. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-2][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] *[[⟡ “Hug me, please.”|Page 559-2][$hugnia to true]] <<else>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-2][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] *[[⟡ “Hug me, please.”|Page 559-2][$hugnia to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $niaok>>\ She looks away from you, her big brown eyes looking somewhere above her. “I almost forgot it,” she says. “Do you really think now is the time to talk about that?” “When would be the best time?” “When I’ve had about four cigarettes,” she jests. Or perhaps she isn’t being facetious at all. You lay on your back and look up too. Your arms folded over your stomach like hers. You can hear the wind pressing against the windowsill. You can hear the sounds of doors opening and children laughing. <<if $murderer>>\ “I know you did what you did in self-defence,” she begins, her voice low. “I do get it. James was the kind of guy who would only ever offer women sexual harassment claims against him. He was a piece of shit with a tiny man complex. I know that but…” You don’t dare look at her. You know she wouldn’t like you to. “But…?” you prompt. “I can’t stop seeing his mom’s face. She goes to all his games, I’ve seen her. She’s nice, God knows how //that// came from her. I don’t want to think about how she’ll be destroyed when she never hears from her son again, but I am thinking far too much about it,” she admits, the last words of her sentence turning raspy. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” That gives you the courage to look over and you wish you hadn’t. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. Oh God, you press your tongue against your teeth. You can’t laugh like that in front of her. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” //Of course you do, sweet Nia. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.// “Although, when I saw your face after you killed him… you didn’t look like it bothered you that much. Frankly, it seemed as if you enjoyed it or at the very least craved it,” she says, eyeing you critically. You eye her in equal, challenging her to see what’s within your eyes. “Maybe it was shock,” she says, her voice strange. “Most likely,” you agree with a smile. She looks away. Your lip curls. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. She does look pretty when she cries even if she’s a bleeding heart. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. You only saved your own life. You don’t regret not letting yourself get killed. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her you just did what you had to it would likely make her feel worse. <</if>> <<elseif $niam>>\ “I understand why I did it,” she begins, her voice low and almost… unsure. “He was trying to kill you and I always knew that if I ever killed anyone it would be for you. But… fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. You notice one of her nails is chipped. “Nia,” you say softly and grip her arm. “It’s ok.” “No it’s not!” she says abruptly and she throws her hands off her face. She looks at you angrily, eyes brimming with tears. “I killed someone. That’s not ‘ok’ or ‘fine’ or ‘easy.’ I want to be a surgeon, Birdie. I want to save lives, not take them!” her voice breaks. You freeze, you’ve never seen her like this. Tears threatening to spill and teeth biting into her lower lip. Her eyes search yours, as if trying to find a life-saver. “Oh, Nia,” you say softly and caress her quivering cheek. She lets out a sob and blinks quickly, her voice ragged. She gulps several times and wipes at her eyes. When you catch her hand it’s shaking and you bring it to your lips. She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You wish you could make her pain go away. You press a kiss to her cheek and whisper, “you are the best person I have ever met.” She closes her eyes and inhales. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You hate seeing her like this. Why is she so good? That fucker deserved worse than what he got. Still, you have to play the understanding one right now. You press a kiss near her lips and whisper, “this world is full of monsters, Nia. You’re the only angel for me.” She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. She saved you. You don’t regret her killing him for your sake. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her she did what she had to it would likely make her feel worse. <</if>>\ <</if>> <<elseif $niaok2>>\ She looks away from you, her big brown eyes looking somewhere above her. “I almost forgot it,” she says. “Do you really think now is the time to talk about that?” “When would be the best time?” “When I’ve had about four cigarettes,” she jests. Or perhaps she isn’t being facetious at all. You lay on your back and look up too. Your arms folded over your stomach like hers. You can hear the wind pressing against the windowsill. You can hear the sounds of doors opening and children laughing. <<if $murderer>>\ “I know you did what you did in self-defence,” she begins, her voice low. “I do get it. James was the kind of guy who would only ever offer women sexual harassment claims against him. He was a piece of shit with a tiny man complex. I know that but…” You don’t dare look at her. You know she wouldn’t like you to. “You don’t like it,” you whisper. “I can’t stop seeing his mom’s face. She goes to all his games, I’ve seen her. She’s nice, God knows how //that// came from her. I don’t want to think about how she’ll be destroyed when she never hears from her son again, but I am thinking far too much about it,” she admits, the last words of her sentence turning raspy. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” That gives you the courage to look over and you wish you hadn’t. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve her tears. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. Oh God, you press your tongue against your teeth. You can’t laugh like that in front of her. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” //Of course you do, sweet Nia. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.// “Although, when I saw your face after you killed him… you didn’t look like it bothered you that much. Frankly, it seemed as if you enjoyed it or at the very least craved it,” she says, eyeing you critically. You eye her in equal, challenging her to see what’s within your eyes. “Maybe it was shock,” she says, her voice strange. “Most likely,” you agree with a smile. She looks away. Your lip curls. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. She does look pretty when she cries even if she’s a bleeding heart. You’re surprised she doesn’t see you for the trash you are. She made excuses for you. What a joke. If she only knew how horrible you are she would want you buried next to James. She can’t ever know how awful you are. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. You only saved your own life. You don’t regret not letting yourself get killed. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her you just did what you had to it would likely make her feel worse. Wow, you’re so useless you can’t even comfort the girl you like. <</if>> <<elseif $niam>>\ “I understand why I did it,” she begins, her voice low and almost… unsure. “He was trying to kill you and I always knew that if I ever killed anyone it would be for you. But… fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. You notice one of her nails is chipped. “Nia,” you say softly and grip her arm. “It’s ok.” “No it’s not!” she says abruptly and she throws her hands off her face. She looks at you angrily, eyes brimming with tears. “I killed someone. That’s not ‘ok’ or ‘fine’ or ‘easy.’ I want to be a surgeon, Birdie. I want to save lives, not take them!” her voice breaks. You freeze, you’ve never seen her like this. Tears threatening to spill and teeth biting into her lower lip. Her eyes search yours, as if trying to find a life-saver. “Oh, Nia,” you say softly and caress her quivering cheek. She lets out a sob and blinks quickly, her voice ragged. She gulps several times and wipes at her eyes. When you catch her hand it’s shaking and you bring it to your lips. She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You wish you could make her pain go away. You press a kiss to her cheek and whisper, “you are the best person I have ever met.” She closes her eyes and inhales. You don’t deserve to live. She doesn’t deserve to suffer because of what you did. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You hate seeing her like this. Why is she so good? That fucker deserved worse than what he got. Still, you have to play the understanding one right now. You press a kiss near her lips and whisper, “this world is full of monsters, Nia. You’re the only angel for me.” She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. She shouldn’t be going through this. You’re such a waste of space all you do is fuck-up. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. She saved you. You don’t regret her killing him for your sake. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her she did what she had to it would likely make her feel worse. You can’t do anything right, not even comfort. <</if>>\ <</if>> <</if>> <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-3][$imrenia to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-3][$imrebes to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] * [[“I can see why you chose Imre.”|Page 559-5][$imrebes2 to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>“James?” she asks. You nod. “He embarrassed me in front of everyone. I was a freak again.” Nia runs her fingernail along your forearm. “I didn’t know that was going to happen and I thought that going up there and slapping him would’ve made it worse for you. Guys like James thrive on—” she sighs, “thrived on conflict. He would’ve loved that. Expected that. Ignoring it, pretending it wasn’t as serious as it made you feel is better because he doesn’t get what he wants.” “But wouldn’t that have made him try harder? Wouldn’t it have made other people bully me harder because they think they can get away with it?” you ask, your voice biting. She ficks her nails against each other, “it wasn’t the best plan, I admit that. It’s the only way I’ve always dealt with things. I don’t go for the throat soon, I plan and bide my time.” <<if $thanks>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<elseif $pecad>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<elseif $nup>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<else>>\ She was an expert at that. The amount of people who fell into misfortune because of her is a long list. She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <</if>>\ “I am sorry,” she says suddenly. You give her a quizzical look. She continues, “if the way I’ve protected you and defended you isn’t enough. It’s just that my dad, you know how he is.” Oh, you do. You run your hand along hers. <hr>\ * [[♥ “I’m grateful.”|Page 560-1][$grate to true]] * [[♥ “I get it but I need more.”|Page 560-1][$more to true]] * [[♡ “With best friend’s like these who needs enemies.”|Page 560-1][$bes to true]] * [[♡ “Thanks for maiming people for me.”|Page 560-1][$maimnia to true]] </h3>

<h3>She sits up, “what?” You relate to her what he said. “... I had no choice but to do what he wanted.” Nia looks at the door, her eyes cold and her jaw taut. “That asshole. I fucking told him, I warned him to not mess with you.” “Imre doesn’t listen to anyone,” you inform her. <<set $niarev to true>> “Yeah I fucking see that,” she seethes. “He’ll have to learn the hard way.” You prop yourself up, “what are you going to do?” Nia glares at the door once more and looks at you, “you can leave that to me. It might be funnier for you if you don’t know until you see it.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “Nia, don’t go overboard. He’s your best friend and I don’t want you to fight,” you say with a kind smile. Nia seems to not have heard you as she lays back down, her eyes still cold. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ You smile. “That’s my girl.” Nia seems to not have heard you as she lays back down, her eyes still cold. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You shrug, she can do whatever. Imre might deserve a lesson in using people. Nia lays back down, her eyes cold. <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] * [[“I can see why you chose Imre.”|Page 559-5][$imrebes2 to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] * [[“Is Imre your bestie now?”|Page 559-5][$imrebes to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] * [[“I can see why you chose Imre.”|Page 559-5][$imrebes2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $menia>>\ She squeezes her eyes shut and moves away from you. You feel a pang in your chest you try to smoother with more words, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I just wanna know.” She’s as still as a statue. Her eyes closed and her mouth pressed firmly into a displeasured frown. She honestly looks like she might never answer you. “You scare me,” she finally admits, her voice as soft as a piano key. You knew it was that, deep down you always knew. “But I—” “Let me finish or I won’t want to later,” she says. “I thought I could handle it. I heard about the things you would do. I thought you would never hurt me. But then when Orla died…” You pressure her, “when my sister died, what?” “Everything turned to ash. You couldn’t handle it and I didn’t know how to handle you. I thought I could Birdie. I thought I was strong enough to hold you while you wanted to tear the world apart but I was weak and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t your best friend. I’m sorry if you thought I hated you. I’m sorry because for a moment I believed I did,” she says quickly, barely taking time to breathe for fear that the words would run away from her. She turns to her side and cups your face, bringing you close until your noses touch. “But overall I’m sorry because I believe I did what was right for me and I still do. I can think all that and still love—” You press your mouth to hers hard, swallowing the rest of her words. <<elseif $menia2>>\ Nia’s eyebrows raise, “why would you think that?” You avoid her eyes, “because you… left. There must be something wrong with me. No one wants to be around me. Obviously you would get sick of me and leave. I don’t blame you.” Nia cups your chin and forces you to look at her. But you’re so ashamed to reveal yourself like this to her. You’re practically begging her to love you. “Birdie, look at me,” she instructs gently. And you just can’t refuse her. When you look into her deep brown eyes she seems to be a bit angry. “Don’t say that about yourself, ever. It’s completely bullshit. I didn’t distance myself because I think you’re lesser.” “You scare me,” shefinally admits, her voice as soft as a piano key. You knew it was that, deep down you always knew. “I thought I could handle it. I heard about the things you would do. I thought you would never hurt me. But then when Orla died…” You ask, “when my sister died, what?” “Everything turned to ash. You couldn’t handle it and I didn’t know how to handle you. I thought I could Birdie. I thought I was strong enough to hold you while you wanted to tear the world apart but I was weak and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t your best friend. I’m sorry if you thought I hated you. I’m sorry because for a moment I believed I did,” she says quickly, barely taking time to breathe for fear that the words would run away from her. She turns to her side and cups your face, bringing you close until your noses touch. “But overall I’m sorry because I believe I did what was right for me and I still do. I can think all that and still love—” She clamps her mouth shut and then presses it against yours, hard. Swallowing the rest of her words. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 561*]] </h3>

