Author's Note: Well...Uh, yeah. Nina gives off some obvious yandere vibes, though I know they wouldn't really go that route with the game. Or would they? I didn't expect Nathaniel's thing to really be a thing...Eh, either way here's Yandere!Nina. I figured why not. Worthless, mediocre, aimless, disjointed, pathetic crappity crap crap. Featuring Manga!Candy and Game!Candy to boost the body count.
Unfortunate implications and violence ahead. Also a little bit of slight necrophilic stuff o_e'
i'm here trying not to bite your neck
but it's beautiful and i'm gonna get
so drunk on you and kill your friends
— kyla la grunge
Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue and one of the most admirable traits exemplified by her beloved. Nina models herself after him both to better herself and to take one step closer to being someone he will be proud of.
She embraces patience, she waits and watches from a distance, giving herself time to observe, deliberate and plan. She watches from afar even now, up in a tree with a pair of binoculars. Lysander is in science class right now, looking good enough to die for in a lab coat while his eyes run over his notes. She's gotten good at climbing trees, it's the only way she can watch him in his apartment.
He's even more lovely to look at there, all his mannerisms relaxed as he falls into his home routine. Sometimes he sits at the windowsill and gazes out with soft, dreamer's eyes and she can imagine that he sees here there in between the branches and watches her as longingly as she watches him. Sometimes she pretends he extends his hand and beckons her to come through the window and join him.
That's what she wants more than anything. To join Lysander. To be by his side and thread her fingers with his. She wants to press herself to him so flush the lines between whose skin is whose will disappear. She wants to kiss him until his breath is her very own and marry him in a swan-white victorian wedding gown.
Lynn gets up from the table she sits at with her lab partner and walks over to Lysander's table. Even though Nina's been getting better at lip reading, she still can't tell what they're saying. But she doesn't need to know the words to know that Lynn is in the way.
She's of the biggest problems that keeps Nina from being with Lysander, not just her, but her entire species of those who get between her and Lysander. Lysander doesn't even notice her when these people get in her way and steal him for themselves. Stupid Lynn, stupid, idiot Lynn thinks she loves Lysander.
Nina knows she thinks that, she knows, she knew it the second both her and her sister agreed to join the Lysander FanClub. Her blood boils with rage just looking at Lynn through the window, her big eyes batting cluelessly behind those goofy goggles.
Lynn knows nothing about love, nothing. Neither does her stupid sister, Candy who's just as bad. They think they love Lysander? Ha! No, no, Nina loves Lysander. They have no idea what it means to truly love him, they don't understand what it means to care about him from the depths of their souls, to dedicate every heartbeat to him and him alone.
They could never imagine the warmth that envelops her just following his suave footsteps as he gets lost on his way home. They can't fathom the agonizing pain of him being so far out of her reach, so sharp it shreds her down to her core. They don't even know what his sheets smell like, his wonderful cotton sheets washed with just the right amount of fabric softener.
When she misses so much she can feel her heart crumble into the sticky parts of her stomach she'll go to his apartment if he and Leigh are gone (she was following him once when he took a walk through the park and dropped his key, she'd fished it out of the bush and kept it ever since) and throw herself onto his bed just so she can lie there knowing he has lied there, wrap herself in the blankets that have embraced him because she cannot embrace him, and inhale his scent.
Sometimes she'll watch for when Lysander leaves and will go inside instead of following him, so she can cocoon herself in the blankets and feel the warmth of his body where he was just moments before.
It comforts her. It makes her feel like she's just a little bit closer to her, but it pales in comparison to the real sensation of his arms around her. He does hug her back sometimes, he'll hug her back or pat her head and she never wants these moments to end but they always do.
One day though, one day soon, they won't.
Patience will have its payoff.
Nina has been studying. Well, studying things aside from Lysander that is. Anatomy, namely. Where the major arteries are. Where the most delicate places in the body are. Nina is small. And being small can make bringing down large prey hard, it's why wolves hunt in packs. But Nina is not a wolf.
She is a human who albeit small, is large enough to exert enough force to break a kneecap with the swing of a sledgehammer or something of the like. If she puts all her strength into it, she can sever a spinal chord with an axe. This she has studied, this she has learned. She's studied away in the back of the library, always reading books about things like anatomy and butchery and successful serial killers because books are harder to trail than internet searches.
It's unlikely that Nina will become a suspect at all, given how careful she's going to be. Her tiny, unassuming frame which hinders her in other ways will come of use here. But just to be on the safe side, she never checks the books out. She only sits and reads, sits and reads. She's been sitting and reading since she realized what she has to do. The only thing she can do. If she wants to be with Lysander, she needs to get the others who interfere with her love for him out of his life. It's the only solution there is.
It won't be easy. It will be a challenge but Lysander is worth a challenge. Lysander is worth everything. When it's all over and done with and his precious hand holds hers, the vast distance that separates them now only a fading bad dream, it will all be worth every single drop of sweat she'll have to shed.
.
Nina keeps her distance as she follows Lysander down the street. Sometimes she skips across the distance and greets him with a hug, but today it's better to be unnoticed. He's meeting up with Castiel and he'd politely ask her to let him be on his way if she were to do so.
Castiel is at the top of her list.
She debated back and fourth between putting him there at all. He isn't a love rival like Lynn or Candy, nor a potential love rival like Rosalya (even if she is with Leigh, she's around Lysander too often and she's so beautiful that even Nina is attracted to her; taken or not, Rosalya is a hazard), but he does take up a lot of Lysander's time.
Too much of Lysander's time. He's a distraction and an obstacle just like the girls, and so he needs to go.
Nina slows her stride and lets the gap between her and Lysander grow wider as he continues on to Castiel's house. The streets get less busy as they lead into blocks and less people means less cover for her to blend in with.
Castiel is at the top of her list because even if he's the least dangerous in the sense that he can't actually hook Lysander through the heart, he's the most dangerous in that he's almost twice Nina's size.
Even though she's learned where to hit and what to use, be that weapon or tactics, she still needs to tread with caution. She's never hurt anyone before. She's practiced swinging the axe in the garage but that's not the same as actually slicing into a person with it.
And then of course, if she is successful, she has to take care of the body. She'd have to chop it into pieces to be able to carry it and that would make a mess. On a better note, she already has a few places in mind to dump it.
The water. She has a small, inflatable boat. There's also the woods. She has a shovel too.
