Just a fair warning, my character is very vulgar (as am I). So if you are easily offended or turned off by that kind of language, I wouldn't suggest reading any further.

This chapter has in-game dialogue, but I've added a bit of changes here and there. This chapter also contains spoilers for the side quest Trouble On the Homefront. Enjoy!

Chapter Two:
"Way Back Home"

She stood before the rickety wooden door that led to the vault. Her heart thumped violently against her ribcage, anxiety refusing to let her take another step. Out of habit she began to chew at her fingernails, silently weighing her options. She could still turn around, she didn't have to go back. No one was forcing her to do this. She swallowed a lump of fear. This was ridiculous. She's charged into buildings full of Supermutants with nothing but one box of ammo and a varmint rifle on her back. She's faced her own mortality at the barrel of a gun while raiders beat her and stole her only worldly possessions. She's been through situations that would put any seasoned doctor to shame but, out of all things, this scares her most.

She raised a trembling hand and gave the door a good pull. With a few cracks it swung open, and she stepped into the damp, darkened tunnel. The shade was a nice break from the sweltering wasteland sun, and she took a moment to relish it. She pulled down her mask to better breathe in the cool air. After a moment, her gaze settled on the giant metal hatch of Vault 101. She took a few slow steps towards the door. She felt dwarfed next to the towering metal entrance with it's big, white block lettering. It loomed over her petite frame and for a brief second, she thought fleeing was the smarter option. She shook her head to banish the thought. After she left the vault, she thought she grew to be more courageous. A courageous person wouldn't turn away from this situation. She eyed the control panel near the corner, it's orange and green flashing lights beckoning her to come closer. She took a deep breath to steady her heart rate and entered Amata's name into the computer. A loud hiss rang through the small tunnel, followed by the ear-splitting sound of steel grinding against steel. She flinched and covered her ears, watching the hatch dislodge and retract backwards into the entrance.

Yikes, that was loud. Vault security had to have heard that. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, eyeing the exit. No going back now, she thought wistfully. She clambered through the entrance and into the main foyer. She instantly noticed that something was off. There were two wooden barricades planted in front of the door to the rest of the vault. Papers and other miscellaneous items were strewn about the floor, and she carefully tried to avoid stepping on them. A few rad roaches hissed and clicked in the room adjacent from her, but paid them no mind. A foul odor wafted up to her and she took a step back, putting her sleeve over her mouth and nose. She knew that smell.

She arched her neck to look over the railing. A body lay crumpled against the secondary control panel, a pool of dried blood beneath him. She couldn't tell who he was and stared at his messy chestnut hair before tilting his face to hers. She frowned; it was Jim Wilkins. Judging by the lividity and decay, she could tell he had been there for quite some time. He was just a kid, a few years younger than her. It felt wrong to leave him here, and she made a mental note to give him proper burial when the time came for her to leave. She approached the door and turned the hatch, only to be surprised that it wasn't locked. The door opened and she slipped into the hall and felt a presence to her left. A vault security guard rushed towards her and she drew her gun, only to see him mirror her action. She met his gaze briefly before checking around the room to make sure that they were alone.

"Stop right there! I don't know how you got in here, but... hold on," he paused, "Wait a minute! It's you! I hardly recognized you with all the dust and grime from out there. I guess that explains how you got the door open," he holstered his gun. "After all, you do have more experience with it than anyone else down here."

"The wasteland sun must've gotten to my head, because I'm afraid I don't remember you," she said, keeping her gun aimed towards his head. She knew that voice, but she couldn't tell who he was behind that thick security helmet.

The officer removed his visor, flipping it back. He gave her a daft, friendly smile, "Officer Gomez, at your service."

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence ticked by before Dolly holstered her gun, "Officer Gomez, I'm sorry. I know this is rather sudden, but I need to talk to Amata."

"About what?"

"I was traveling nearby when I received an odd transmission," she started, pulling up her Pip-boy to show him. "She sent out an emergency message asking for me, specifically, to come to her aid."

"Amata sent a message?" he asked, his lips pursing together, "You better keep that information under your hat... at least for her sake. She could get in real trouble if people found out she sent you a message. So could I, just for talking with you now."