<h3>The question is rather innocuous, you don’t mind that Imre has that place because yours and Nia’s relationship has evolved. However, it doesn’t mean that you feel at ease with sharing her. Nia slowly smiles, “are you really jealous?” You try not to receive her smile with one of your own, “maybe. I used to be the most important person in your life.” “You still are,” she says with a touch of kindness. “That spot will not be taken by anyone much less Imre with all his bullshit.” “But he is your best friend now,” you pry. “And you’re my…” she stops speaking and looks up and down as if trying to assign a name to you based on what you look or what position you two find yourselves in. Friends share beds but friends don’t look at each other the way you two do. But you’re also not really dating. Not yet at least. “Your Birdie,” you finish. “My Birdie,” she echoes. <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-3][$imrenia to true]] * ==“Is Imre your bestie now?”== * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok2 to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-1][$jnia to true]] * ==“Is Imre your bestie now?”== * [[“Why did you leave me?”|Page 559-4][$menia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559*][$niaok to true]] * ==“I can see why you chose Imre.”== * [[“Is there something wrong with me?”|Page 559-4][$menia2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $grate>>\ “I hardly ever defend myself and the only times I have ever used violence it usually ends up really bad,” you state. Nia momentarily frowns at that. Your episodes are a sore subject and best not broached yet. “You’re welcome. I would’ve done it even if you were pissed off,” she admits with a sly smile. “You’re so vengeful,” you joke. <<set $NiaRF += 2>> “Only when it concerns people I love,” she says simply. You feel your stomach flip. She’s told you she loved you many times throughout the years. But this time it feels different. The meaning doesn’t feel the same. Though, she seems to not have noticed. <<elseif $more>>\ “I don’t want to be defended through the shadows anymore, Nia. I want someone to be proud to defend me in front of other people. I don’t want to feel like you’re ashamed of me—” “I know, Birdie,” she says. <<set $NiaRF += 3>> “—because I would never feel ashamed of you—” “Stop babbling, I already said you’re right,” she snaps. “Well duh I’m right!” you yell and then stare at her, startled. She laughs. “I’m right?” “Yes,” she agrees. “Oh,” you say. You’re completely stumped. “I’m right.” “Although, I’ll miss getting back at people after. Planning it was fun,” she admits with a sly smile. “You’re so vengeful,” you joke. “Only when it concerns people I love,” she says simply. You feel your stomach flip. She’s told you she loved you many times throughout the years. But this time it feels different. The meaning doesn’t feel the same. Though, she seems to not have noticed. <<elseif $bes>>\ “You don’t like it?” she asks. “I didn’t say that,” you respond, “it’s just that I wouldn’t want to be your enemy.” “You wouldn’t,” she agrees. <<set $NiaRA += 3>> “But it would be cool if you defended and protected me in front of other people. Now that would be great, Nia,” you say and nudge her. She yawns. “It’s not nearly as fun, I would also be putting a target on my back.” You bat your eyelashes at her, “pleaseeeeeeee?” She gives you a hard look for a second before looking away. “Fine.” You smile. “Thanks, bestie.” “Always,” she murmurs. <<elseif $maimnia>>\ “That sounds very disturbing,” she says. “Why?” She raises up a finger, “I don’t maim. No one is permanently hurt from what I do to them. All I do is make sure they have a quick trip to the hospital but other than that I wouldn’t ever disable anyone.” You blow a raspberry, “that’s boring.” “You’re psychotic,” she says with a laugh. “I’m your psycho,” you retort. “You’re my Birdie,” she corrects. <<set $NiaRA += 3>> <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 561*]] </h3>