But she's not there yet, of course. You can't get rid of a body that isn't there. She still isn't even sure if she's going to use the axe, though she doesn't exactly have a lot of other options. Aside from the axe, a crowbar and kitchen knives are all she has to work with.
Getting lost in her thoughts has caused Nina to lose focus. Lysander has nearly reached Castiel's home and as soon as he does, she needs to be ready to leave. She stops walking and follows him the rest of the way up the block with her gaze only.
A car in the driveway catches her attention.
She grins and turns on her heel, skipping jovially down the street as a new idea blooms in her head.
.
People tamper with cars in the movies all the time. In romances the culprit is a jealous ex, in action movies it's a ripped avenger, in soap operas it's a matriarch back from the dead with her memories altered or a conspiracy on her shoulders. Real life is nothing like the movies, but Nina is willing to try it out.
There's a manual in the glove compartment of her mother's car that shows you what is wear and gives you instructions on how to get to everything, with some basic mechanic lessons thrown in.
She fingers through the index until she finds the section about the brakes. She flips to it, reads, rereads, rereads again. It's tricky and a little confusing, but she makes notes. She goes to the library and reads more about cars in general, more about the parts in particular.
This will actually work out really well. Young people die in car accidents all the time. Everyone cries but no one bats an eye because that's just how it is. No one will investigate the matter. He'll get an obituary and maybe a school memorial that emphasizes the tragedy of a life cut short. There might be an assembly about road safety, but murder won't touch a breath of the discussion.
Nina isn't sure why she didn't think of this sooner.
When she's read enough to feel confident in her abilities, she slips out in the dead of night, butterfly knife in her pocket. Her mother doesn't notice. Nina isn't even sure if she's home (she usually isn't).
Every direction to Lysander's she knows by heart. She knows every square of sidewalk, which ones have cracks, which ones are tilted. She's counted all the steps it takes to get to his apartment and she knows where the carpet wears on each one. She doesn't know the path to Castiel's home as she knows the path to Lysander's, but she has tailed him there enough times to figure it out.
She has to be especially careful, silent as a spider because Castiel has a dog. If it's out and if it hears her at worst she will be attacked and at best she will be discovered and have to scramble for an excuse on the spot.
'I got lost,' is the one she'll use if that is the case.
Lysander gets lost a lot. Nina completes him in the sense that she's actually very good with directions, but saying she gets lost too might be just as gratifying if it makes her feel closer to him. She could never be close enough.
Sucking in a breath, Nina drops to concrete and wiggles under the car. She fishes the penlight out of her pocket and searches for the brake line. She finds it, it's right where the manuel said it would be. She takes out the butterfly knife next and makes a teeny, tiny, precise slit.
The fluid will leak out gradually.
She shuts the penlight off and squirms back out from under the car. Instead of going back home, she walks to Lysander's apartment building and climbs up the tree that gives her view to his window. She can't see very well but the tree is also something she knows by heart, every stretch of bark, where each branch is and which ones make good holds.
She cherishes this tree, after all. This tree is a link to Lysander and it's helped her learn so many things about him. It's given her solace. Climb me, it's told her, climb me and rest your back against my trunk. I know you can't touch him right now. I know it makes you sad, but I can help you look after him. And so it has.
She pulls herself up to her usual perch and crosses her legs under the branch to anchor herself. The light is still on in Lysander's room, so she doesn't need to set her binoculars to their night vision setting.
She puts them to her eyes and adjusts until the interior is sharp, until his frame is clear. Butterflies flutter in her belly, her cheeks growing warm. Lysander is undressing. He unknots his cravat and tugs it free, setting it on top of his dresser. He slides down his tailcoat with a sensual roll of the shoulders almost like he knows she's watching, and then undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one.
Nina shivers. She wants to brush her lips over his bare chest, press a warm kiss right over his throat. She wants to lick down to his navel and use her fingertips to decipher the code written in the feathers inked on his back. She's taken twenty-two pictures of that tattoo, captured it from every angle she could because she wants one just like it.
It's a beautiful tattoo, as mysterious as he is and as wonderful in it's uniqueness. Each feather from something different, all drawn in acute detail. It must have hurt him to get it and she wants to share that pain, she wants to share his skin.
And she will, she reminds herself, soon. She's taking baby steps.
.
Castiel walks more than he drives so it takes six days for her idea to be put into motion. He does indeed get into an accident at an intersection on his way to the grocery store, bad enough to get on the news. The cameras at the bank caught the whole thing. He sped through the stoplight and a truck crashed into him, then sent him spinning into another two cars.
It's a catastrophe of metal and squealing tires but Castiel doesn't die and Nina is immediately disappointed by this. She finds more information on social media (though Lysander never remembers his passwords, she's leafed through the papers in his room and found them written down before they could be misplaced, saving them for times when they're handy).
He's in the ICU, so at least it's serious.
Shattered pelvis, crushed legs, a collapsed lung, dislocated shoulder, cracked eye socket, torn sternocleidomastoid, multiple clavicle fractures, severe concussion, and a broken sternum as it turns out. On top of all that he's being sued by both of the people he plowed into. He still isn't dead though and Nina's intention for him was to be deader than dead; no heartbeat, no vital signs, funeral time bye-bye.
Not only does him still being alive mean he's going to continually keep her and Lysander apart, but it might be dangerous for her. If he died this would've been passed off as a tragic accident without any second thought, but as it is the police are probably going to talk to him. If he remembers having brake trouble what's left of the car (which isn't much at least, it looks more like a crushed soda can than a car) will be examined.
Nina's skin prickles, cold perspiration beading at her brow. This isn't good. This isn't good at all.
Wait, maybe she could kill him in the hospital?
He's helpless right now. It wouldn't be hard. She could smother him with a pillow or stick him with a stolen syringe.
No, no, that's stupid. Hospitals are full of cameras to catch her and staff to see her.
Nina paces her room, tugging nervously at her pigtails.
She doesn't know what to do, so she does what she always does when she doesn't know what to do. She goes to find Lysander. She needs to remind herself she knew this was going to be hard. She needs to see him to remember why she's doing this, she needs to find her resolve in his aura and steel her nerves.
That means going to the hospital anyway. Doctors probably like hospitals because they get nice, fat paychecks there, but other than them most people don't. Nina is not exempt from this. They're germ infested, scary places that feed off sickness and mask the taste of death with caustic antiseptics. Not even all that white can bleach away the grim reaper's shadow. With that in mind, she dresses appropriately.
