Dear Dionosus...I am so fekking tired! I woke up at 7:51am precisely this morning, drove down to school, and then got on a bus. After that me and some of my schoolmates, two teachers and the superintendent traveled or an hour to do volunteer work for the Hurrican Irene flood victims. We picked up all kinds of stuff in the woods. I found a box of old Broadway records, a newspaper from 1985 that has articles about the mistreatment of AIDS victims...God they were so ignorant back then. We found all kinds of stuff. We dragged a lawn mower and a pinball machine filled with mud out of the woods to the side of the road with a garden hose...

Haha 'you know you're a redneck when' anybody? XDD

I also washed windows in a house that was being worked on, and oh, I ALMOST FELL THROUGH THE FLOOR! When I yanked the heel of my boot out of the floor, I was like "OH! THAT'S WHY THEY HAD US SIGN WAIVERS!" Sheesh...They served a good meal though. Those scalloped potatoes were bitchin'.

Here I give you another chapter of Ember In The Dark. Sorry darlings, no sex yet. Be patient though. The characters need time to develop. I wasn't going to have it this short, but I figured that it was a good place to end the chapter. Now excuse me while I go lay my exhausted body out on my bed and fall asleep with the aide of some of my lovely over the counter vitamins that help me get to sleep!


When Will awoke, he squeezed his eyes closed and rolled to one side very slowly and sorely. He let out a small whimper. It hurts…it hurts!

He jumped when he heard something stomp against the floor. He winced as his form scrambled to protect itself. It hurt to move in such a way. And now he was dazed and confused. He was lying on a couch in an unfamiliar living room. It wasn't much smaller than his own living room, but instead of carpet, the floor was wood. The walls were white and empty whilst the walls of his living room were a gentle blue and peppered with photos and paintings. There was no coffee table, only a couch, two side tables and a chair.

And the chair was occupied.

His breath seized in his throat and he shrunk back into the cushions of the black couch.

Warren Peace was sitting on the edge of the chair that was off to one side of the couch. He was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. His hair was tied back and he was yanking on his boots. A cigarette hung neatly from one side of his mouth.

Warren's dark eyes lifted and fell unfeelingly onto Will who started to tremble. Warren cocked an eyebrow at the smaller boy. He reached up and scissored the cigarette between two fingers and blew out a smooth stream of smoke.

Warren grunted, "Good morning. Better not have gotten blood on the couch." Will glanced at the black material of the couch, fingers brushing the edge of the thick, old quilt that had been spread over his body.

Warren replaced the cigarette back between his lips and took a long drag. When he spoke again, the smoke exited the edge of his mouth. "Now, listen Stronghold. I'm getting ready to go. You don't have to go home. But you can't stay here."

Warren stood, picking up a black t-shirt that had been draped over the back of the chair he had been sitting in. He lifted his arms and started pulling the shirt down over his head. His abs flexed as his muscles stretched. He dragged the hem down to his waist and cocked an eyebrow at Will when he still hadn't moved.

"Well? Get the hell out of here." He growled.

Will flinched at the harsh tone, but hurriedly threw off the quilt and bit his lip in pain as he put his feet on the floor. He quickly started tying on his Converse.

Warren stood over him, dragging on his leather jacket. He was still sucking on the end of his cigarette, occasionally blowing out smoke. Will glanced worriedly up at Warren and quickened his pace.

"You're in the Eastern Suburbs. Cinder Branch Lane. I'm sure you can find your way home from here." Warren grunted, scissoring the cigarette and tapping the ashes into his fist. He looked back to see Will wincing as he got up to his feet.

Warren shook his head, Wimp.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and pointed, "Door's that way."

Will glanced up at Warren tensely and limped down the hallway with Warren close behind. Once outside, Will squinted in the bright morning sunlight. He jumped when Warren yanked the door closed behind him, locking it and tossing the ashes from his fist.

Warren reached up and took the cigarette from his mouth and sighed, letting out a smoke stream. His eyes shifted to look into Will's. "Stop looking at me like a goddamned pound puppy." Warren snapped, shifting the strap of his bag and replacing his cigarette. He walked around Will and went toward the garage where he pulled up the door. "Fuck, I got stabbed and you're making a big deal out of this. You're indestructible, get over it." He walked into the garage and grabbed the handlebars of his Harley.