<h3>She takes your hand and brings it to her neck, softly running your fingers along the bones beneath. “Why do you think we wasted so much time?” you ask. She runs her hand along your arm, causing goosebumps to form. “I can only speak for myself,” she says. “I didn’t know what to say to you.” You muster some courage from who-knows-where and slide your fingers down along the thin expanse of her upper chest, right below her collarbone. “You’ve had tons of boyfriends and girlfriends, why would it be different with me?” Nia scoots closer and cups your cheek, forcing you to look deep into her dark brown eyes. “Are you seriously asking that?” You shrug a shoulder, “I guess it’s hard for me to get.” Nia shakes her head, “you’re such an idiot.” Before you can respond she brings her thick, soft lips to yours. You cup her cheek and move your mouth along hers. It’s a bit clumsy, you’re not so used to kissing but she keenly moves her mouth against yours, urging you with her searching tongue to open for her. Once you do, you gasp when her plaint tongue licks past your teeth and runs along the top of your tongue. She coaxes your tongue to dance with hers. It’s clean yet oh-so-hot. You feel your skin burn with what she’s doing to you. She makes little noises when you flick your tongue a certain way. She grabs your hand —the one that was making little circles on her skin— and brings it down to cup her tit. It barely fits into your hand and you when your finger slides across her nipple she pants into your mouth. She guides you on how to play with her hardening nub. You press the willingly peak in between your fingers and jerk it. “Yes,” she moans into your mouth, “yes, Birdie.” You feel a growing ache in between your legs. Akin to pressing a bruise, it feels strange at first but as it keeps throbbing you find that it becomes a pleasant delicacy. You never knew how much pain and pleasure resemble each other. “I’ve missed you, so much,” she whispers into your mouth as you lick her bottom lip. And those words— those important three words are on the tip of your tongue. Those words that have been screaming to get out for years upon years. Those words that feel too little to encapsulate all you feel for her but also too much too soon. You felt those words the first moment you ever saw her. When she was just four and laying on the ground after you accidentally bumped into her. When she went to the beach with her Dad and told you that the early morning bird with its beautiful song reminded her of you. When she told your sister that if she ever touched you again, Nia would kill her. All those moments flash through your mind as your wet mouths move and roll against each other. <hr>\ * [[“I’ve missed you too.”|Page 562*][$missnia to true]] * [[“You’re gorgeous.”|Page 562*][$gorgnia to true]] * [[“Never leave me.”|Page 562*][$leavenia to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $ImreRA > 6 || $ImreRF > 6>>\ Nia moves back from your insistent mouth to yawn which she covers with her hand. “Shit,” she says, “I’m about to faint.” You raise up your wristwatch which has seen better days. “I think it’s… nine?” Nia’s eyes open slightly, “we made out that long?” You smile, your face feeling hot. Nia grabs your hand and intertwines her fingers with yours. You see her eyes close, her body relaxing. <<if $MC is 'cis female.' || $MC is 'trans female.'>>\ But you want to ask her something before she falls asleep. “Nia?” “Hm?” “Is it ok that we’re two girls doing this? I mean… I know you’ve been with girls but I never have,” you say. She maintains her eyes closed but responds, “I think it’s ok. As for everyone else? No. A lot of people don’t like seeing two girls kiss unless it’s to fulfil their sick fantasies.” “Oh.” She squeezes your hand, “I don’t care. Do you?” You think for a moment before answering, “I guess not.” “Nia?” “What?” <<elseif $MC is 'cis male.' || $MC is 'trans male.'>>\ But you want to ask her something before she falls asleep. “Nia?” “Hm?” “So when you say you hate men, is it really that much? I fall into that category too,” you say. She maintains her eyes closed but responds, “it is only for the ones who deserve it. You’ve done nothing to me or any woman —consciously— for me to ever hate you.” “Oh.” She squeezes your hand, “I don’t care what you have in between your legs, ok?” You think for a moment before answering, “ok.” “Nia?” “What?” “Can I have a nickname for you?” “Sleep tight.” <<elseif $MC is 'non-binary with female reproductive organs.' || $MC is 'non-binary with male reproductive organs.'>>\ But you want to ask her something before she falls asleep. “Nia?” “Hm?” “Since you have only ever liked girls and boys… and I’m not really either. Are you ok with that?” you ask. She maintains her eyes closed but responds, “me liking you has nothing to do with what you refer to yourself as or what you call yourself. It’s about you.” “Oh.” She squeezes your hand, “I’m into whatever you are, ok?” You think for a moment before answering, “ok.” “Nia?” “What?” <</if>>\ <<elseif $NiaP>>\ Nia moves back to yawn which she covers with her hand. “Shit,” she says, “I’m about to faint.” You raise up your wristwatch which has seen better days. “I think it’s… nine?” Nia’s eyes open slightly, “we’ve talked for that long?” You smile, “like old times.” She smiles too. <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[“Can I have a nickname for you?”|Page 562-NN]] * [[“Sleep tight.”|Page 563]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Imre>>\ “Wait, can I ask you something first?” Nia interrupts. You hold back the words you want to spill from your mouth. “Ok, sure.” She brings up her hand and starts running her thumb along her nails, “why did you come here? I’m pretty sure that Imre has space.” You startle at that, “what are you saying?” Nia rolls her eyes. “Birdie.” “What?” “You’d have to be blind and dumb to not see what’s going on between you two. If I had any doubts that it wasn’t becoming more serious, last night at the party confirmed it for me. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him,” she claims. You puff your cheeks and blow out air. “It’s… I don’t know what’s going on with Imre.” Nia huffs, “quelle surprise.” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ You give her a hard stare. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? Imre doesn’t have relationships with anyone. I don’t think he’s capable of it. I’ve tried to tell—” “I know,” you stress, throwing up your hands. “You’ve told me a bajillion times. I can’t help it, ok? He just has a way of getting to me.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you doubt your choice to pursue him. Well, he already did that himself with the shit he pulled last night. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You look down at her koala. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? Imre doesn’t have relationships with anyone. I don’t think he’s capable of it. I’ve tried to tell you over and over again. I don’t think this budding relationship is good for you.” “I know,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it, he does something to me where I can’t leave him.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you doubt your choice to pursue him. Yes, he’s not telling you something. Yes, he’s using you in some way. Yes, he let you get bullied at his party. All this is true but you can’t deny the pull he has on you. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ You give her a hard stare. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? Imre doesn’t have relationships with anyone. I don’t think he’s capable of it. I’ve tried to tell—” “I know,” you stress, throwing up your hands. “You’ve told me a bajillion times. I can’t help it, ok? He just has a way of getting to me.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you doubt your choice to pursue him. Well, he already did that himself with the shit he pulled last night. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You look down at her koala. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? Imre doesn’t have relationships with anyone. I don’t think he’s capable of it. I’ve tried to tell you over and over again. I don’t think this budding relationship is good for you.” “I know,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it, he does something to me where I can’t leave him.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you doubt your choice to pursue him. Yes, he’s not telling you something. Yes, he’s using you in some way. Yes, he let you get bullied at his party. All this is true but you can’t deny the pull he has on you. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <</if>>\ <<elseif $Lorcan>>\ “Wait, can I ask you something first?” Nia interrupts. You hold back the words you want to spill from your mouth. “Ok, sure.” She brings up her hand and starts running her thumb along her nails, “why did you come here? I’m pretty sure Lorcan’s bed smells— actually no I think it’s probably full of clothes and crumbs but you seem to like spending all your time with him.” You startle at that, “what are you saying?” Nia rolls her eyes. “Birdie.” “What?” “Look, this whole enemy relationship you two have maintained for years always seemed frankly stupid to me and I always thought you two were one step away from making out because he never looked at Orla with the intensity he looked at you,” she claims. You puff your cheeks and blow out air. “That’s… he loved my sister a lot. He hated and probably still really hates me.” Nia huffs, “if that’s what you call hate I don’t know what you would call love.” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ You give her a hard stare. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? I’m not here to sugarcoat things but I’m always not here to judge. I just think you have to really consider whether getting into a relationship—” “We have no relationship!” you yell, throwing up your hands. “Just because we’re not at each other’s throats twenty-four-seven doesn’t mean shit! Once this whole thing is over we’ll probably never speak again.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you feel like you’re the one talking crazy when she’s out here spouting out some bullshit about you and your dead sister’s ex. Lorcan seems to be just as obsessed with Orla as ever. But a small voice in your head calls you a liar. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You look down at her koala. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? ’m not here to sugarcoat things but I’m always not here to judge. I just think you have to really consider whether getting into a relationship with someone that messed up, You two would just fuel each other. Enable and fight.” “Ok,” you say quietly. “I don’t—,” you lick your lips, “it’s not going to be a thing anyway. He obviously could never love someone like me.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you feel as if you’re wrong for believing this about yourself. She can’t understand, she’s perfect and her opinions hold weight. She would never play second fiddle. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a gentle tone. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ You give her a hard stare. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? I’m not here to sugarcoat things but I’m always not here to judge. I just think you have to really consider whether getting into a relationship—” “We have no relationship!” you yell, throwing up your hands. “Just because we’re not at each other’s throats twenty-four-seven doesn’t mean shit! Once this whole thing is over we’ll probably never speak again.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you feel like you’re the one talking crazy when she’s out here spouting out some bullshit about you and your dead sister’s ex. Lorcan seems to be just as obsessed with Orla as ever. But a small voice in your head calls you a liar. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a cool tone. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You look down at her koala. “What do you want me to say, Birdie? ’m not here to sugarcoat things but I’m always not here to judge. I just think you have to really consider whether getting into a relationship with someone that messed up, You two would just fuel each other. Enable and fight.” “Ok,” you say quietly. “I don’t—,” you lick your lips, “it’s not going to be a thing anyway. He obviously could never love someone like me.” Nia looks worried and you can’t stand it because it makes you feel as if you’re wrong for believing this about yourself. She can’t understand, she’s perfect and her opinions hold weight. She would never play second fiddle. “Can I ask my question now?” you ask. “Ask,” she replies with a gentle tone. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $imrethreaten and $Worthmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok2 to true]] * [[“Imre is probably better than me.”|Page 559-10][$imrefri2 to true]] * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok2 to true]] * [[“Imre is probably better than me.”|Page 559-10][$imrefri2 to true]] * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $niaok>>\ She looks away from you, her big brown eyes looking somewhere above her. “I almost forgot it,” she says. “Do you really think now is the time to talk about that?” “When would be the best time?” “When I’ve had about four cigarettes,” she jests. Or perhaps she isn’t being facetious at all. You lay on your back and look up too. Your arms folded over your stomach like hers. You can hear the wind pressing against the windowsill. You can hear the sounds of doors opening and children laughing. <<if $murderer>>\ “I know you did what you did in self-defence,” she begins, her voice low. “I do get it. James was the kind of guy who would only ever offer women sexual harassment claims against him. He was a piece of shit with a tiny man complex. I know that but…” You don’t dare look at her. You know she wouldn’t like you to. “But…?” you prompt. “I can’t stop seeing his mom’s face. She goes to all his games, I’ve seen her. She’s nice, God knows how //that// came from her. I don’t want to think about how she’ll be destroyed when she never hears from her son again, but I am thinking far too much about it,” she admits, the last words of her sentence turning raspy. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” That gives you the courage to look over and you wish you hadn’t. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. Oh God, you press your tongue against your tongue. You can’t laugh like that in front of her. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” //Of course you do, sweet Nia. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.// “Although, when I saw your face after you killed him… you didn’t look like it bothered you that much. Frankly, it seemed as if you enjoyed it or at the very least craved it,” she says, eyeing you critically. You eye her in equal, challenging her to see what’s within your eyes. “Maybe it was shock,” she says, her voice strange. “Most likely,” you agree with a smile. She looks away. Your lip curls. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. You only saved your own life. You don’t regret not letting yourself get killed. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her you just did what you had to it would likely make her feel worse. <</if>> <<elseif $niam>>\ “I understand why I did it,” she begins, her voice low and almost… unsure. “He was trying to kill you and I always knew that if I ever killed anyone it would be for you. But… fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. You notice one of her nails is chipped. “Nia,” you say softly and grip her arm. “It’s ok.” “No it’s not!” she says abruptly and she throws her hands off her face. She looks at you angrily, eyes brimming with tears. “I killed someone. That’s not ‘ok’ or ‘fine’ or ‘easy.’ I want to be a surgeon, Birdie. I want to save lives, not take them!” her voice breaks. You freeze, you’ve never seen her like this. Tears threatening to spill and teeth biting into her lower lip. Her eyes search yours, as if trying to find a life-saver. “Oh, Nia,” you say softly and caress her quivering cheek. She lets out a sob and blinks quickly, her voice ragged. She gulps several times and wipes at her eyes. When you catch her hand it’s shaking and you grasp it, refusing to let go. She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You wish you could make her pain go away. You press a kiss to her cheek and whisper, “you are the best person I have ever met.” She closes her eyes and inhales. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You hate seeing her like this. Why is she so good? That fucker deserved worse than what he got. Still, you have to play the understanding one right now. You hold onto her and whisper, “this world is full of monsters, Nia. You’re the only angel for me.” She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. She saved you. You don’t regret her killing him for your sake. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her she did what she had to it would likely make her feel worse. <</if>>\ <</if>> <<elseif $niaok2>>\ She looks away from you, her big brown eyes looking somewhere above her. “I almost forgot it,” she says. “Do you really think now is the time to talk about that?” “When would be the best time?” “When I’ve had about four cigarettes,” she jests. Or perhaps she isn’t being facetious at all. You lay on your back and look up too. Your arms folded over your stomach like hers. You can hear the wind pressing against the windowsill. You can hear the sounds of doors opening and children laughing. <<if $murderer>>\ “I know you did what you did in self-defence,” she begins, her voice low. “I do get it. James was the kind of guy who would only ever offer women sexual harassment claims against him. He was a piece of shit with a tiny man complex. I know that but…” You don’t dare look at her. You know she wouldn’t like you to. “You don’t like it,” you whisper. “I can’t stop seeing his mom’s face. She goes to all his games, I’ve seen her. She’s nice, God knows how //that// came from her. I don’t want to think about how she’ll be destroyed when she never hears from her son again, but I am thinking far too much about it,” she admits, the last words of her sentence turning raspy. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” That gives you the courage to look over and you wish you hadn’t. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve her tears. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ “I feel the same,” you confess. “I didn’t want to do it. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back. I really do,” you say. Oh God, you press your tongue against your teeth. You can’t laugh like that in front of her. “I know,” she says softly, so soft you can barely hear her. “I believe you.” //Of course you do, sweet Nia. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.// “Although, when I saw your face after you killed him… you didn’t look like it bothered you that much. Frankly, it seemed as if you enjoyed it or at the very least craved it,” she says, eyeing you critically. You eye her in equal, challenging her to see what’s within your eyes. “Maybe it was shock,” she says, her voice strange. “Most likely,” you agree with a smile. She looks away. Your lip curls. You see the drop of tear sliding slowly down her smooth face, dangling along her jaw until it stains the bedding. You’re surprised she doesn’t see you for the trash you are. She made excuses for you. What a joke. If she only knew how horrible you are she would want you buried next to James. She can’t ever know how awful you are. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. You only saved your own life. You don’t regret not letting yourself get killed. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her you just did what you had to it would likely make her feel worse. Wow, you’re so useless you can’t even comfort the girl you like. <</if>> <<elseif $niam>>\ “I understand why I did it,” she begins, her voice low and almost… unsure. “He was trying to kill you and I always knew that if I ever killed anyone it would be for you. But… fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. You notice one of her nails is chipped. “Nia,” you say softly and grip her arm. “It’s ok.” “No it’s not!” she says abruptly and she throws her hands off her face. She looks at you angrily, eyes brimming with tears. “I killed someone. That’s not ‘ok’ or ‘fine’ or ‘easy.’ I want to be a surgeon, Birdie. I want to save lives, not take them!” her voice breaks. You freeze, you’ve never seen her like this. Tears threatening to spill and teeth biting into her lower lip. Her eyes search yours, as if trying to find a life-saver. “Oh, Nia,” you say softly and caress her quivering cheek. She lets out a sob and blinks quickly, her voice ragged. She gulps several times and wipes at her eyes. When you catch her hand it’s shaking and you grasp it hard. She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. <<if $Ethical > 4>>\ You wish you could make her pain go away. You lightly stroke her arm, “you are the best person I have ever met.” She closes her eyes and inhales. You don’t deserve to live. She doesn’t deserve to suffer because of what you did. <<elseif $Corrupt > 4>>\ You hate seeing her like this. Why is she so good? That fucker deserved worse than what he got. Still, you have to play the understanding one right now. You stroke her arm and whisper, “this world is full of monsters, Nia. But you’re not one of them.” She grips your hand hard, but you force the pain from your mind. She shouldn’t be going through this. You’re such a waste of space all you do is fuck-up. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You don’t know what else to do, but pat her awkwardly. You feel a bit useless to be honest but you don’t know what she wants from you. She saved you. You don’t regret her killing him for your sake. It’s just survival. You reserve your thoughts to yourself because if you told her she did what she had to it would likely make her feel worse. You can’t do anything right, not even comfort. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Imre is probably better than me.”|Page 559-10][$imrefri2 to true]] * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“James?” she asks. You nod. “He embarrassed me in front of everyone. I was a freak again.” Nia plays with her hair. “I didn’t know that was going to happen and I thought that going up there and slapping him would’ve made it worse for you. Guys like James thrive on—” she sighs, “thrived on conflict. He would’ve loved that. Expected that. Ignoring it, pretending it wasn’t as serious as it made you feel is better because he doesn’t get what he wants.” “But wouldn’t that have made him try harder? Wouldn’t it have made other people bully me harder because they think they can get away with it?” you ask, your voice biting. She ficks her nails against each other, “it wasn’t the best plan, I admit that. It’s the only way I’ve always dealt with things. I don’t go for the throat soon, I plan and bide my time.” <<if $thanks>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<elseif $pecad>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<elseif $nup>>\ “Like Cindy?” you ask, with a slight smile. “I still can;t believe you put a nail through her foot.” Nia scoffs, “it hardly hurt her. She was fine.” She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <<else>>\ She was an expert at that. The amount of people who fell into misfortune because of her is a long list. She was never too cruel, she did damage that could be overcome. <</if>>\ “I am sorry,” she says suddenly. You give her a quizzical look. She continues, “if the way I’ve protected you and defended you isn’t enough. It’s just that my dad, you know how he is.” Oh, you do... <hr>\ * [[“I’m grateful.”|Page 560-2][$grate to true]] * [[“I get it but I need more.”|Page 560-2][$more to true]] * [[“With best friend’s like these who needs enemies.”|Page 560-2][$bes to true]] * [[“Thanks for maiming people for me.”|Page 560-2][$maimnia to true]] </h3>