Victorian of course, always victorian for Lysander, but today it is a dress as black as mourning, looks darkly regal enough to belong to the vampiress Carmilla. She takes her pigtails out and does her hair up in a single ponytail with a matching ribbon and then she leaves.
It's a long walk, but Nina is used to walking. The weather is perfect for walking too, it's a nice sunny Sunday with a pleasant, warm breeze. She even hums a little tune and steps with an extra spring.
She loses the spring when she walks through the hospital's main entrance entrance. There is a long line up to the main desk, many people everywhere. Most of them wear anxious looks or dour ones, some annoyed, tapping their feet or filling out forms. She only stands out as much as she usually does and no one is going to go out of their way to note her presence when they're all wrapped up in their own lives and business here.
Now she just needs to find the ICU. She doesn't want to ask anyone as she will in turn be asked questions; why do you want to go there, are you alone, where are your parents, etc. Sometimes large shopping malls have maps on benches and signs. Maybe hospitals have something similar. She'll walk around and keep her eyes peeled.
She heads down the large corridor and debates for a moment between going up the staircase and going down the left hallway. She picks the latter simply because there are more people who aren't in staff wear, indicating it leads to somewhere like a waiting room. She'll fit in better, might find Lysander there, or one of the maps she's keeping an eye out for.
There are many doors down the hallway, most of them closed, but she finds the place that's a magnet for all the people. It's a gift shop, oddly enough. Nina didn't know hospitals had gift shops. She pokes her head inside.
She does not find Lysander, but Candy finds her.
"Nina? Is that you?"
Nina looks over to meet the puffy reddened eyes of her oblivious enemy. "Hi."
Candy puts the keychain she'd picked up back on the rack and approaches her. "What are you doing here?"
"My grandma's sick," she laments. In truth, her grandmother has been dead for three years. "I saw what happened to your friend on the news. Is that why you're here?"
Candy nods, teeth snagging at her lip as her eyes well up.
"How is he?" she asks, clasping her hands together and peering at Candy with all the concern she can summon.
"Not too good," Candy answers in a shuddering breath. "They gotta cut him open and try to put him back together with a bunch of screws and stuff..."
"I'm sorry," Nina sighs and that much is true because he was supposed to be dead, damn it.
Candy shakes her head and starts blubbering like a little bitch. Nina is under stress that peaks at levels her flimsy spine would snap under, but she's holding herself together and here's Candy, bursting into tears like a baby who's shat itself. Nina wants to grab her by the throat and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze until her head pops off. She can't though. Candy's outsizes her, she'd dislodge her easily.
But maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd be too fucking stupid to realize she could and just die because something intrinsic within her would sense death is the only thing someone like her is meant for. Just like something intrinsic within Nina knows that being with Lysander is the only thing she is meant for. Weaving her soul through his is the only way her purpose can be complete.
Nina puts a hand to Candy's back and rubs it in a way she hopes mimics consolation. "Do you want a snack?"
Candy hiccups and wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "Okay."
Nina buys them both granola bars and follows Candy out of the gift shop. She doesn't ask where she's going or ask if it's alright to do so, though the latter would be implicit by way of body language (Candy's probably too stupid to pick up on things like that).
"Thanks," she tells Nina after she opens the wrapper and nibbles at it.
"No problem. Is Lysander here too?"
"Um, he was. But he went home to grab some things. He's going to spend the night here." Candy sniffles and scrubs her eyes with her sleeve.
"I see," Nina murmurs, straining to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Nothing is going her way today.
Candy sniffles louder and loses the fight not to cry, breaking into great, gulping sobs. If she keeps this up, she's gonna flood the hospital. Nina wraps her arms around her and rubs her hands up and down her quivering back, wishing she was holding something to stab her with.
"There, there," she breathes.
.
Nina has trouble watching Lysander for the next few days because he's always at the hospital and rarely alone. Usually Leigh is with him, or her other targets, or Castiel's parents. But she does see him in blips, going home to change his clothes or the day he finally goes back to school.
She sees him crying once, in his room when he's getting ready to go back to the hospital. His crying isn't obnoxious like Candy's is, it's quiet as dandelion clocks on the breeze and melancholically beautiful. It hurts her to see him sad but marvelous his sadness is, expressed in sharp intakes of air and soft, shaky whimpers. She's seen his lip quivering since it happened, but he doesn't try to hold it back now that he's in private.
His heart aches and because his heart is hers, Nina aches. She doesn't want to cause him pain. She has to do what she has to do and she knows it will hurt him in the process, but if there was a way she could do it without hurting him, she would leap at the chance.
She wants to climb in through the window and stroke his hair, murmur words of comfort into the shell of his ear and rub his back in soothing circles. She wants to lick the pearlescent tears from his cheeks and kiss his lips until they smile again. She wants to reach through his chest and massage the pain out of his heart.
And she will, she will. When all is said and done and everyone else is out of the way, she will be there for him. She will be his anodyne. They'll be so happy together that he'll forgive her. They'll finally be united, deeply in love and ecstatic just to taste each other's breath. As she falls into his eyes and finds her heaven, he'll look back into hers and find the same and forget that there were people who weren't her he cared for in the first place.
Nina will be able to finish the job, yes, yes she will. There's been no investigation concerning Castiel's accident. She is in the clear.
She's also realized that although she wanted Castiel dead, things might be better as they are.
Lysander is wholly occupied with him. His schedule is consumed by visiting hours and he lingers even when they're over. As much as this burns Nina, now is a point in time where this can actually work to her advantage. With all of Lysander's attention focused on Castiel, it will be even easier to isolate and terminate her other targets.
Rosalya is next.
She's more dangerous than Candy and Lynn since she's actually got some sense in her. It'll be safer to get her out of the way.
Nina chews her lip and rereads the plans she'd sketched in her diary. She rereads them again and tweaks a few, eventually circling the one she thinks will work best. She pushes the diary back under her pillow and goes out to the living room. Her mother sits in an armchair, watching some drama on the Timelife channel.
"Mama?"
"Hm?"
"You're going out this weekend, right?"
"Mhm. I'll leave you some soup to heat up."
"Thanks," Nina chirps and skips out to the garage.
This is perfect. Her mother was all she had to worry about, the only variable that might make this sticky. She doesn't have a father whose presence might throw a wrench in things. She's never had one. Back in kindergarden she'd noticed the other kids' fathers and thought it was strange she hadn't seen one of her own, so she asked if she had one.