"Er... I mean, I just had a hunch she was in trouble," she shrugged dramatically, looking around to be doubly sure no one heard her talking about Amata. She made a signal of zipping her mouth closed and he just nodded in agreement. Secret is safe between the two of them.

"It seems like it's been a mighty long time, so, let me get you up to speed," he said, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "This place is not at all like it used to be."

"As much as I'd love to sit and chat," Dolly started, "I really think I should-"

"If you-know-who sent you that transmission for the reason I think they did, then you need to hear this, so you can better understand what happened," he interrupted. "The night you and your dad left, everything went downhill fast. Between the bugs and the confusion, we lost a lot of people. When your dad opened the door, he let loose a whole lot of shit, if you'll pardon my language."

Dolly looked down to her feet, trying not to imagine the horror she and her dad left in their wake. That was never what they wanted. She lived alongside those people for most of her life, and the last thing she wanted was to bring them any kind of harm... well, except the Overseer. Fuck that guy.

"Dad would be horrified to know all that... if he were still alive." Her voice cracked a bit and she swallowed the lump of grief that was lodged in her throat. He had been gone for a year now, but she still felt the pain as if he had died yesterday.

"I'm... I'm sorry to hear that," he frowned deeply, putting a comforting hand to her shoulder. "Regardless of how things turned out down here, he was a good friend. I always figured he'd do well out there..." he trailed off. His hand fell back to his side, "Matter of fact, plenty of people down here started thinking he had the right idea. He usually did. So if it was safe outside, why stay down here forever? The Overseer, the new Overseer that is, didn't like that one bit. So he started cracking down on that sort of thought. Guess he didn't plan on you coming back."

She smiled sadly, "So, what now?"

"Well, I ought to put you under arrest and take you to the Overseer," he quirked a smile, pulling his visor back down, "but, frankly, I know better than to try that. Meanwhile, some of your old friends think opening the vault would be a good idea. I'm sure those rebels would like to have a word with you. Of course, if you want, you can just walk away as if you were never here," he waved his hand dismissively, "out of respect for your dad, I'd tell no one of this conversation or that I ever saw you."

She shook her head, "You know I can't just turn back around and go back to my daily life, not after learning about how everything is down here. I have to try and help put things back to the way they used to be, I owe you guys that much. Can you lead me somewhere?"

"I guess you've had a lot on your mind since you were here last," he nodded, "where did you want to go?"

Dolly inched closer to him and lowered her voice, "Lead me to Amata, I need to see her."

Officer Gomez let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He turned around, "Alright kid, follow me."

Dolly stayed close behind Officer Gomez with one hand on her gun. She knew there would be people who would be less than pleased at her return. Having Gomez was a nice barrier, but she knew from experience how people get when they're enraged. He led her down a flight stairs until they hit a large, barren room. The window to the Overseer's room was straight ahead, and the sign that hung above it had been defaced. Whereas the sign used to say, "Hard Work Is Happy Work," it now said "Work is Work." It was probably Butch, she laughed to herself. She crossed the doorway and noticed a few more barricades and behind them, a surly old man whose name she could not recall. Maybe the sun really had fried her brain a bit. He began to yell about her needing to leave and, between Officer Gomez's commands to get out of their way, she heard the old man say something about his deceased wife. His severely wrinkled face contorted into a look of hatred- if looks could kill, she and Gomez would be soupy puddles on the cold metal floor. After they passed by him, she made sure to keep glancing behind her to make sure that old piece of leather wasn't waiting for her with a knife.

"What was that all about?" she queried, glancing behind herself out of paranoia. "I haven't seen a face so full of loathing since I disabled the bomb in Megaton, and the Children of Atom almost lynched me."

"The Children of wha-?" he looked back curiously, "Never mind. That man lost his wife amidst all the confusion. He blames you and your father for what happened. Imagine how mad you'd be if you were in his position."

Food for thought. She stayed quiet for a long while, until they reached the lower apartments. Officer Gomez let her walk in front of him for a bit, until she heard him come to a complete stop. She turned around, "Why'd you stop?"

"I can't take you any further than this," he said dolefully. "Take a left and head up the stairs. The rebels are walled off in your dad's old clinic. I'm sure you remember how to get there."