<h3>She sits up, “what?” You relate to her what he said. “... I had no choice but to do what he wanted.” Nia looks at the door, her eyes cold and her jaw taut. “That asshole. I fucking told him, I warned him to not mess with you.” “Imre doesn’t listen to anyone,” you inform her. <<set $niarev to true>> “Yeah I fucking see that,” she seethes. “He’ll have to learn the hard way.” You prop yourself up, “what are you going to do?” Nia glares at the door once more and looks at you, “you can leave that to me. It might be funnier for you if you don’t know until you see it.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “Nia, don’t go overboard. He’s your best friend and I don’t want you to fight,” you say with a kind smile. Nia seems to not have heard you as she lays back down, her eyes still cold. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ You smile. “That’s my bestie.” Nia seems to not have heard you as she lays back down, her eyes still cold. <<elseif $amorality>>\ You shrug, she can do whatever. Imre might deserve a lesson in using people. Nia lays back down, her eyes cold. <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-2][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-2][$jnia to true]] * “I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-2][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-2][$imrefri to true]] *[[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-2][$hugnia to true]] <<else>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-2][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-2][$jnia to true]] * “I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-2][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-2][$imrefri to true]] *[[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-2][$hugnia to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Worth > 3>>\ You try to make the question innocuous, but internally you’re screaming. This has been eating away at you. Nia slowly smiles, “are you really jealous?” You try not to receive her smile with one of your own, “I was your best friend since we were like four.” “You still are,” she says with a touch of kindness. “That spot will not be taken by anyone much less Imre with all his bullshit.” “But he is your best friend now,” you pry. “And you’re my…” she stops speaking and looks up and down as if trying to assign a name to you based on what you look or what position you two find yourselves in. So much baggage means you might never be able to rekindle the exact friendship you once had. “Your Birdie,” you finish. “My Birdie and that’s more important than a best friend,” she replies. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ Nia’s eyebrows raise, “why would you think that?” You avoid her eyes, “because you… left. There must be something wrong with me. No one wants to be around me. Obviously you would get sick of me and leave. I don’t blame you.” Nia cups your chin and forces you to look at her. But you’re so ashamed to reveal yourself like this to her. You’re practically begging her to say you’re still her best friend as if you could ever win against Imre. “Birdie, look at me,” she instructs gently. And you just can’t refuse her. When you look into her deep brown eyes she seems to be a bit angry. “Don’t say that about yourself, ever. It’s completely bullshit. I didn’t distance myself because I think you’re lesser. You’re the only person I can stand to be around most of the time. I was friends with you because I liked you.” <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ You try to make the question innocuous, but internally you’re screaming. This has been eating away at you. Nia slowly smiles, “are you really jealous?” You try not to receive her smile with one of your own, “I was your best friend since we were like four.” “You still are,” she says with a touch of kindness. “That spot will not be taken by anyone much less Imre with all his bullshit.” “But he is your best friend now,” you pry. “And you’re my…” she stops speaking and looks up and down as if trying to assign a name to you based on what you look or what position you two find yourselves in. So much baggage means you might never be able to rekindle the exact friendship you once had. “Your Birdie,” you finish. “My Birdie and that’s more important than a best friend,” she replies. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ Nia’s eyebrows raise, “why would you think that?” You avoid her eyes, “because you… left. There must be something wrong with me. No one wants to be around me. Obviously you would get sick of me and leave. I don’t blame you.” Nia cups your chin and forces you to look at her. But you’re so ashamed to reveal yourself like this to her. You’re practically begging her to say you’re still her best friend as if you could ever win against Imre. “Birdie, look at me,” she instructs gently. And you just can’t refuse her. When you look into her deep brown eyes she seems to be a bit angry. “Don’t say that about yourself, ever. It’s completely bullshit. I didn’t distance myself because I think you’re lesser. You’re the only person I can stand to be around most of the time. I was friends with you because I liked you.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * ==“Did Imre take my place?”== * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $imrethreaten and $Worthmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * ==“Did Imre take my place?”== * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * ==“Did Imre take my place?”== * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok2 to true]] * ==“Imre is probably better than me.”== * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * ==“Did Imre take my place?”== * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok2 to true]] * ==“Imre is probably better than me.”== * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>She sits up and you do too. She puts her arms around your neck and you press her to you with your arms around her waist. When was the last time you hugged? Was it Sally? You don’t remember. But you know you’ll remember this hug for the rest of your life. She smells of cleanliness. She smells familiar yet her scent demands to be felt. How like her. You sit there for five minutes. Your hearts beating in sync and your hands grasping each other’s clothes in fear that if you let go either of you will disappear. Is this grief? For the silence on both ends, for the years long-gone, for the fights and the screams. For it all. When you finally move away you see her sniffle. [[NEXT|Page 562*]] </h3>

<h3>She squeezes her eyes shut and even though you aren’t touching each other you feel as if she’s moved away. You’re used to her rejection so it’s simple to ignore it and pressure her to finally answer you, “I feel like you want to tell me. Well I’m here now, I’m listening.” She’s as still as a statue. Her eyes closed and her mouth pressed firmly into a displeasured frown. She honestly looks like she might never answer you. “You scare me,” she finally admits, her voice as soft as a piano key. You knew it was that, deep down you always knew. “But I—” “Let me finish or I won’t want to later,” she says. “I thought I could handle it. I heard about the things you would do. I thought you would never hurt me. But then when Orla died…” You pressure her, “when my sister died, what?” <<if $pronouns is 'she'>>\ “Everything turned to ash. You couldn’t handle it and I didn’t know how to handle you. I thought I could Birdie. I thought I was strong enough to hold you while you wanted to tear the world apart but I was weak and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t your best friend. I’m sorry if you thought I hated you. I’m sorry because for a moment I believed I did,” she says quickly, barely taking time to breathe for fear that the words would run away from her. She turns to her side and cups your face, bringing you close until your noses touch. “But overall I’m sorry because I believe I did what was right for me and I still do. I can think all that and still love you just like you’re my sister.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'he'>>\ “Everything turned to ash. You couldn’t handle it and I didn’t know how to handle you. I thought I could Birdie. I thought I was strong enough to hold you while you wanted to tear the world apart but I was weak and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t your best friend. I’m sorry if you thought I hated you. I’m sorry because for a moment I believed I did,” she says quickly, barely taking time to breathe for fear that the words would run away from her. She turns to her side and cups your face, bringing you close until your noses touch. “But overall I’m sorry because I believe I did what was right for me and I still do. I can think all that and still love you just like you’re my brother.” <<elseif $pronouns is 'they'>>\ “Everything turned to ash. You couldn’t handle it and I didn’t know how to handle you. I thought I could Birdie. I thought I was strong enough to hold you while you wanted to tear the world apart but I was weak and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t your best friend. I’m sorry if you thought I hated you. I’m sorry because for a moment I believed I did,” she says quickly, barely taking time to breathe for fear that the words would run away from her. She turns to her side and cups your face, bringing you close until your noses touch. “But overall I’m sorry because I believe I did what was right for me and I still do. I can think all that and still love you just like you’re my sibling.” <</if>>\ You grab her hand and squeeze it tight. <hr> * [[“I’m sorry too.”|Page 559-12][$sorrynia to true]] * [[“I can’t forgive you, not yet.”|Page 559-12][$forgivenias to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $grate>>\ “I hardly ever defend myself and the only times I have ever used violence it usually ends up really bad,” you state. Nia momentarily frowns at that. Your episodes are a sore subject and best not broached yet. “You’re welcome. I would’ve done it even if you were pissed off,” she admits with a sly smile. “You’re so vengeful,” you joke. “Only when it concerns people I love,” she says simply. You feel yourself breaking out in a smile. Once again you’ve retaken your place as her person. <<elseif $more>>\ “I don’t want to be defended through the shadows anymore, Nia. I want someone to be proud to defend me in front of other people. I don’t want to feel like you’re ashamed of me—” “I know, Birdie,” she says. “—because I would never feel ashamed of you—” “Stop babbling, I already said you’re right,” she snaps. “Well duh I’m right!” you yell and then stare at her, startled. She laughs. “I’m right?” “Yes,” she agrees. “Oh,” you say. You’re completely stumped. “I’m right.” “Although, I’ll miss getting back at people after. Planning it was fun,” she admits with a sly smile. “You’re so vengeful,” you joke. “Only when it concerns people I love,” she says simply. You feel yourself breaking out in a smile. Once again you’ve retaken your place as her person. <<elseif $bes>>\ “You don’t like it?” she asks. “I didn’t say that,” you respond, “it’s just that I wouldn’t want to be your enemy.” “You wouldn’t,” she agrees. “But it would be cool if you defended and protected me in front of other people. Now that would be great, Nia,” you say and nudge her. She yawns. “It’s not nearly as fun, I would also be putting a target on my back.” You bat your eyelashes at her, “pleaseeeeeeee?” She gives you a hard look for a second before looking away. “Fine.” You smile. “Thanks, bestie.” <<elseif $maimnia>>\ “That sounds very disturbing,” she says. “Why?” She raises up a finger, “I don’t maim. No one is permanently hurt from what I do to them. All I do is make sure they have a quick trip to the hospital but other than that I wouldn’t ever disable anyone.” You blow a raspberry, “that’s boring.” “You’re psychotic,” she says with a laugh. “I’m your psycho,” you retort. “You’re my best friend,” she corrects. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 561*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $sorrynia>>\ Nia looks at you strangely, “why are you apologizing? I’m the shitty friend.” You sigh, “I wasn’t perfect either. I think I put too much on you sometimes. I didn’t see what it was doing to you.” Nia doesn’t say anything to that, which is an answer in itself. She keeps her hand tightly wound with yours. “Did I suffocate you?” you ask. That question feels so loud in spite of the fact that you said it in a whisper. “Sometimes,” she admits. “I should’ve told you.” “Yeah,” you claim. “Yeah.” <<elseif $forgivesnias>>\ Nia doesn’t look shocked or hurt. “I thought that would happen.” You nod, “it’s too soon. You leaving me really did hurt, I spent two years thinking I was not worth your time and that isn’t easy to forgive.” “Of course,” she says. She keeps her hand tightly wound with yours. “Did I suffocate you?” you ask. That question feels so loud in spite of the fact that you said it in a whisper. “Sometimes,” she admits. “I should’ve told you.” “Yeah,” you claim. “Yeah.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ <<if $imrethreaten and $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worth > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok to true]] * [[“Why didn’t you stop him?”|Page 559-7][$jnia to true]] * [[“Imre threatened me.”|Page 559-8][$imrenia to true]] * [[“I want to talk about why you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”|Page 559-9][$friendnia to true]] * [[“Did Imre take my place?”|Page 559-10][$imrefri to true]] * [[“Hug me, please.”|Page 559-11][$hugnia to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ * [[“Nia, are you ok?”|Page 559-6][$niaok2 to true]] * [[“Imre is probably better than me.”|Page 559-10][$imrefri2 to true]] * [[“Can, I ask for a hug?”|Page 559-11][$hugnia2 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“I never believed it, you know,” she says suddenly. Your eyebrows bunch together, “believed what?” “That this town wasn’t just filled with backwards superstitious people who hated facts. I thought since we’re so isolated from everyone that meant it would lead to more mystical shit. I never once saw what others would say they saw. Imre kept saying it was because I refused to see it that it literally created a block on my senses, whatever that meant,” she explains. You understood what she meant. To say that Nia hated supernatural phenomena was an understatement. She thought it was wish-fulfillment or allegory and she hated the truth being swept aside for a more simplistic sugar-coated version. She takes a deep breath. You see her blink several times, her lips rolling against each other and you realize that she’s shaken. You put a hand on her arm, “Nia?” “Now I can’t deny it. I want to so fucking badly. But what I saw behind you, Birdie…,” she swallows nervously. “I couldn’t even make up that shit in my wildest dreams. I swear I’m going to dream about those lights.” You try to give her strength through your touch. But you don’t know what to say. She’s dealing with something you’ve always known. The supernatural is like second nature to you. <<if $nianick>>\ “When you wake up, things will feel better,“ you reassure her. “Sleep tight, $nianick,” you say. <<else>>\ “When you wake up, things will feel better,“ you reassure her. “Sleep tight, Nia,” you say. <</if>>\ She seems frozen as she stares up at the ceiling. You wait for her to calm down a fraction and let go. <<if $Nia>>\ You turn your back to her and immediately feel a hand on your hip. “You too Birdie,” she says softly. <<elseif $NiaP>>\ You smile at her the best you can and watch her through sleepy eyes. “You too Birdie,” she says softly. <</if>>\ <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ [[NEXT|Page 563*]] <<else>>\ [[NEXT|Page 563]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>She looks at you oddly, as if the idea had never occurred to her and perhaps it has not. “Like Imre?” You shake your head, curling your lip, “obviously not.” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ You would totally come up with something better than what he calls her. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>> \ You can’t compare to him and your nickname will probably be shit but you want to call her something that belongs to you. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ You would totally come up with something better than what he calls her. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You can’t compare to him and your nickname will probably be shit but you want to call her something that belongs to you. <</if>>\ “Ok, go ahead,” she assents. <<textbox '$nianick' ''>> [[NEXT|Page 562-NN*]] </h3>