"You did," her mother had answered. "He left."
"Why'd he leave?" she'd asked.
"Because you came," had been the answer.
That had confused Nina more than it bothered her at the time, though it did bother her for a long time later. Now, however, it is extremely convenient. She picks the axe up from its hooks on the wall and and takes a practice swing at the mannequin she'd recovered from a shopping mall's dumpster. The blade slices the middle of the plastic back and Nina imagines she can hear the rip of flesh, imagines the hot spray of blood on her face.
She swipes her tongue across her lips and aims for the head this time.
.
Nina bounces into Leigh's store on early Friday evening, belly bubbling with anticipation as she lays eyes on the snow-haired vixen at the counter.
"Lys-baby isn't here," Rosalya greets flatly, chin resting in one hand and the other hand's fingers drumming on the table.
"I know," she says, stopping before the counter and playing with her bunny purse. "I came to see you."
"Oh yeah?" Rosalya lifts a brow. "What's up?"
"Well, you really know fashion and stuff, so I was wondering if you would give me a makeover." Nina gives her a sheepish smile. "Something Lysander will like? I know he's been really down about what happened to his friend. I'd like to cheer him up."
Rosalya breathes a sigh and gives her a slight smile. "I'm not sure you can do that but I will make you my project."
"Thank you," Nina chirrups.
"You've gotta earn it though. Leigh's with Lysander today, so I'm stuck here until closing. Help me out, okay?"
"Okay," agrees Nina. "What do I have to do?"
"Well, for starters, keep an eye on things while I go get coffee." Rosalya winds around the counter and walks out the door, bells tingling behind her.
Nina didn't really expect this, but she doesn't mind. Her mother is gone for the weekend and the hole has already been dug, she has more than enough time and plenty of patience.
A girl comes in while Rosalya is gone and buys a powder-blue knit top. Using the cash register isn't hard. All Nina has to do is punch the price in and the receipt pops out. There are plastic shopping bags behind the counter and Nina takes the top and tucks it into one neatly, handing it off to the girl with a sundae sweet smile.
The girl smiles back and she sends her along with the wishes of a nice day. Rosalya probably does more than just purchase coffee, or else the line at the coffee shop is very long because she doesn't come back for awhile. When she does come back, she reclaims her spot at the counter and sends Nina to sort the fabric in the back.
"By material and by color. Pink fleece with pink fleece, blue satin with blue satin and so on and so fourth," Rosalya instructs. "And don't even think about stealing anything," she adds with an intimidating waggle of her finger. "I'll be the one taking inventory and I'll know."
"Heeey," Nina peeps. "I wouldn't do that. You're so mean."
"I'll get meaner if you don't go do what you're told." Rosalya sticks her tongue out at her.
"I'm going." Nina exaggeratedly crosses her arms and heads to the back. She dutifully sorts the fabric and stacks it on the correct shelves. It's boring but it is time consuming and Nina knows that with each one she sorts, she's just a little bit closer to accomplishing her goal.
She does her labor fantasizing about how the evening will go. Imagining the weight of the axe in her hand and the polished handle against her palms. Rosalya's eyes popping wide and accusatory before the spunky spark of her soul in them fades. Daydreaming helps the time pass easily and before she knows it, Rosalya's locking up and night is creeping into the sky.
"We're going to your place, right?" Rosalya tilts her head.
"Yep." Nina loops her arm though hers. "My mom isn't home, so we'll have the whole place to ourselves."
"Ooh. Maybe I should rent some R-rated movies and corrupt your innocent little brain," Rosalya teases with an impish grin.
"I'll make the popcorn," Nina agrees happily.
Soon. Soon, soon, soon.
She and Rosalya walk the three blocks it takes to get to her house, chatting on about silly things while Nina's heartbeat quickens excitedly with every step. She unlocks the door and leads Rosalya inside, kicking it closed. She takes Rosalya to her room and gestures to her dresser, where a small makeup case and some accessories lay scattered.
Rosalya peers at them critically. "Well," she says. "You have a couple nice bracelets here, but most of them are chintzy. This lip gloss is pretty, acceptable. The rest of your makeup sucks. It's a good thing I brought my own." She straightens up and glances back, patting Nina on the shoulder.
"You're still in middle school, you've got a lot to learn. I'll take you under my wing."
"Do you wanna see what clothes I have for you to work with?" asks Nina, beaming warmly.
"Yes." Rosalya snaps her fingers and then whirls around, opening Nina's closet with a flourish. She beholds her clothes for a very long moment and then begins shuffling through the hangers, studying them with a keen eye and humming in thought.
Nina slides the axe out from under her pillow and swings it with everything she's got, burying the blade in the small of Rosalya's back. Rosalya lets out a shrill, crystal-shattering wail and Nina tears it out again, liquid ruby splattering everything. Rosalya drops to her knees and turns back to look at her unison, her fingers still clenched around the dress she was evaluating.
Her gaze is Venus on Nina, amber depths swirling with toxicity and burning shock.
"You...You psycho little bitch," she hisses, whipping her arm around and trying to hit Nina. The movement rips another scream of pain from her lips and she sinks forward.
"Goodbye, Rosalya," Nina sings, swiveling to her side and raising the axe high over her head. She makes sure the last thing Rosalya sees is the blood on her smiling teeth and then she decapitates her. Blood squirts from the stump of her neck in a high-pressure jet. Her body jerks, her fingers twitch like spider legs, and the blood just keeps on squirting.
"I did it," Nina trills happily. "I did it, I did it!" Laughter peals up her throat as she spins around the room in a giddy twirl.
"I did it, I did it! I can't believe I DID IT!" She slips in Rosalya's blood and falls back against the bed, the axe sliding out of her grasp. She's still laughing. "Two down! Two down, two to go!"
Cheerful tears roll down her cheeks and she swipes her tongue around her mouth, tasting them and the flecks of blood speckling her face. With that, she gets up and takes Rosalya's arm, dragging her to the bathroom. Nina breaks into a sweat with the great effort it takes to haul her.
"You look so slim but it feels like you're made of lard," she grits out.
The headless corpse does not reply. Nina drops her on the tile and wipes the perspiration off her brow. For a minute she only looks at her— no, it, once a person is dead the body is just that, no longer a person at all —and then her mind catches up with her actions. She crouches down and undresses her.