Before she could even mutter a thank you, her escort disappeared. She turned back around and started walking through the halls. The last time she saw these apartments, the rooms were flashing from the alarm systems and infested with radroaches. It was a weird feeling being back. For the majority of her life, she never felt like she fit in here. Like a square peg trying to force itself into a round hole. All she had to fall back on was her dad, who encouraged her every day to be herself and forget the rest of them. She did well in Mr. Brotch's class and always did her homework. She never caused trouble and was pleasant to everyone... yet she felt like an alien. Like the people of Vault 101 knew something about her that she didn't.

She supposed they were right not to trust her, seeing as how everything turned out. She could laugh at how horribly everything had crumbled and fallen apart, like she was some badly scripted movie character with comically bad luck. If they had just stayed in the vault, maybe all these people would still be alive. Her dad would still be alive. She shook her head to banish the thought. As she rounded the corner, movement at the top of the stair case caught her attention. Without a second thought she drew her gun. The person had their back to her, and was whittling away at something. A flash of blue and black caught her eye, as well as a poorly painted snake. If that wasn't enough to assure her who it was, the overwhelming stench of pomade overcame her senses.

Butch drew his trusty old knife when he felt someone approaching and spun around. His expression went one from irritation to surprise, as he pocketed his knife and threw his arms up in welcome. "Damn! Look who came waltzing back into the vault!" After she refused to holster her gun, Butch frowned and crossed his arms with a huff. "Aw hell, Doll, you haven't seen me for two years and this is how you greet ol' Butchie?"

She lowered her gun and laughed, "Butch, you smarmy bastard. Do they know you're out here? Because you are the last person I would pick to guard anything."

"Psh, whatever Doll, it takes a lot of balls to come back here after what you did," he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes.

Dolly holstered her gun and met him at the top of the stairs. It was good to see that he hadn't changed, although she was sure he could use some sense and manners beaten into him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, his lips forming into an unattractive scowl. She realized that he had replaced the Tunnel Snakes jacket that he had given her. It was a dark, almost black, brown and had a few studs here and there. The emblem of his mighty vault gang had been hurriedly scrawled across the back. It didn't look like the one she currently had in her bag, which had been polished and had the gang emblem hand stitched into the leather. His hair, which was usually perfectly quaffed and appropriately gelled, was currently in disarray, with a few pieces jutting out and tickling his forehead.

After her sixteenth birthday, she and Butch had agreed on a stalemate. He wouldn't harass her anymore, but only if she'd give him answers to every upcoming test in Mr. Brotch's class. She let him cheat off of her every test day from then on, and in doing so, they developed a good rapport with one another. He had even stuck up for her a few times if Wally or Paul went out of their way to torment her. She hated to say it, but she kind of missed the guy, in a fucked up, Stockholm syndrome kind of way.

She reached out and punched his arm softly, "And why should I help you anymore, Butch?"

Butch huffed and crossed his arms, "You must've heard about the changes since you left, right? Ya know, the whole death, lies, and the new Overseer going batshit crazy and putting everyone on lock down?" he waved dramatically, "Ring any bells?"

"Yeah, Officer Gomez filled me in before leading me up here," she said, feeling a bit of guilt tug at her heart, "I never meant for any of that to happen, Butch."

"But it did," he shrugged. "The only reason they haven't rushed in here already is accountin' on the fact that I stole one of their guns when they issued martial law."

"Big and mighty Butch fighting for the little guys," she sniggered, "I'm surprised you're not the ring leader of this entire rebellion."

"I might as well be," he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He stared at the floor for a few moments before giving her a slow, measuring look. "You've gotta help get us out of here, Doll... you gotta help me get out of here. We can't live like this, and no one can talk any sense into that new Overseer."

"That's why I'm here," she said with false confidence, "I can at least try to make things right."

"Ain't nothing you do can make this place right again, Doll," he shook his head. "Too much shit has gone down. We've lost too many people..." he trailed off. Dolly shifted uncomfortably and let out a sigh. As much as she was loving this reunion, she was better off with just speaking to Amata. She turned and was halfway down the corridor before she heard him call out to her. She snapped back around and folded her arms across her chest impatiently.

"Hey Doll," he said, a smile slowly tugging at his lips, "I'm glad you're back."