<h3><<if $nianick is 'birdie'>>She rolls her eyes, “ha ha. Be more creative.” <<textbox '$nianick' ''>> [[NEXT|Page 562-NN*]] <<else>>\ “$nianick,” she muses, “it doesn’t sound bad. I could get used to it but try not to use it all the time. I don’t want Imre to think he can use it too.” “Deal.” <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 562**]] </h3>

<h3>You don’t know how long you sleep for, but at a certain point of time you feel your throat ache terribly. Your eyes open gingerly to Nia gracefully sleeping next to you. You prop yourself up and look around. The sky is lighter outside but from the clock on the wall you calculate you only slept for a little under an hour. You get up and lightly tip-toe out of the room. You stop at the threshold and listen Perhaps Arthur woke up and is maing noise. You can’t miss that. But the house is silent. So you head to the door to the Kitchen for water but you hear a car door slam. You immediately go to the window and see Imre walking back to the house from Arthur’s car. You look down at his hands because otherwise why would he be out there? Deduction concludes he must be looking for something, something that he couldn’t sleep without getting. Something he might’ve not wanted you to see. You see something tucked into the crook of his arm but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Pages perhaps? But why would— Imre starts coming up the stairs and you dash to the room, closing the door just in time for him to open the front door. You close your eyes and try to lessen your breathing for REM sleep. But your mind is running wild. Nia stirs next to you but otherwise remains asleep. [[NEXT|Page 563]] </h3>

<h3><<if $germs>>\ You take a step into the room. Lorcan looks down at your offending foot as if it personally victimized him. “Everyone has germs, Crowny,” he claims with an eye roll. You raise an eyebrow, “since when do you talk science?” He pushes his hair out of his eyes, “I think that pretty boy is rubbing off on me.” He visibly shudders and you think he looks adorable. “Ok… so since everyone has germs than I guess you wouldn’t mind—” Lorcan groans, “why do you wanna sleep here anyway? I treat you like garbage all the time. I don’t get—” he blows out air and gestures to you, “you, I don’t get you.” You shrug. “I might be a masochist.” Lorcan shakes his head but you see a corner of his mouth rise. He looks from the door to his bed and seems to be contemplating something. He takes a step towards the door but it doesn’t help that the door frame is small and you’re invading it. <<elseif $scarl>>\ He looks at you dumbfounded. “Scared? You think I’m scared of you?” You shrug, “you act like it sometimes.” Lorcan chews on his bottom lip, “I’m scared of you. I think it’s weird to sleep in the same bed though.” “Why?” you ask, even though you know you shouldn’t. As if you couldn’t guess the answer anyway. “Well…,” he crosses his arms and avoids eye contact, “me and your sister were… and you’re her… so it’s weird.” You blink at him. Lorcan sighs, “you know what I mean. People would think it’s weird.” You scoff, “since when do you care what people would think? Isn’t that your whole persona?” He lifts up a hand, “can you just not right now? I’m really fucking tired.” He looks from the door to his bed and seems to be contemplating something. He takes a step towards the door but it doesn’t help that the door frame is small and you’re invading it. <<elseif $pwease>>\ Lorcan covers his ears with his hands. “With a cherry on top?” you plead. “Stop being annoying, it's like eight in the mornin,’” he protests. You frown, “I’m tired too you know. I promise I won’t bug you or steal the blanket or kick or do anything to wake you. You won’t even know I’m there.” Lorcan grinds his teeth, “as if. You’re impossible to ignore.” You stop pleading and stare at him with a dumbfounded expression. Lorcan takes his hands off his ears, “that’s what got you to stop hollering? That I told you you were annoying?” No. //He didn’t mean it in that way//. That’s what you want to believe don’t you? That his words hide a hidden truth that both of you have ignored. Lorcan looks from the door to his bed and seems to be contemplating something. He takes a step towards the door but it doesn’t help that the door frame is small and you’re invading it. <<elseif $annoyl>>\ He raises an eyebrow, “you bother me everyday of the week. You think that threat will work on me anymore? Maybe before when we didn’t spend so much time together.” You narrow your eyes, “maybe. You also underestimate how much of a pain in the ass I can be when I really want to.” Lorcan crosses his arms, “well you underestimate how much I give a fuck. It’s my house and I can just throw you out to sleep in the car.” You smirk, “you wouldn’t do that.” Lorcan uncrosses his arms and your bravado starts to fade when you see how stony his face is. Could he? He takes one step toward and you flinch back, nearly tripping on the risen steel bottom of the door frame. You catch yourself by gripping the door handle. Lorcan smiles and you glare at him. “That wasn’t because of you. I was just going to the car to sleep since it’s probably better than sleeping with Mr. Grumpy ass 1994.” Lorcan looks from the door to his bed and seems to be contemplating something. He takes a step towards the door but it doesn’t help that the door frame is small and you’re invading it. <</if>>\ <<if $Lorcan>>\ His eyes travel down to your chest and he gulps. You look down at the way his band t-shirt clings to your humid skin and when you look up he’s gone to throw the clothes off his bed. “Fuck my life,” he complains. <<else>>\ “That was grandpa’s,” he says. You look down at the pair of tits on your chest and pull at your shirt, it clings to your humid skin. “Your Grandpa was into some strange stuff.” Lorcan smiles as he reads the shirt and goes to throw the clothes off the bed, complaining about how much this sucks for him. <</if>>\ <hr>\ * [[Make to leave|Page 558**][$makel to true]] * [[Flop down on the bed|Page 558**][$flopl to true]] * [[Help him|Page 558**][$helpl to true]] * [[Wait|Page 558**][$waitl to true]] </h3>

<h3><<if $makel>>\ You roll your lips and turn around. “Fine.” <<if $Lorcan>>\ “Wait!” he yells and when you look back you see he’s taken several steps closer. His arm is outstretched, his thin pale fingers hover over your wrist and you are filled with a need to be touched by him. You crave for him to grip you and lead you deeper into his room. He looks down at his fingers and lets his arm drop, curling his hand into a fist by his side. <<else>>\ “Wait!” he yells and when you look back you see he’s taken several steps closer. <</if>>\ “Yeah?” His eyes nervously bounce around your surroundings. “You don’t have to go…” he mumbles. Honestly, when he first says it you can’t exactly hear him for how he says it as if it were a shameful secret he’s revealing. “Really?” you ask, an eyebrow raised. He sighs, “yeah, really. The bed is shit but if you wanna stay you can stay.” He turns his back to you and continues throwing his clothes unceremoniously on the floor. You sniff the air and smell something acrid but you don’t know where it’s coming from. You also smell Lorcan. You don’t think he wears cologne, but there’s a certain smell to him. It’s cigarettes but also mint and rain. Beneath those top notes there’s another one that you can’t quite describe except to say it smells comforting. “You gonna stand there all damn or what?” he asks. You move past him and slide under the covers, on the side cornered in by the wall. <<elseif $flopl>>\ You ignore his pouts and whines, throwing yourself down on the bed and bending your arms underneath your head. When you look at Lorcan’s expression, you smile cheekily. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” he says sarcastically and pulls a pair of boxers from underneath you. “Don’t mind if I do,” you answer with a wink. He huffs in annoyance and by the furrow in his brow you just know that he’s cursing at you in his head. “Your mattress feels nice,” you say and press yourself down into it. “You’re doing this to be a dick,” he claims and throws a pillow at your face. You laugh and move it under your head. “I wouldn’t be a dick if you weren’t being a dick. I just give what you give me.” Lorcan stares at you hard and you feel as if you want to look away from his steely grey eyes but you resolve to stare him down. Eventually he removes all the clothes and stands up straight. You sniff the air and smell something acrid but you don’t know where it’s coming from. You also smell Lorcan. You don’t think he wears cologne, but there’s a certain smell to him. It’s cigarettes but also mint and rain. Beneath those top notes there’s another one that you can’t quite describe except to say it smells comforting. “Stop sniffing, it’s weird,” he says. “As you say, my liege,” you reply with a friendly smile. He rolls his eyes, but there’s not much bite to his expression. <<elseif $helpl>>\ You can’t really say anything to him that isn’t asking for him to please let you sleep here. So, you make yourself useful. You start carefully folding the clothes on his bed. “What are you doing?” he asks, a pair of jeans in his hands. “Are these clothes clean?” you ask. You bring a shirt to your nose. “Don’t do that!” he says and yanks it out of your hands. He lays it on the bed and tries to fold it. “Sorry, I just want to help,” you explain. Lorcan bites his bottom lip as he tries and fails to fold the shirt. He ends up making a noise of frustration and giving it back to you. “Don’t smell them. But yeah they’re clean,” he says. You fold it carefully and Lorcan takes it from you to put on a random suitcase he has. You immediately begin to work on a pair of jeans. “How did you learn how to do that?” he asks, watching your hands. “They made us fold and put away our own clothes at the asylum,” you respond. “If your room was messy you got reprimanded.” “Huh,” he says simply. He watches you until you finish. When he drops the final article of clothing on a chair he motions to the bed. “You wanna get in?” You smile, “sure.” <<elseif $waitl>>\ You endure his bitching and moaning for the next few minutes as he throws his clothes everywhere. Some land on a dresser, others on a chair but most hit the floor along with clothes he already had there. When he’s done he looks at you over his shoulder and steps away from his bed. “You gonna stand there forever?” he asks. “I’m not sure what you want me to do. Do I stay or leave?” you inquire. He looks at you with a grim expression. “Are you trying to be stupid or are you really that oblivious?” <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “Don’t call me stupid,” you reply. “You’re the one complaining, so excuse me for having some common courtesy.” Lorcan looks like he wants to answer just as bitingly as you did. But the indignation in your voice stops him and his irritation dissolves into weariness. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ “Yeah I am stupid,” you reply. “I don’t know what to do. Sorry if I’m annoying you.” Lorcan blinks at you several times and then looks away. “Uh, that’s ok. You don’t have too…” he trails off. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “Don’t call me stupid,” you reply. “You’re the one complaining, so excuse me for having some common courtesy.” Lorcan looks like he wants to answer just as bitingly as you did. But the indignation in your voice stops him and his irritation dissolves into weariness. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ “Yeah I am stupid,” you reply. “I don’t know what to do. Sorry if I’m annoying you.” Lorcan blinks at you several times and then looks away. “Uh, that’s ok. You don’t have too…” he trails off. <</if>> “You can stay here.” He sweeps an arm to the bed and you lay down. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 559**]] </h3>