Every stretch of Rosalya's skin is supple and faultless. No doubt the work of a favorable genetic composition and the enhancement of the best lotion and body washes on the market. Nina enviously strokes the perfect flesh. She's just started to get acne and not just on her face. No wonder Lysander wouldn't look twice at her, not when this model of a girl was always around.
Her bust is better than Nina's too. Sizable, smooth. Nina squeezes them, each one a handful. Hopefully her own will grow as big and shapely. She folds the clothes and puts them in the fireplace, sprinkling them in rubbing alcohol before she lights the match. She tosses it in and there's an audible whoosh as they go up in flames.
Nina grabs the axe and a cola from the kitchen before she returns to the body. She pops the tab and guzzles a third of the can for a boost and then begins the chore of hacking the corpse up. She chops the legs off first. The bones crack and splinter under the bite of the blade, meat renting wetly. Nina huffs and puffs, severing the arms next. She aims right below the shoulders.
They go with a tad more ease and she swears she can see the fingers quiver and twitch in one final, stubborn protest. Nina lowers the axe and stretches her sore arms. She rolls her shoulders and gulps down some more cola. Rosalya should fit in the luggage now.
Nina goes to her room and pulls the suitcase out from under her bed. It's a good suitcase, hot-pink zebra print with wheels. It's a shame she has to get rid of it, but it's the only thing she has that's big enough. It's worth getting rid of if it means she's one millimeter closer to being with Lysander. She lines the suitcase with a garbage bag and rolls it to the bathroom.
Rosalya's torso is leaden in her arms. Nina can just barely lift it and when she dumps it in the suitcase, the stump of her neck sticks up. She has to bend it a bit to wedge it in. The arteries and tattered skin flap against her fingers, cold and damp.
"Bleh," Nina spits. She stacks the arms and legs on top of the torso and the closes the suitcase. It's a tight fit, she has to sit on top of it to be able to zip it all the way.
She leaves the suitcase where it's at for the time being and stuffs Rosalya's head into another garbage bag. After that, she breaks out the cleaning supplies. Armed with bleach, toothpaste, vinegar, scrub brushes, and sponges, Nina washes every splash of blood. She scrubs the walls in circular motions until her elbows throb. She gets down on her knees and scours the carpet to erase every telltale droplet of her crime.
It's not really a crime though, no, no, no, it's only necessary means to become one with her beloved. But no one else would understand. No one else would see it that way.
Bleach burns her nostrils with its scent, acrid in her throat. Vinegar makes her eyes stream. Gel-y crescents of mint toothpaste get stuck under her fingernails. Cleaning is tedious, exhausting, but Lysander is worth every second. She throws her bedspread in the washing machine and quadruples the recommended amount of laundry soap. Cold water is best for blood stains, hot water might even help them set.
It takes another cola and a turnover to get her through the rest of the cleaning process. She doesn't stop until every indication that something violent took place is gone. It's nearly four in the morning. That's okay though, Nina is used to staying up late.
Very few people are out and about at this time anyway, so it all works out well enough. She extends the suitcase's handle and pulls it along behind her. Thank goodness for the wheels, they make this part so much easier. She stops at the door to put her coat on, pulls up the hood, and then leaves.
The woods aren't far from her house at all. She knows a shortcut through the neighborhood to get behind the jewelry store and the trees start there. There's a short path that ends in a clearing and then beyond that, voilà, woods. Anticipation makes the walk feel longer than it really is, but she's taught herself patience.
.
Rosalya is reported missing after three days and on the fourth day her picture is in all mediums of news. Lysander hasn't cried but he doesn't have to for Nina to know he is in pain. Umbrae ring his bloodshot eyes, emphasizing the sallow change in his complexion and leaving him downright ghoulish. His stride is stiff and pained like there are tacks in his shoes. He has never been a voracious eater but as of late key meals are worryingly untouched.
Nina is distraught. She can't regret what she's done but seeing him like this is unbearable. Stupid Rosalya! This is her fault, if she wasn't in the way Nina wouldn't have had to kill her.
Until her task is complete she can't be with him and soothe his sorrow away, but perhaps there is something she can do for him. He needs to eat. Nina is not an adept cook but if she has a recipe to follow she can make it work. She purchases a box of pre-made cookie mix. Green and black are Lysander's favorite colors so she chooses dark chocolate chips and green sprinkles.
All she has to do is add milk and eggs to the mix, then the other ingredients at her discretion. Since Lysander hasn't been eating nearly enough, Nina dumps almost the entire bag of chips in. She bakes away until the kitchen smells as sweet as her love for him and the air is as warm as the embrace she longs she take him in.
Soon.
She patiently waits for the cookies to cool. When they are, she lines a basket with paper towel and neatly packs them away. She leaves the house and makes her way to the clothing shop at a brisk pace. It's been closed the past two days but she was watching Lysander this morning and overheard that he was planning to open it after school.
Tragedy or not, they still need money and from what she's gathered Leigh is badly out of sorts. Leigh is something she still has to mull over. He and Lysander are close, but he's never seemed in the way before. Though before, he had Rosalya to occupy him. Things are fine as of now but he gets in the way she's going to have to take him out.
Hopefully it won't come to that. She doesn't want to hurt Lysander any more than she has to. Leigh is also about twice her size and she couldn't risk pulling the car trick again, not when Lysander might get into the same vehicle. Poison might work. She could stage a suicide. People would probably buy it. Headline: Young Shop Owner Unable to Live On Without His Beloved. No? Maybe too wordy?
In any case, she'd kill herself if she couldn't be with Lysander so this method is definitely plausible. Hmm...For the time being she isn't there yet. There's no need to dispose of Leigh. For now she should just focus on making sure Lysander eats.
The shop is right around the corner. She puts on a smile and enters.
The smile plummets off her face when she sees Lynn at the counter, her hand on Lysander's back.
"—I'm trying to stay positive but this really isn't like her. She always tells Leigh where she's going. He's just beside himself. They aren't fighting and she isn't fighting with her parents either. I have no idea why..." Lysander trails off when he notices Nina. He raises his head and offers her a weak twitch of the lips that doesn't even ghost his genuine, glorious smile. "Hello, Nina."
"Hi." Nina holds up her basket. "I brought cookies."
Lynn's brow crinkles. "How did you know he was going to be here? The shop has been closed for days."