Despite herself, she felt a grin spread across her face. Butch had always been a little shit, dripping with vitriol for anyone who wasn't part of his precious high school gang. But there were moments where she saw the good side to him. He may be as dumb as a box of rocks, but he was true to his word and stuck up for what he felt was right. It was easy to forget the years of bullying and, yes, even that one time he gave her a bloody nose because she refused to share her sweet roll with him. They ended on a good note after she saved his mom from radroaches two years ago. And she would never tell him how comforting and warm his jacket had been to her during those first few weeks out on her own.

She continued down the corridor and rounded the corner, spotting the entrance to the clinic. All along the halls were makeshift barricades; desks flipped over and lockers stacked atop another. They were really trying to keep people out. The soft thrum of chatter drifted through the halls. Dolly approached slowly, keeping her footsteps light and cautious. As she got closer to the doorway, the chattering quieted down. She popped her head around the door frame to announce herself and, hopefully, avoid being shot at. Before she could even enter the clinic, Amata came running towards her.

"I can't believe you came," Amata welcomed her, gesturing for her to enter. She moved in clumsily, as if getting ready to hug her, but then stopped abruptly. In turn, they exchanged a very awkward handshake. This was not going to go well.

"I came as soon as I heard you were in trouble," Dolly reassured her, releasing her friend's hand. The other patrons in the room filed out quickly, eyeing her suspiciously as they passed by. Most of them she knew from school, others from small gatherings the Overseer would host.

"Come, we have a lot to talk about," she said formally. Dolly could feel her stomach drop a bit, as she quickly realized that this was not the person she once knew. If so much had changed, that she was ready to regard Dolly in such a formal, distant fashion... maybe that burned bridge was irreparable.

Amata ushered her to have a seat at one of the tables against the back wall. She looked around what was once her dad's perfectly tidy and organized little clinic. Now, it laid in shambles. Bed rolls covered the floors, as did papers and a few medical supplies. Only a few of the lights seemed to be functioning, leaving the room dimly lit. It only added to the depressing realization of what was happening to these people. The only thing left standing was a desk with her dad's old computer. Maybe she'd have a look through that, see if her dad was harboring any additional secrets before he decided to take off.

Amata sat across from her, her hands clasped together on the table's surface. Her face was grimy and covered in flecks of something she couldn't distinguish- blood, perhaps? Amata kept her eyes locked on her hands, refusing to make eye contact with Dolly. Her face was tense, her brows creased in thought as she nervously bounced her leg. Dolly could feel the air between them become tense. She repositioned herself awkwardly in her seat, waiting for her friend to speak.

"I'm sorry Dolly it's just... it's really hard to be around you," Amata exhaled shakily. "You murdered my father. You put a gun to his head and blew his brains all over his office. I could have... I could have reasoned with him, if you had just given me some time but... but you ruined it. You ruined everything."

Dolly couldn't help the wave of anger that came over her. She had been waiting two years to explain what happened, to let Amata know that she only did that out of love and a sense of kinsmanship. If only she knew how the Overseer's face haunted her dreams; the look of fear and betrayal as she placed the barrel against his temple. How his blood spattered against the metallic floor, and the hollow thud as his body crumbled into an indiscernible heap. What haunted her most, though, was how she didn't regret it.

She swallowed hard, "He threatened to hurt you if I didn't tell him where my dad had gone. He thought he could get me to talk by threatening the one friend I had, his own daughter. He was messed up, Amata. He was a control freak who let his paranoia dictate your life," she slammed her palms on the table. Amata flinched, locking eyes with her. "I couldn't let him hurt you. I couldn't let him kill any more innocent people, like Jonas. He was out for blood and it never would have ended, so I did what I thought was best. And if I had to, I'd do it again."

Her chest heaved with rage at her outburst, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel the blood rushing to her face and, at that moment, she had never seen Amata cower before her like she was. When Dolly had escaped, she didn't have enough time to explain what had happened- why she had done what she did. She would have killed anyone to protect her best friend, and she meant it when she said she'd do it again. But the fact of the matter is Amata sent for help and asked for her, not anyone else. And even after killing her father and leaving the vault in chaos, Amata was still relying on Dolly for help. Dolly took a deep breath, trying to smooth down her raised hackles. She was inherently hot-headed, and was never one to control her anger. It helped when she was out on her own with her defenses up, but it didn't help in situations like these where she was easily riled.