<h3>He stands there, looking down at you with a pinched expression on his face. His fingers drum nervously on his plaid PJs. “Are you going to get in?” Lorcan bobs his head. “Yeah I’m just…” he grumbles and throws a few pillows in between your small space of the bed and his. He hits them a few times and lays down. “Really?” you ask incredulously. He crosses his arms over his chest and with a lowered brow stares at nothing. “You wanted to sleep here in this small ass bed, the least you can do is not touch me.” “Have it your way,” you sigh and pull the blanket up to your chin. <<if $Lorcan>>\ And you try to sleep, your body is exhausted and you would’ve thought that you would fall asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. But for as much as you count sheep you are keenly aware that he’s so close. You could reach out and touch him if you wanted to. Could run your hands through his unkempt hair. Trail your nails down his stringy arm. Bask in his smell. If you wanted to. <<else>>\ And you try to sleep, your body is exhausted and you would’ve thought that you would fall asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. But for as much as you count sheep you are keenly aware that this situation is out of the ordinary. You’re having a sleepover with Lorcan as if you two were the best of friends. If things were normal it would seem so. <</if>>\ <<if $Lorcan and $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worthless > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worth > $Worthless and $Worth >= 2 and $Worth <= 5>> <hr>\<<set $Worthmid to true>> * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worthless > $Worth and $Worthless >= 2 and $Worthless <= 5>>\ <hr>\<<set $Worthlessmid to true>> * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<else>>\ <hr>\ * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$roomp to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-BPLA**][$betterp to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadp to true]] * [[“Why is your house the only house in the trailer park?”|Page 560-T**][$trailerp to true]] <</if>> </h3>

<h3>It’s nearly suicide. It could —and has a high chance of— destroying the tentative relationship you now have. But you so badly want to feel his skin underneath yours. Even for a moment. A blip in time. You would cherish a second for a lifetime. And so you slowly crawl your hand over on your fingers, dragging yourself after a crumb of affection. Suddenly his hand jerks and he ends up brushing his fingers along yours. It’s fast, barely a millisecond and Lorcan moves his hand to lay underneath the cover. He clears his throat, “sorry. Can’t sleep. I move a shitload.” You can barely hear him over the thundering of your heart in your ears. “Yeah, it’s cool,” you reply, trying to sound as if you, yourself were cool at this moment and not about to burst. “Sorry,” he apologizes again. <<if $Worth > 3>>\ “It’s ok. I don’t mind it,” you say with a thick voice. “Uh, ok,” he replies quickly, an odd squeak to his own voice. <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ You don’t say anything, far too unsure of how your voice will come out. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ “It’s ok. I don’t mind it,” you say with a thick voice. “Uh, ok,” he replies quickly, an odd squeak to his own voice. <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ You don’t say anything, far too unsure of how your voice will come out. <</if>>\ <<if $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * ==Reach out== * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ <hr>\ * ==Reach out== * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ <hr>\ * ==Reach out== * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ <hr>\ * ==Reach out== * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>>\ * ==Reach out== * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You first take note of the posters. The wall is completely covered, a carpet of reds, blues, purples and whites. Some pinks and yellows here and there. Some of the bands you’ve heard of like The Cure, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, etc,. And some others you haven’t such as Bikini Kill, 7 year Bitch, The Gits, Babes in Toyland. Your eyes roam around the discarded wrappers on the dresser, the open shelves with clothes spilling out and random plates here and there. There’s a stack of comic books on the floor and a bike wheel prompted against the wall, a few discarded tools on the floor. You almost miss it. You initially think it’s another poster— although miniature. Perhaps a sticker which Lorcan has scattered around the surfaces of his room. A younger version of yourself looks back at you. You narrow your eyes to see it better. It’s a yearbook picture from the 9th grade. You aren’t smiling of course. The picture is unsmooth from likely being crumpled and straightened over and over again. It’s also riddled with holes, small enough to not damage your face but noticeable enough to say it was a repeated action. You sit up to look at it better and Lorcan follows your gaze. “Oh shit,” he curses and nearly falls off his bed trying to get up. He pulls the picture off the door and crumples it in his hand. “Where did you get that from?” you ask. His Adam’s apple bobs and he seems to be looking for a place to throw it. “I forgot I had it,” he frets, moving around the room to presumably look for a trash can. “But like why do you have it?” you ask again. “I don’t fucking–!” he squeezes his eyes shut. The fist in which your picture lies, is shaking. “Can you just forget you saw that?” “Lorcan—” “Please?” he asks timidly. <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “Of course,” you say gently. “It’s ok. I don’t want to make you feel bad.” Lorcan sucks on his top lip and stands rigid in the middle of the room. “I don’t know what to do.” You pat the bed. “Just put it anywhere and lay down.” <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ You bite your tongue. You feel a thunderous laugh will burst from your mouth. You fix your face into a look you hope comes off as niceness, “I don’t mind. Come back to the bed.” Lorcan sucks on his top lip and stands rigid in the middle of the room. “I feel weird now.” //You should, you obsessed freak,// you think with delight. How delicious indeed. “It’s alright, hide it somewhere I won’t look.” <</if>>\ Lorcan hesitates from a moment longer which feels like eternity before he unzips an old pencil case and puts the picture instead. He swiftly comes back to bed and pulls the cover up to his chin. He also not so subtly raises up the pillow in between both of your faces to prevent you from seeing him. You’re both silent for several seconds. The tension is as thick as honey. <hr>\ * [[“You can keep it.”|Page 560-RINT][$keeppic to true]] * [[“Throw it away.”|Page 560-RINT]] </h3>

<h3>“Thanks,” you say. “For what?” You feel yourself smile as you rub the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. “The shirt is nice.” “Oh.” You rack your brain for something to say. It’s so strange trying to have a civil conversation with Lorcan. Like learning how to ride a bike. “I’ve never heard of this band,” you say to the aether. “They’re cool. I found it in a Goodwill,” he states. “I wouldn’t wanna even see my worst enemy wearing my Gramps’ tit shirt. You? Even less.” Your heart thumps. “I thought I was your worst enemy?” You feel him shift, “um. Yeah that’s what I mean. I wouldn’t wanna see my worst enemy —you— in my Gramps’ shirt.” Would it be delusional to believe the awkwardness in his voice is his tell of a lie? <<if $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * ==Thank him for the shirt== * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * ==Thank him for the shirt== * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * ==Thank him for the shirt== * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * ==Thank him for the shirt== * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * ==Thank him for the shirt== * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $lorcanm>>\ “About what?” he asks, his voice strange. “James.” The name rings out loud in the room, metaphorically bouncing off the walls. Lorcan lets out a shaky breath, “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. You know I didn’t want to, right?” “Of course—” “Cause I wasn’t thinking!” he explodes and sits up, covering his face. “He was going to kill you and I just wanted to get him off… I swear I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to.” He keeps repeating those lines, mumbling them into his hands. You feel like reaching out but when your fingers barely make contact with his shoulders and flinches away. “Don’t. Don’t give me that shit,” he whispers thickly. “What shit?” you ask. “I deserve it. Why the fuck did you remind me?!” he yells and uncovers his face, glaring at you. His eyes are red, tears fall down his cheeks. “I—” “I DON’T WANNA THINK ABOUT IT OK?! I DON’T EVER WANNA THINK ABOUT THAT SHIT EVER AGAIN!” he screams into your face. “Lorcan calm down—” “DON’T FUCKING TELL ME—” he’s cut off as you clamp your hand over his mouth. His hot tears run down your hand. “Lorcan,” you whisper urgently, “you’ll wake up your Grandma.” His chest rises and falls and you know you should focus on how he’s feeling but you’re distracted by how his breath feels on your palm. He moves his face away and lets out a tiny whine. “I fucking killed James,” he whispers into his fingers. If you knew he would react like this you wouldn’t have said anything. Perhaps repression is safe for now. “You saved my life Lorcan,” you reply. “That’s what you did.” He shakes his head and cries. His silent tears sliding down his face in seemingly never-ending streams. “I’m a piece of shit,” he says brokenly. You sigh. How do you comfort him? “I’m gonna smoke in here,” he informs you and before you can respond he reaches over to his desk for a crumpled packet. He lights up with shaky hands. <hr>\ * [[Ask if you can have one|Page 560-CINT][$cigshare to true]] * [[Get an ashtray for him|Page 560-CINT]] <<else>>\ “About what?” he asks, his voice strange. “James.” The name rings out loud in the room, metaphorically bouncing off the walls. Lorcan lifts his head to look at you over the pillows. “He was gonna kill you right?” You nod. “He was an asshole and a bully. He shoved my face into a locker freshman year and made fun of the kids who ride the short bus,” he explains. He rubs his cheek, “I didn’t want him to die though. But like it was between you and him. So I guess… I’m not mad that you’re not dead.” Your mouth is ajar as you look at him, he’s looking at the furthest wall, his cheeks starting to heat up. “Self defence, right?” Lorcan asks, his voice higher than usual. “Yeah,” you reply. “I wasn't like happy about it. And I don’t want it to happen again but I’m not—” he cuts off and seems to choose his next words carefully, something rare for him. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit for doing that.” That’s the closest you’ll get as a compliment and from anyone else it would be the bare minimum but this is Lorcan. A few weeks ago he would’ve used this to call you a monster. “Wanna smoke?” he asks, already reaching for the packet on the desk. He lights up and offers you one. <hr>\ * [[Accept|Page 560-CINT][$cigshare2 to true]] * [[Decline|Page 560-CINT]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>“So about—” “I wanted to—” You both stop talking. “Yea?” you ask him. Lorcan exhales deeply and the seconds stretch on. You feel as if on the top of a rollercoaster. When you plunge down to Earth will you land safely? “My dad was… he was… not the best guy ever,” he admits, the words feel like they’re a struggle to get out. “No,” you agree, “he wasn’t.” “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah,” he says again. “What were you gonna say?” he asks. This is the closest Lorcan can get to admitting his dad is a murderer. He’s trying for the first time ever to confront the lies he created to protect the vision of the family he had growing up. “Nothing. I just wanted to say that the pillow is nice. Good support and all that,” you say. “O…K,” he replies. <<if $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * ==Talk about his dad== * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * ==Talk about his dad== * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<else>>\ <hr>\ * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$roomp to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-BPLA**][$betterp to true]] * ==Talk about his dad== * [[“Why is your house the only house in the trailer park?”|Page 560-T**][$trailerp to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $orlal>>\ It might be a good thing that the pillows prevent you from seeing his face and him from seeing yours. “Orla would’ve killed me,” he says. You’re surprised when you hear him laugh. “She would’ve killed both of us.” You feel your lips stretch out into a smile, “definitely.” “Before… all the shit went down with my parents, she always wanted me to hate your guts,” he confesses, “said I had to.” “But did you?” He doesn’t respond and then props himself up to look down at you. “I shaked my head but forgot you can’t see me.” “So I’m guessing that’s a no on my question,” you reply. You see a flash of what looks like shame in his eyes. “Probably not. I’m doing all of this to find out what happened to her. If she was still alive I would be with her.” //And not you.// The silent part is loud in between you. Your chest gets an ugly feeling that you swallow to quell. “Life is strange, huh?” he asks. “Very,” you say, your teeth aching from how hard you’re pressing them together. He looks at you for a long moment and you look at him. His eyes flutter before he lays back down. <<elseif $orlalw>>\ In this bed with him. Did she sleep on your side? Did they have sex here? Did he wish she was the one here and not you? Probably. The only reason he’s hanging around you is because of the investigation. He could never see you on the same scale that he has her. She’s unreachable and you’re not even considered in the running. If Orla’s ghost is out there somewhere, she’s laughing. You can practically hear her: //did you honestly think he could ever look twice at you? When he had me? You’re either stupid or pathetic.// “You asleep?” Lorcan’s voice rips you out of your increasingly dark thoughts. “No.” “I can’t sleep either,” he replies. You can feel your sister here so deeply, if you closed your eyes you could visually see her laying on the row of pillows. Just because you’re lying where she laid and Lorcan isn’t actively being cruel doesn’t mean anything. He’s tolerating you for her sake. You feel a sour taste in your mouth. <</if>>\ [[NEXT|Page 561**]] </h3>