Nina implodes. She wants to lunge across the room and smash Lynn's face into the cash register until it looks like hamburger meat. She wants to tear her limb from limb like a crazed werewolf and throw the pieces far, far away. The fact that her hand is still on Lysander's back makes her want to scream because such a useless, unworthy hand doesn't belong there. Her filth may already be tarnishing her beloved singer's wings.
"I didn't know," Nina answers. "If he wasn't here I was going to go to the apartment." She bounds forward and sets the basket on the counter. "Feel free to have some too, Lynn. They're still a little warm."
"Thank you, Nina." Lysander takes one and nibbles on it. He doesn't really want it. Poor baby still doesn't have an appetite, but he's tasting her hard work anyway because it's the polite thing to do. He's such a kind, courteous person. His soul is as pure as wedding doves and she refuses to let anyone snatch it away from her.
Lynn takes one too and her chewing is nowhere near as refined as Lysander's, even further proving that this silly, loveless girl doesn't deserve to be within a meter of him. Nina wishes she would choke on her cookie, a cookie baked with Lysander's health in mind and full of fondness for him and him alone. Stupid, greedy girl! Why does she have to be here!?
"Nina," Lysander says as he lowers the partly eaten sweet. "You were with Rosa on Friday night, weren't you? She texted Leigh telling him she would be going to your house."
What.
Oh.
Oh crap.
This is not good. This is so not good. This changes everything.
"Nina?"
Nina gulps. It feels like there are ants crawling through her bloodstream and snowballs in her stomach. Bad. This is so, so bad.
"Yeah," she says, straining to keep her voice normal. "Rosalya came over. She helped me with my makeup and we watched a movie."
"Do you remember what time she left?" Lysander asks.
"Did you see anything strange?" Lynn adds. "Anything you should tell the police about?"
The police. Of course this troublemaking, infuriating girl would bring up the police. Nina was debating which sister to go after first and Lynn just took the spot.
"She left late. She didn't even come over until after the store was closed. And no, I didn't see anything strange."
"Was Rosalya acting like herself?" Lynn probes some more. "Did it seem like anything was on her mind? Was she troubled?"
"I think she was fine," Nina murmurs, frowning and nervously wringing her hands.
"You think? So you don't know?"
"She seemed fine to me," says Nina. "But it's not like Rosalya and I are best friends. If something was bothering her, I might not have picked up on it." Nina needs to divert the topic, fast. She's a frog in a pot and the water is starting to boil. "I'm actually scared. I don't want to think anything bad happened to Rosalya, but what if it did? What if someone attacked her when she left my house? What if they hurt me too? I'm so scared, I don't even want to walk home."
She sniffles like she's trying not to cry and ducks her head.
"We could walk you home," Lynn says and her voice is softer, sympathetic.
Lysander sighs. "Forgive me, I'll have to decline. I'm busy, I'm even closing early tonight. There was that complication with Castiel's last surgery, so I have to go make sure he's okay, then I agreed to talk to the police about Rosa, and Leigh...I really shouldn't leave him alone longer than I have to right now...I could give you some bus fare though."
Nina clutches at her chest. Lysander is throughly exhausted...She can't draw this out anymore.
"That's okay," she tells him. "I'll feel safe if Lynn walks me home. We'll be fine since there's two of us." She forces her lips to form a smile of relief as she turns to the brunette and plans come together in her head. "Thanks, Lynn."
"No prob." Lynn smiles back.
.
Nina holds Lynn's hand as they walk like she's three instead of thirteen. Lynn doesn't seem to mind but she might just not be saying anything. Her grip is lose and damp. It's a hand decidedly unworthy to hold Lysander's.
They don't talk much on the way. Things have been awkward between them ever since Nina kicked her out of the Lysander FanClub. But when they arrive at her house, Nina opens the door and invites her inside.
"You could hang out for a little while and then call your parents to come pick you up," she says. "It might not be safe for you to go home alone."
"That's true," Lynn reasons. She steps inside.
Nina closes the door behind her and locks it with a thrill of anticipation. "You wanna see my basement?" she asks as she turns back. "It's furnished. We've got a pool table and a pretty big t.v."
"I don't know," Lynn says. "I should probably just call my parents..."
"Wait," yips Nina. She plasters on the spooked puppy expression and gazes at Lynn pleadingly. "I know it's a school night, but could you just stay with me until my mom gets home? I really don't want to be alone."
"Well...Okay." She smiles slightly and puts a hand on her hip.
"Thank you!" Nina beams at her and takes her wrist, sweeping her away. "The basement's over here!"
She opens the door just to the left of the kitchen. She lets go of Lynn and speedily skips behind her before the girl has time to question anything, thrusting her arms out with all her might and shoving her forward. Lynn lets out a loud gasp and goes somersaulting down the steps. Her hair flies up in a storm of brown brushstrokes and her arms pinwheel blindly for the railing.
There's an audible crack as something breaks and a screechy whine of pain cut short as her face slams into the next step. She lands undramatically facedown, in a crumpled pile with three limbs bent beneath her and one crooked leg stretched out behind. Liquid red victory decorates the steps and spreads around her head like a corona. A low moan floats up from her and Nina is about to dance for joy when her mother's voice carries down from upstairs.
"Nina? Nina, what was that?"
Nina jolts. Lynn's next moan is louder, less of a pained animal noise and more like a garble of half-formed words. Nina quickly skitters back and shuts the basement door.
"What was what?" she calls up, heart pounding rabbity fast.
"Those noises!?"
"Oh! I...I dropped my backpack down the stairs!"
"Oh..." There is pause. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay...Think you could heat me up one of those lunch pockets, honey?"
"Yes, Mama!"
Nina heaves a sigh, her heart slowing a bit. She spares a wary glance to the basement door and then does as her mother asked, pulling the box of lunch pockets out of the freezer and popping one into the microwave. It only takes two minutes to cook but it feels like it takes too hours and she taps her foot the entire time.
Patience, Nina has to remind herself. Soon. She'll make everything right soon.
The microwave beeps. She tosses another glance to the basement door and then takes the lunch pocket out. She rushes upstairs. Her mother is sitting in bed with a tray over her legs, intently watching some reality show or another. Nina deposits the lunch pocket on the tray.
"Thanks." Her mother picks it up and takes a bite, pausing to give Nina another glance. "Are you sure you're okay, Nina?"