Warren walked his motorcycle out of the garage and looked back at the unmoving Will. Those blue eyes were still fixed on him. Warren lowered his eyebrows, refusing to let something fall inside of him when he saw the hopelessness, and hurt in them. He scissored his cig and growled, "What the fuck are you looking at? Get out of here!"

Will winced. Warren flicked his cigarette with a shake of his head and turned away to pull the garage door back down. When Warren stood back up and turned around, he saw Will limping gingerly down the driveway. He shook his head and picked up his helmet. His eyes glanced back up curiously.

There was a dried bloodstain on the seat of Will's jeans.


If something like that happened, how come he didn't just fight them off? He threw me plus a lunch table across the cafeteria like a Frisbee. Guy hardly would've been able to touch his zipper. One punch sent me through a wall. Single punch woulda sent some pedo through a building, probably kill him.

Warren tossed his jacket onto the empty cafeteria table, drawing the rolled up Motorcyclist magazine out of his back pocket before sitting down. He unfurled it on the table before him and flipped open to the article he'd been reading the previous day while he had been in lunch. It was about the seven speed for the new Suzuki racer.

But he couldn't concentrate on it. He didn't notice that he'd read the same sentence four times. His mind just kept slipping back to the questions he had. Questions about what could have possibly happened. About Will.

He curled his lip in disgust. Little mindfuck…

Warren's left shoulder tensed as he felt a presence behind him. He glanced through his hair, but there was no one there. He turned his head and paused when he saw the Will had sat beside him on his right side. Will's blue eyes were downcast, and his wrists were crossed gently on the table.

He wasn't exactly sitting actually. He had his leg folded underneath him and he was raised so there wasn't any pressure whatsoever on the seat of his pants. That only confirmed Warren's wonderings.

But how the hell could it have happened?

"The hell do you want? No one sits here but me." Warren growled. "So get lost before I knock you across the table." He looked back to his magazine, well-aware of all of the stares that were starting to find him and his little companion. But Will still didn't move. He never looked up from the table. He just sat there solemnly, and silently.

Warren reached up and rubbed at his face. Then he grabbed his magazine, his leather jacket and got up from the table. He strode strongly through the cafeteria. Pairs of eyes everywhere shot down to their lunch trays to avoid making eye contact with him. There were a few brave pairs that would peak up from under their eyebrows but that was about it.

Warren pushed open the cafeteria doors and strode down the hallway. As he was pulling his leather jacket back on, his shoulder tensed. He could feel a presence behind him. So he glanced behind him and looked back ahead of him again. "For fuck's sake." He hissed.

Will was following him, eyes downcast, and feet determined to keep at least three feet behind him as he walked. If not less.

Warren reached up and ran a hand down his face. He hoped that the smaller boy would get discouraged. Because verbal threats didn't seem to deter him. He hoped to hell that the cold shoulder would give Will a hint big enough for him to understand. Maybe even follow.

But nope. Will remained behind him at a placid, trotting pace. Even with his obvious limp. Warren lead the way down another hallway, and another until he decided to stop at his locker.

Fuck…I need a cigarette…

He brushed his hair back as he put the combination into his locker. He gnawed on the inside of his lip. When he got his locket open, he grabbed his water bottle and unscrewed the cap, glancing at Will.

He was standing there a few feet away. His left hand was gripping his left wrist. And his eyes were still downcast. They looked like they were watching Warren's boots actually.

When he had taken a few long swigs, Warren heaved a heavy sigh and spoke, not removing his eyes from the inside of his locker, "Stronghold,"

It must have been the right tone because out of the corner of his eye, he saw Will look at him, slowly and nervously. Warren turned his dark eyes upon Will, expecting him to flinch when he did. But Will didn't. Warren studied Will's big, sad, hurting blue eyes and he shook his head.

"I found you on the side of the street, and I gave you a place to sleep. That's it. That is it. I'm not your protector. I'm not your babysitter. I'm not your therapist. And I'm sure as hell not your friend. If I had known you'd start following me around, last night I would have kicked you right in the kidney, and then just kept right on walking."