"Regardless of how everything went down," Amata started, dragging Dolly from her mental reverie, "I called for you because you're the only person I could open the vault to and it was a huge risk on my part. But I've put myself out there for you before and this is no different."

Dolly steadied herself, leveling her emotions. "You saved my life, Amata. I may have inconsequentially ruined yours, but the least I can do is help out now."

Amata's honey colored eyes glistened, her resolve starting to melt away. "I just wish... I just wish we could have saved more people. So many died that night..." she cracked, a few tears slid down her cheeks. "It was bad enough they died because my father was trying to keep the doors closed, but I found out it was all to protect a lie."

"What are you talking about? What lie?" she queried, her interest peaking.

"The vault wasn't always closed, Dolly," she said baldly, dabbing her cheeks with the crook of her finger, "They've lied to us about it our entire lives."

Dolly's jaw dropped, "What? How did you find out about that?"

"After that night, I heard Wally's father say we should never have taken you or your dad into the vault. I found out that they used to keep the vault open but, for some reason, closed it when we were all too young to remember. They all swore to pretend that it never had happened. And even though we all know the truth, that damn Overseer won't let us make our own decisions."

"What is it about being Overseer that drives people into psychosis?" She hissed.

"I wish I knew," she visibly wilted, "It's not like we want to abandon the vault completely. Most of us had just accepted the outside world as certain death, and that everything would stay the same down here. But, now we know they don't have to be. After all, it was enough to get you and your dad to leave, so there must be something good out there."

Dolly's emerald eyes drifted to the table, "I can't lie to you Amata, there's not much good to be found out there. Aside from supplies and introducing more people to the vault," she ran her fingers through her tawny hair, "it's a hell hole. It's hot, it's dry, and drug use is rampant. The towns are crowded, boarded up messes. The people are mistrusting and brash. All of the food is either made of bugs or mutated animals. I just... I don't want you to think that beyond that metal hatch, there is some paradise awaiting you."

Amata met her gaze coldly, "I am very aware that things may not turn out as I expect, but it has to be better than this. It's either live safely and die out, or risk it, open the hatch, and ultimately better the lives of those who reside here. I'm willing to take that risk."

Dolly brought her fingers up to her mouth to gnaw on her cuticles. She wasn't sure if she could do this. It was a miracle she had made it this far alive. Thanks to her upbringing under science and medicine, she had no problem healing illnesses, finding plants for poultices, and hacking her way into computer systems. But, the wastelands were harsh and cruel. She had to learn to murder and scavenge; how to survive off of minimal rations and hold down the irradiated water without puking. She had to learn when to sleep and when to keep moving. The day she left the vault, she had to learn how to handle guns. And by "learn," she meant being thrown right in with no prior knowledge. The first time her gun jammed, she had to throw it to the ground and book it. Now she not only knew how to maintain her guns, but how to build them, too. Maybe mediating this debacle was just another thing she had to be thrown into. When it came to charisma and learning how to charm people, she fell flat. But seeing as the new Overseer had a screw or two loose, maybe she wouldn't have to charm him. You can't rationalize with crazy. She had a growing suspicion that this wouldn't end peacefully. If he was anything like the old Overseer, he'll want to go out with a bang.

"Amata," Dolly whispered, her voice soft but commanding, "I can't guarantee this won't end in bloodshed."

The woman in front of her blanched and shook her head, "Dolly, you can't. I won't have anymore blood spilled over this.."

"If he's as insane as everyone is saying, it's might be impossible to reason with him."

"If you don't think you can do it," Amata suggested calmly, "then maybe I'll head up there myself."

"You can't, I just... ugh," she paused, "I'll try my best to talk things out with him, Amata. I just need a bit to rest. I've been traveling for about a week now, and a few days on these broken ribs. I'll need to acquire some medical supplies. Who's the doctor now?"

"Well, seeing as our main doctor ran away and his assistant was killed," Amata stated curtly, "we've been relying on that old Mr. Handy for most of our medical needs."

Dolly felt the blood drain from her face, "You WHAT?" she screeched. "He couldn't even cut my birthday cake without shredding it into a pile of mush!"

"Well, we didn't have many options," she shrugged. "What do you need to fix those ribs?"