"Yeah." Nina smiles brightly and bobs her head. "Do you need anything else?"
Her mother's eyes doubtfully linger on her for just a moment and then she turns back to the television with a shake of the head. Immense relief washes over Nina in a rainstorm. Her legs wobble. She could sink to her knees right here but there is no time for that. She scurries from her mother's room and flies back to the kitchen. She makes it just in time.
When she swings open the door, there's Lynn, pitifully crawling up the steps. A wide gash in her forehead weeps all over her pained face. She's pushing herself up with her unbroken leg and her elbows, the fingers on one hand all bloody and twisted like the wire ties that hold bread bags closed. She makes a throaty sound of fear when she sees Nina and freezes.
Nina smirks and walks down a few steps, gripping the railing as she kicks Lynn square in the face. Lynn tumbles back to the bottom. Nina hurries to the counter and grabs a small knife. She jogs down the stairs and kicks Lynn onto her back. Lynn yelps and Nina silences her cry by slitting her throat. It's a messy slice, an uneven crescent that spills from ear to ear. Of course, Nina isn't skilled in the art of cutting throats.
This is her first time. It isn't as deep as it should've been, Lynn is still writhing and making ugly, gargling noises. Nina spears through her trachea this time. Blood spurts up over her hands. She twists the knife and tears it free, leaving another ragged mess in Lynn's neck. Too ragged to try to make a neater slash after the fact.
Lynn weakly lifts her hand with a nearly inaudible noise like a clogged vacuum hose. It looks like she's trying to touch her throat. Her attempt is naught. Her fingers tremble and her hand falls slack to the tile. Her eyes roll back into her head and her last breath trips out of her frothy red mouth.
Nina grins and wipes the sweat from her brow. She feels accomplished but it's hard to be as ecstatic as she was the first time she killed. Her mother is still upstairs and she's on edge. She'll probably be okay because her mother doesn't pay too much attention to her and what she does. They have a casual relationship. She's not the kind of mom that hovers like a helicopter and drags Nina along on errands.
Nina is not the kind of daughter that clings. But there is a chance her mother might come downstairs. There's a possibility she has laundry to do when whatever she's watching is over and the washing machine is in the basement. It goes without saying that she will not take finding a dead body in stride. Killing Lynn today was a last minute decision and Nina is unprepared.
Should she start the butchery right here and now? Should she wait until her mother is asleep? Moving Lynn's body might be ideal but she's too heavy for Nina to carry and the blood left behind would be just as conspicuous.
Nina wants to pace but blood also coats her shoes and she doesn't want to make the mess any bigger.
After a few minutes of debating, she decides to begin the butchery. She takes her shoes off and goes upstairs to get garbage bags and then she slips back to the basement, her heart a too tight knot in her chest. She cuts Lynn's clothes from her body and stuffs them in one of the garbage bags before she begins. She remembers reading about what to do over and over again but now that the knife is in her hand she wishes the books were here for reference.
Though she had written some notes in her diary...Quickly she heads back upstairs to retrieve it. She ensures her mother is still watching television and then resumes her position with the page open. First she skins Lynn. She uses the blade to sever flesh from bone and shear scalp from skull. The knot in her chest loosens as she fondly thinks that Lysander must know how to do this too.
He grew up on a farm, after all.
Nina stuffs Lynn's skin and hair in the garbage bag and then slices her open. The raw, heady scent of meat hits her nose and she pulls her viscera out by the handfuls. They're mostly slippery, bloody masses, enormously different than the pictures in the books. They're unpleasantly cool and slimy in her hands. She dumps them in another bag.
What's left of Lynn looks nothing like the smiling green-eyed girl Nina has come to associate the name with. Stitches of muscle crisscross over stripes of bone. Lipless teeth grin eerily under the orbs of the whites of her eyes. Tiny veins thread around them. Webs of baby pink membrane glisten. There's an upside down heart shape where her nose was. There are two-hundred and six bones in the human body (discounting deformities) and Nina has exposed every one of them.
She severs the tendons that keep them attached and packs them into the bags.
The whole thing is a lengthy, delicate process. She shaves and snips and hours scuttle by. Her ears are open in case her mother gets up but she only ever does so to use the bathroom. Nina is still wary. Wary enough to not need a caffeine boost yet, wary enough to be wide awake.
Lynn looks less and less human as Nina bags away the parts that made her so, one by one. She has bigger bags to put those bags into. Bigger bags and other big things, bowling balls, gym equipment her mother never uses, stones stolen discreetly from the neighbor's rock garden.
Her inflatable boat has a weight limit of one hundred and eighty kilos. It's more than enough.
Nina retrieves the bleach when she grows weary enough to warrant a cola. She tiptoes back down the stairs and puts both down to scoop the skull up, holding it out at arm's length and staring into the spheres of vacancy where she can almost picture eyes.
"How well can you swim, Lynn?"
.
Disappearances raise questions. Multiple disappearances raise even more.
Nina knows this. It feels like she's waited an eternity to be with Lysander so pacing herself with ridding those in the way was originally part of the plan. It'd only be drawing things out for just a bit longer and it was safer that way.
But Lysander is just too upset. He's suffering terribly so she has to finish up as soon as possible. Leigh's been hospitalized for a nervous breakdown and Candy is twice the burden she was before. Now she's always crying on Lysander, burying her face into his chest and howling like a delirious animal as her tears stain all of his elegant clothes.
Lysander is the one truly in pain here and she has the nerve to walk around with her nose running like a leaky faucet and her tumid, hideous eyes weeping oceans while he remains stoic and subtle.
Nina hates, hates, hates that she has to do this to him. Even though she has the comfort of knowing it's all for the best, he doesn't. Even though she knows she will pour so much love into him that his every woe will be wiped away, he doesn't. He's oblivious and despairing and eating less and less and barely sleeping a wink.
Safe pacing can be tossed aside. Nina simply can't draw out his pain like this and she's not a suspicious person anyway. She has to kill Candy now.
Fire, she's going to use fire. She's followed the girl home, she knows how to get to her room through the fire escape. A fire will spread fast if she sets it right and it's another unfortunate occurrence often accidental. A fire will also take care of the body. She may be in trouble if they have a smoke detector but it is a risk she is willing to take.
Rubbing alcohol is flammable enough. Nina still has a bottle at her house. She buys a lighter with her allowance and picks up a cigarette in a motel parking lot for good measure. Fires always have a cause, many blazes have been the result of a neglected lit cigarette and it's an easy mistake for a teenage girl to make. To Nina's knowledge Candy does not smoke but it still won't be hard to pass off.