<h3>“Huh?” “Yeah. Why don’t you live in a trailer?” you ask. He eyes you suspiciously, “are you trying to be an asshole?” You scoff, “I’m just asking a question. I’m not trying to say your house sucks or that you should live in a trailer. Not everything is an attack.” He blows out some air. “The house is old. Like really fucking old. It was here before it became a trailer park. My Gran says it was built by my great-great-great Grandpa.” “It doesn’t look like the style of the homes in the 19th century,” you say doubtfully. Lorcan shrugs, “I don’t know anything about that, maybe it’s been renovated a few times. My dad’s family were builders.” “The old mayor wanted to buy the plot but Grandma put her foot down, said she ain’t ever leaving Camelot nor the house to be bulldozed.” “Do you like living here?” you ask. Lorcan shrugs again, “it’s fine. The roads aren’t paved and there’s trash everywhere but it’s home. I can’t ever see myself living in those fancy neighborhoods.” [[NEXT|Page 561-1**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $keeppic>>\ Lorcan looks shocked. “What?” You nod, “yeah, keep it. I don’t have any use for it anyway. Clearly you had use for it.” Lorcan looks even more confused. “I used your face as a dartboard and you want me to keep doing it?” You grin, “well when you say it like that it sounds weird. But yeah. Keep it. At least it’s useful for something cause I don’t need pictures of myself.” Lorcan keeps staring at you so long that you take another pillow from under you and use it to block his eyesight from yours. <<else>>\ Lorcan looks like he expected that. “Yeah.” “You hated me that much you played darts with my face?” you ask. “Well no duh.” “Where did you even get it from?” “I stole a yearbook,” he replies. “Why?” “Just cause, Crowny.” You question his logic but don’t press it further. <</if>>\ <<if $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-B**][$betterl to true]] * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Lorcan and $Worth == $Worthless and $Worth > 0>>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <</if>> <<else>>\ <hr>\ * ==Look at the things he has in his room== * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-BPLA**][$betterp to true]] * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadp to true]] * [[“Why is your house the only house in the trailer park?”|Page 560-T**][$trailerp to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $lorcanm>>\ “About what?” he asks, his voice strange. “James.” The name rings out loud in the room, metaphorically bouncing off the walls. Lorcan lets out a shaky breath, “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. You know I didn’t want to, right?” “Of course—” “Cause I wasn’t thinking!” he explodes and sits up, covering his face. “He was going to kill you and I just wanted to get him off… I swear I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to.” He keeps repeating those lines, mumbling them into his hands. You feel like reaching out but when your fingers barely make contact with his shoulders and flinches away. “Don’t. Don’t give me that shit,” he whispers thickly. “What shit?” you ask. “I deserve it. Why the fuck did you remind me?!” he yells and uncovers his face, glaring at you. His eyes are red, tears fall down his cheeks. “I—” “I DON’T WANNA THINK ABOUT IT OK?! I DON’T EVER WANNA THINK ABOUT THAT SHIT EVER AGAIN!” he screams into your face. “Lorcan calm down—” “DON’T FUCKING TELL ME—” he’s cut off as you clamp your hand over his mouth. His hot tears run down your hand. “Lorcan,” you whisper urgently, “you’ll wake up your Grandma.” He moves his face away and lets out a tiny whine. “I fucking killed James,” he whispers into his fingers. If you knew he would react like this you wouldn’t have said anything. Perhaps repression is safe for now. “You saved my life Lorcan,” you reply. “That’s what you did.” He shakes his head and cries. His silent tears sliding down his face in seemingly never-ending streams. “I’m a piece of shit,” he says brokenly. You sigh. How do you comfort him? “I’m gonna smoke in here,” he informs you and before you can respond he reaches over to his desk for a crumpled packet. He lights up with shaky hands. <hr>\ * [[Ask if you can have one|Page 560-CINT][$cigshare to true]] * [[Get an ashtray for him|Page 560-CINT]] <<else>>\ “About what?” he asks, his voice strange. “James.” The name rings out loud in the room, metaphorically bouncing off the walls. Lorcan lifts his head to look at you over the pillows. “He was gonna kill you right?” You nod. “He was an asshole and a bully. He shoved my face into a locker freshman year and made fun of the kids who ride the short bus,” he explains. He rubs his cheek, “I didn’t want him to die though. But like it was between you and him. So I guess… I’m not mad that you’re not dead.” Your mouth is ajar as you look at him, he’s looking at the furthest wall, his cheeks starting to heat up. “Self defence, right?” Lorcan asks, his voice higher than usual. “Yeah,” you reply. “I wasn't like happy about it. And I don’t want it to happen again but I’m not—” he cuts off and seems to choose his next words carefully, something rare for him. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit for doing that.” That’s the closest you’ll get as a compliment and from anyone else it would be the bare minimum but this is Lorcan. A few weeks ago he would’ve used this to call you a monster. “Wanna smoke?” he asks, already reaching for the packet on the desk. He lights up and offers you one. <hr>\ * [[Accept|Page 560-CINT][$cigshare to true]] * [[Decline|Page 560-CINT]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $cigshare>>\ <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ “Don’t you have yours?” Lorcan asks. “Nah. I think it fell somewhere in the woods,” you explain. Lorcan searches in his pack and takes out a cigarette that’s crushed. “Shit,” he mumbles. You take it from him and dump the tobacco near the filter on the floor. “What are you doing?” “Just watch,” you reply while twisting the end of the cigarette into the emptied paper. “And voila,” you claim. You hand it back to him and Lorcan marvels at his now intact cigarette. “How do you know how to do that?” he asks. “Things you learn at the hospital. Turns out if you’re mentally ill enough you pick up some vices and since no one will hire you, you have to create ways to save money,” you explain. Lorcan sniffs, his nose still stuffed. He wipes at his eye and hands you the cigarette back. He lights his and hands you his trusty lighter. The rich woody taste of tobacco seems like a cooling agent on the rage of emotions recently felt. You sit there, a dirty mug in between you two and silently smoke. A few tears still escape Lorcan, but he’s calmed down enough that his hands aren’t shaking. Without words you both decided it’s best to leave this topic for now. <<else>>\ “You’re not a smoker,” he says. “It’s been a hard few hours,” you explain. Lorcan searches in his pack and takes out a cigarette that’s crushed. “Shit,” he mumbles. “There goes that plan,” you say. Lorcan lights his cigarette, takes a long drag and hands it to you. You raise an eyebrow and he pushes it to you, nearly singeing your shirt. “Don’t hog it,” he insists. You take a small drag and cough, handing it back to him. Lorcan looks at the filter and seems hesitant. He’s probably thinking what you’re thinking— your mouth was on there. Lorcan says something under his breath and quickly takes a drag, giving it back to you. “Take the rest if you want.” He puts a dirty mug in between you as an ashtray. He looks at the posters on his walls as you silently smoke next to him. A few tears still escape Lorcan, but he’s calmed down enough that his hands aren’t shaking. Without words you both decided it’s best to leave this topic for now. When you’re done he throws the cigarette into the mug and leaves it on his desk. <</if>>\ <<elseif $cigshare2>>\ <<if $vice is 'smoking'>>\ “Don’t you have yours?” Lorcan asks. “Nah. I think it fell somewhere in the woods,” you explain. Lorcan searches in his pack and takes out a cigarette that’s crushed. “Shit,” he mumbles. You take it from him and dump the tobacco near the filter on the floor. “What are you doing?” “Just watch,” you reply while twisting the end of the cigarette into the emptied paper. “And voila,” you claim. You hand it back to him and Lorcan marvels at his now intact cigarette. “How do you know how to do that?” he asks. “Things you learn at the hospital. Turns out if you’re mentally ill enough you pick up some vices and since no one will hire you, you have to create ways to save money,” you explain. He lights his and hands you his trusty lighter. The rich woody taste of tobacco seems like a cooling agent on the rage of emotions recently felt. You sit there, a dirty mug in between you two and silently smoke. A few tears still escape Lorcan, but he’s calmed down enough that his hands aren’t shaking. Without words you both decided it’s best to leave this topic for now. <<else>>\ “You actually want to? Thought you would say no cause you’re not a smoker,” he says. “It’s been a hard few hours,” you explain. Lorcan searches in his pack and takes out a cigarette that’s crushed. “Shit,” he mumbles. “There goes that plan,” you say. Lorcan lights his cigarette, takes a long drag and hands it to you. You raise an eyebrow and he pushes it to you, nearly singeing your shirt. “Don’t hog it,” he insists. You take a small drag and cough, handing it back to him. Lorcan looks at the filter and seems hesitant. He’s probably thinking what you’re thinking— your mouth was on there. Lorcan says something under his breath and quickly takes a drag, giving it back to you. “Take the rest if you want.” He puts a dirty mug in between you as an ashtray. He looks at the posters on his walls as you silently smoke next to him. When you’re done he throws the cigarette into the mug and leaves it on his desk. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You look around and find a dirty chipped mug on the desk. You place it near him, nudging his leg with it. <<if $lorcanm>>\ He lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. The rich woody taste of tobacco seems like a cooling agent on the rage of emotions recently felt. You sit there with him, a dirty mug in between you two and silent smoke going up into the ceiling. A few tears still escape Lorcan, but he’s calmed down enough that his hands aren’t shaking. Without words you both decided it’s best to leave this topic for now. <<else>>\ He lights his cigarette. The rich woody taste of tobacco seems like a cooling agent on the tense range of topics recently unearthed. You sit there with him, a dirty mug in between you two and silent smoke going up into the ceiling. <</if>>\ When he’s done he throws the cigarette into the mug and leaves it on his desk. <</if>>\ <<if $Worth > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * ==Ask him if he’s better== * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * ==Ask him if he’s better== * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * ==Ask him if he’s better== * [[Talk about his dad|Page 560-D**][$dadl to true]] * [[“If Orla hadn’t died, do you think we would’ve been here right now, together?”|Page 560-O**][$orlal to true]] <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ <hr>\ * [[Reach out|Page 560**][$reachl to true]] * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$rooml to true]] * [[Thank him for the shirt|Page 560-S**][$shirtl to true]] * ==Ask him if he’s better== * [[You wonder how many times Orla was here|Page 560-O**][$Page 560-O**][$orlalw to true]] <<else>>\ <hr>\ * [[Look at the things he has in his room|Page 560-R**][$roomp to true]] * [[Ask him if he’s better|Page 560-BPLA**][$betterp to true]] * ==Talk about his dad== * [[“Why is your house the only house in the trailer park?”|Page 560-T**][$trailerp to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>It’s silent once more. It doesn’t feel oppressive as it would’ve before you’ve gotten to know him better than you do now. It feels comfortable like a big old sweater. It feels like this house in spite of the fact that a man is tied in the basement. “Fuck,” Lorcan abruptly curses and covers his face, rubbing his hand up and down. When he throws his arms back to encircle his head he has his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Fuck.” <<if $Ethical > 3>>\ “Penny for your thoughts, blondie?” you ask. He doesn’t even get angry, he really must be going through it. <<elseif $Corrupt > 3>>\ “Penny for your thoughts, wet cat?” you ask. “Fuck you,” he says without much strength. <<elseif $amorality>>\ “Penny for your thoughts, Lorcan?” you ask. He ignores you. <</if>>\ He gets up and swings his legs down from the bed, his back turned to you. His shoulders are hunched and he seems to be pulling at his hair. You prop yourself up on your elbow. “Lorcan—” “Can you just fucking—” he groans angrily. Then he lets out a shaky breath and says, “just let me say something, ok?” Your eyebrows rise. What the fuck is wrong? [[NEXT|Page 561-1**]] </h3>