At school she's sat through enough seminars on peer pressure and bad habits to know how easily it is to believe Candy fell to one or the other. Especially with all she's going through, with both her best friend and sister missing.
Nina passes the day feasting on sweets and downing sodas to give her a nice sugar rush to keep her going. She is well accustomed to sneaking out at night. It's midnight on the dot when she leaves tonight, supplies slipped into her bunny purse. She slinks up the fire escape to Candy's apartment, as quiet and attentive as a cat on the prowl.
Candy's room is dark. Good. She stops outside it and presses her ear to the window, listening for any activity. None.
Nina carefully opens the window and holds her breath as she peers inside. Candy is asleep, sprawled under a tangled blanket with a teddy bear under one arm. Nina pauses as a new idea blooms.
Should she smother Candy first? Just to ensure she dies?
She hesitates. It sounds like a good idea but if Candy wakes up while she's doing it it could easily take a turn for the worse. Candy is still bigger than Nina and if she isn't careful she could overpower her. Or she could scream and alert her parents.
Nina decides against it and takes the bottle of rubbing alcohol out of her purse. She dips the ends of the curtains inside and drips a trail to Candy's bed. She soaks the corner of the blanket that hangs to the floor and exchanges the bottle for the lighter and cigarette. She first lights the cigarette and tosses it in the middle of the trail. Then she treats the corner of the blanket to the flame itself and it goes right up in a soft fwoosh.
Nina swoops back out the window and crouches on the metal grating. Orange flames flicker across the floor, dart up the comforter. She doesn't have a lot of time left. She hastily lights the end of the curtain and the fire rapidly rages across the gossamer fabric. Nina nearly gets burned. She whips it back inside and shuts the window, fleeing from the stairs in a flurry.
She doesn't slow until she's bathed under the sickly florescence of the street lamps. A grin unfurls her lips, giddiness feathering all through her.
Finally, finally she is done.
She dances through the streets and claps her hands, exploding with gleeful laughter.
Finally, finally she can be with Lysander!
The unmistakable, shrill squeal of a siren pierces her celebration.
Nina stops dead as a firetruck comes careening down the street. Her stomach plummets to the cement when it turns down Candy's street.
No.
No. No. No.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Nina takes in a gulp of air that scrapes her lungs and runs.
She races to Lysander's apartment complex and hurls herself up the stairs because there's no time for the elevator. She fucked up, she really fucked up! She doesn't realize she's crying until the world blurs before her eyes. She's heaving before his door, hands trembling like earthquakes. She drops the key the first time and doesn't manage to get it in the lock the second time.
But she does the third time and trips over herself getting in, praying that Lysander is here as she kicks the door closed behind her. "Lysander! Lysander!?"
Lysander emerges from his bedroom immediately, ink stains on his hands and raccoon eyes growing wide. "Nina? What...?"
Nina flings herself at him and clutches him like the last dawn before the apocalypse. "We have to go! We have to go now!"
"Nina, what are you talking about?" Lysander grabs her by the shoulders and holds her out at arm's length. "How did you get in here?"
"There's no time for this, we have to go!" Nina chokes out a sob. "I messed up! I messed up so bad and there's no way I can try again! I'll get caught, they'll take me away from you! So we have to go, we have to go now!" Frazzled and frightened she twists out his grip and grabs him by the wrist, prepared to bolt.
Lysander abruptly yanks his hand back. "Nina, I have no idea what you're rambling about and It's very late. I'm going to call your mother, okay?"
"No," Nina squeaks. "No, Lysander—"
"Nina." Lysander heaves a sigh of exasperation and grabs her shoulders again. He squeezes gently. "I can't help you. You shouldn't even be here this late. Take a deep breath. I'll call your mother."
"Lysander," she begs but he's already pulling away and bending to get his phone from the coffee table.
This is when Nina realizes he won't understand. He won't understand and she doesn't have enough time to make him understand. She makes a decision and her heart crumbles in her chest like stale cake. She exhales a tearful breath and slides her hand into her purse.
Lysander straightens himself. "Now what was your mother's numb—"
Nina slashes his throat with the butterfly knife, a clean swipe neater and more symmetrical than the ugly, squiggly slice she'd left in Lynn's. Lysander drops the phone. It clatters loudly to the table as he clutches his throat, wheezing raggedly. He's wearing his nightclothes but if he'd been dressed his cravat might have reduced the injury. Blood spills between his fingers as tears spill from Nina's eyes.
"I'm sorry! I didn't want it to be like this."
His eyes wildly glaze over her before he bends, still clutching his throat with one hand while the other fumbles for his phone. He clumsily knocks it off the table. He slowly descends to his knees, back against the couch.
"I'm sorry," Nina sobs again, pushing the table aside to kneel beside him. "I didn't have time. But we can still be together like this, okay? I'll make you feel better, okay?"
She slips her hand into his pants and grasps his shaft. It's flaccid, warm. She pumps her hand the way she's learned she's supposed to from the internet, making the most of their dwindling time together and doing her best to please him.
Lysander gives a loud, moist croak. Nina can't tell if it's in response to her actions or not.
"I'm sorry," she says once more. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. But I love you, okay, Lysander? I really, really love you."
His wheezing is growing fainter, bubbly and strained. She looks up to meet his gaze and his eyes are already falling closed. She cries out and saws her teeth into her lip until it bleeds. She kisses him tenderly on the lips and slides her tongue into his mouth, her blood mingling with his. She breathes into him and drinks his own uneven breaths until they run out.
Agony lances through her heart. Nina whispers another apology as she brushes her lips over his cheek and continues to service him for a little while. She takes her hand back when he's gone completely cold. She moves her hands under his nightshirt and lovingly roams across the bare skin of his chest.
"It was supposed to be so much better than this," she laments, giving him another kiss. "So much better. But I still won't leave you. I'll never leave you."
Nina pulls herself onto his lap. She slits her right wrist first and then her left, the sting nothing compared to the snowstorm of anguish of a life without him. She intertwines her fingers with his and nuzzles her face into his bloody neck.
She knows his voice so well she can almost hear him singing a lullaby.
Blargh. So much lumpy, sour crap. Probably so many typos. Will get to those when I'm done with Echo e_e'
Will also get to requests soon.