<h3><<if $Worth > 3>>\ Is he having a breakthrough? Finally? Is it possible that he sees you for the —frankly amazing— person you are and not the monster that haunts his dreams? <<elseif $Worthless > 3>>\ Is it something bad? Is he going to go on a rant about how horrible you are? You don’t think you can take it right now. Not when you are finally so close to him. You wish he couldn’t see you for what you are. <<elseif $Worthmid>>\ Is he having a breakthrough? Finally? Is it possible that he sees you for the —frankly amazing— person you are and not the monster that haunts his dreams? <<elseif $Worthlessmid>>\ Is it something bad? Is he going to go on a rant about how horrible you are? You don’t think you can take it right now. Not when you are finally so close to him. You wish he couldn’t see you for what you are. <</if>>\ It feels like time ticks on as slow as molasses. You feel you’re waiting with bated breath for a gavel to come crashing down. This moment feels as if it could change something between you two. But in what way? “I didn’t mean it,” he says in a voice so low you thought you didn’t hear him well. You extend your arm to lean up higher, “huh?” “That shit I said at the party before… all the rest of the shit. I didn’t meant it,” he says slowly as if the words are like glass in his mouth. You’re so stunned you don’t even bother to correct his grammar. “You said a lot of shit. You’ll have to be more specific.” Lorcan sighs and rubs his face over and over again. His shoulders are as rigid as cement and you feel any moment of yours will make him bolt like a scared raccoon. You try to hold everything still, even your breath. “Lorcan?” “I’M TRYING, OK?!” he exclaims. “It’s not easy for me to…” he trails off and hits the side of his head. “Just say it pussy.” He sits up straight but doesn’t look at you. You can only see the side of his eye from this position. “About my dad. About not forgiving you ever. That’s what I’m talking about,” he falters. “Maybe it doesn’t mean shit to you know with everything and maybe I’m not that fucking important to you at all so you might not give a rat’s ass but I just wanted you to know that.” He speeds through the words as if he’s being timed and so you only register what he says after a few seconds. “You’re forgiving me?” you ask, your eyes as wide as saucers. He rolls his head around, “I didn’t say that.” “But you could?” “For fuck’s sake, YEAH. I COULD, HAPPY?” he asks, once again going into his default grumpy mood. <<if $Lorcan>>\ <hr>\ * [[♥ “Thank you.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues to true]] * [[♥ “I’m sorry but i don’t think i need to be forgiven.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues2 to true]] * [[♡ “Took you long enough.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues3 to true]] * [[♡ “I didn’t do shit to be forgiven for.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues4 to true]] <<elseif $LorcanP>>\ * [[⟡ “I didn’t do anything wrong.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues5 to true]] * [[⟡ “That means a lot.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues6 to true]] * [[⟡ “I do care.”|Page 562-L**][$Lissues7 to true]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3><<if $Lissues>>\ You feel your throat swell and the urge to do something, to release it somehow. What you did to him has weighed on you for so long. Your words had a domino effect and Lorcan’s life being ruined has given you many a sleepless night. He had every right to look at you with disgust. “The fact that you can…” you swallow, “it means a lot.” <set $LorcanRF += 2>> Lorcan chuckles awkwardly, “it’s really nothing, um, like don’t sweat it, Crowny.” Your heart contracts. Even now he’s being modest. You realize that out of all the poor choices you’ve made in your life, getting close to Lorcan has been one of your best. You look at him gravely, “it means a lot to me.” Lorcan looks from your eyes down to your lips and then looks away, his mouth tense. “Whatever.” <<elseif $Lissues2>>\ Lorcan glares at you, ready to strike verbally when you hold up a hand. “Look, we have never agreed on this, and I think that’s the reason for our friction. I didn’t say this because I want to fight with you or that I’m ungrateful because I know how hard this is for you to say.” “It’s not,” he pouts. <set $LorcanRF += 2>> “It is,” you insist. “So I really appreciate the fucking effort. I just don’t agree that I need to be absolved for anything. I didn’t know what would happen, I didn’t have a crystal ball.” Lorcan pout becomes deeper, “I’m tryin’ to do something nice and you make me feel like shit. Classic.” You aim to touch his arms but think better of it and give him a kind smile, “that wasn’t my intention. I know how much this means to me. So, thank you for doing this even if we don’t see it the same.” Lorcan huffs, “I guess agree to disagree?” “Sure,” you acquiesce. <<elseif $Lissues3>>\ “WELL SORRY!” he retorts, “I was going through my momma’s death.” You crack a smile, “yeah but it’s been years of you being a complete ass to me. Can’t blame me for pointing that out.” “Shit, it has been a long time,” Lorcan considers. “Time passed really fast.” You punch him on the shoulder, “but thanks. You dug your heels in for an annoyingly long time but at least it happened.” He looks at you strangely. “You have a weird ass way of saying thanks.” You shrug, “I like to take every chance of fucking with you.”<set $LorcanRA += 2>> Lorcan groans, “now you’re gonna be extra annoying cause now you think I wanna be friends.” //Friends//, is not good enough for what you want from him. “You’re getting to know me so well,” you laugh. <<elseif $Lissues4>>\ Lorcan wipes his head around and looks at you with wide eyes. “The fuck is wrong with you?” You lay your head down and smile, “many things but that’s not what we’re talking about right now. We’re talking about what’s wrong with you. I don’t need to be forgiven like you’re a saint for something I never said sorry for cause I didn’t do shit.” “You’re so fucking annoying,” he grumbles. “You say I’m an asshole and when I’m trying not to be an asshole you act like this.” “Look, Lorcan this is just something we don’t agree on, ok? But I also don’t want to fight anymore. So for the first time ever I’m gonna suggest that we just be grownups and leave it at that,” you say. Lorcan glares at you for a few more seconds before letting his anger relent to his exhaustion. “You know I would want to take what I said back but I’m literally close to falling asleep so fine, if you stop chatting my ear off then I will let you have your wrong opinion.” You smirk. “Oh, Lorcan.”<set $LorcanRA += 2>> <<elseif $Lissues5>>\ Lorcan’s glare could kill. You shrug, “I’ve always thought that. And my mind hasn’t changed, sorry if you expected me to be grateful that you want to forgive me for something I had no control over.” He growls in a low voice, and looks away. “Why do you gotta make everything so damn hard? Can’t you just say ‘thanks’?” You smile, “that would be admitting to it. I do think it’s pretty cool that you’re willing to do this for me.” “It isn’t for you,” he quickly says. “It’s for my Gran. It would make her happy.” //Sure it is,// you think. He looks over his shoulder at you and asks, “why are you smiling at me like that?” Your smile becomes wider, “for no reason.” Lorcan looks unconvinced. <<elseif $Lissues6>>\ Lorcan eyes your smile. “Really?” “Yes. I never thought you would say that to me. I wanted you to, don’t get me wrong,” you say. “So, you like… think it’s your fault?” he asks. You look at him confused, “haven’t you’ve been saying that all this time? That’s it’s my fault?” “Yeah but there’s me saying and then there’s you believing it. I thought that you thought you didn’t do anything,” he explains. “Well, now you can see how wrong you were,” you say. “I’ve blamed myself for a long time,” you whisper. Lorcan studies your expression, his face a mixture of confusion and more importantly— shame. He finally sees how much his words have affected you. “Thank you, really Lorcan, thank you,” you say seriously. Lorcan’s neck turns pink and he looks away. “Don’t mention it.” <<elseif $Lissues7>>\ He looks at you. “About what?” “I care about what you think of me,” you confess. Lorcan’s eyes widen in shock, “what?” “Yeah. I do. I acted like I didn’t this whole time because I didn’t want you to see how it affected me but your opinion of me… isn’t unimportant,” you maintain. Lorcan lets out a noise that’s a cross between a laugh and an expelling of air. “I’m a poor fuck who sells dope and you care about what I?” “Yes,” you reply quickly. Lorcan’s face is a mask of confusion. At a certain point he even looks a bit angry. “You’re an asshole,” he declares and falls back on the bed. “An asshole who thinks your opinion matters,” you affirm. “Stooooopppppp,” he drags out. You laugh at how he covers his face with a pillow, and you lay back down. <</if>>\ <<if $homel>>\ Lorcan asks, “do you still have my knife?” “Yea, why? Want it back?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Nah. You need it more. Just don’t do stupid shit like stab someone.” “Is that your way of asking me to be safe?” you ask, with a quivering mouth. “Sure,” he relents and he ignores your shocked face as he settles back down on the bed. <<else>>\ He settles back down on the bed. You lay back down too. “Is your neck gonna be ok?” he asks. “I think so, I can still talk. Raspy but that’s something,” you state. “Cool.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” <</if>>\ “Crowny?” he says, unsure. “Yeah?” You hear the noise of people coming alive outside his window. The steps on the gravel, the words that are too low to make out and slammed doors. Your eyes feel heavy. “Goodnight. Actually, good-day I guess,” he states. <<if $Lorcan>>\ “You too, Lorcan,” you reply with a smile he can’t see. And the thin pillows don’t seem to do anything to separate you. You can almost feel his arm brush against yours. Both of your hands lay on the same pillow, inches away from one another and yet, all you would have to do is slightly jerk a finger and you would finally connect with him. But the enormity of that choice paralyzes your fingers; you conform yourself with this. To be near him. To be allowed by him. To be as close as you can without fighting. You won’t kid yourself, you two will likely still banter and argue but it won’t be the same, it CAN’T be after today. It’s like crossing a rope across Niagara Falls. Your arms are outstretched and the wind is threatening to push you over. And so you hold on and do not touch him. <<else>>\ “You too, Lorcan,” you reply with a smile he can’t see. <</if>>\ <<if $detectivepoints > 15>>\ [[NEXT|Page 563**]] <<else>>\ [[Page 563]] <</if>>\ </h3>

<h3>You don’t know what wakes you up but suddenly your eyes open and you sit up. Lorcan lies on his back, his mouth open as low snores come out. You look around to see if there’s a clock anywhere when you hear the front door close. It’s a gentle close and if you weren’t so perceptive you wouldn’t have heard it. That door has a screen door in front of it that would slam it let go. Someone deliberately closed it gently to not make any noise. It could be out of courtesy to not wake the sleepers in the house. But… You slide out of the bed and walk to the door. You open it and peek out. Then you walk into the hall and softly make your way to the window, facing the front of the house. You hear a car door shut and Imre suddenly appears, walking along the front of the house with paper in his hand. You duck down and speed walk back to Lorcan’s room. Shutting the door right as the front door opens. You quietly back away from the door and slip onto the bed. Your mind races with the image of the papers. They were frayed edges, that meant ripped out. But why would Imre need pages? Why would he wake up while everyone else was asleep to get them from the car? Where did the pages come from? A book? Your thoughts follow you into your dreams. [[NEXT|Page 563]] </h3>