"Some stimpaks would be great. These ribs might not heal the right way after all the shit I've put them through while traveling, but as long as they heal and I'm no longer in pain, I'll be okay."

Amata disappeared into the back office and reappeared with a bag of medical supplies. She tossed them at her friend, "Here you go. A few stimpaks, some med-x, and a couple of bandages."

"Thank you," she let out a sigh of relief.

"There's a room down the hall to the right that's been abandoned. Feel free to set up shop in there for a bit," Amata gestured to the heavy pack on Dolly's back. "I know you'll probably want to sleep, too. The sooner we get this Overseer issue out of the way the better. But in the meantime, the dining room is still active. We have some boxes of BlamCo and Cram, but not much. Rations are pretty short these days."

"I understand," Dolly eyed the bag of supplies in her grip, "I have some work to do, but I promise I'll meet up with you in a bit."

She said her goodbye to Amata and went to locate her room for the night. It wasn't far from the clinic, which gave her some comfort. She didn't know how large their safe zone was, but being close to the clinic assured her that she wouldn't be having any additional conflict with security. The door took a bit to pry open, but she was proud to say she only broke two bobby pins. As the door opened, the stench of stale air and dust invaded her senses. She grunted in displeasure and placed a hand over her mouth, entering the dark room with reluctance. Her free hand fumbled against the wall for a light switch, and she let out a soft "a-ha!" as she flicked on the lights. The room was quaint, one of the smaller models made for single living. The walls were decorated with artwork from many centuries before- presumably there from before the bombs fell. Two dingy green couches lined the walls accompanied by a small oak coffee table. Upon the table was a cup of... something, and a book lying sadly next to it. Whoever lived here had left in a hurry and never came back.

She quickly found the bedroom and deposited her bags onto the floor next to the bed. She eyed the mattress enviously before flopping backwards onto the giant quilted gift from heaven. The soft material cupped her tired, damaged body. It was the little things in life that she cherished... and this was definitely one of them. It had been two years since she had slept in a decent bed. Two years since she slept in something that wasn't soaked in questionable bodily fluids and blood stains. She had become accustomed to sleeping on grungy mattresses in warehouses and down in the tunnel systems, snuggling her gun just in case.

The bed she had at her Megaton domicile was an upgrade, but not by much. Her body adapted to the knots and back aches, and she rarely noticed them anymore. Maybe a night of rest here would help mend her devastated muscles. She sat up and reached for the medical supplies. Her body protested she lifted her shirt to reveal the large black and yellow bruise that covered the expanse of her ribcage. She cursed under her breath as she withdrew a stimpak. Gently, she pushed the needle underneath the skin right above the injury. A flash of blood appeared in the syringe as she injected the stimpak, squirming uncomfortably as the cooling liquid reached her broken ribs. As much of a miracle the stimpaks were, it didn't make injecting herself any easier. She tossed the used syringe into the trash bin next to the nightstand.

She made her way to the tiny bathroom. To her surprise, the water was still working, so she turned on the shower to the hottest possible setting. She stood under the stream and let the hot water run down her back, inhaling the warm cloud of steam that surrounded her. Absolute bliss. Showers were rare occurrences in the wastes. Since the water supply for the city had been contaminated by radiation, taking a shower had to be brief and was less than enjoyable. She shut the water off and climbed out, using an old cloth to dry her disheveled auburn hair. She climbed into her usual pajamas, consisting of a pair of shorts and a tank top, and proceeded to the living room. She pulled her broken gun out of her pack to inspect the damage, placing fragments of it on the carpet with a small shake of her head. It had been completely idiotic to try and reload her magazine with a Supermutant so close to her. If she hadn't stalled and pointed her weapon right as the rebar club came smashing down, maybe she would still have her beloved Xuanlong Assault Rifle. It was possible that should could mend her weapon if she could salvage parts from other assault rifles. Even then she would need a welding-

Knock Knock.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she jumped, "Who is it?"

"It's Butch."

She froze.

A/N: So I'm a bit unhappy with how this turned out, but I've revised it multiple times and this was as good as I could get it. Sorry if seems choppy in certain places. I go into too much detail at times, and I'm trying to cut it down so that those of you who are reading this don't get overloaded or lose interest! R&R! Thanks guys!

P.S. If anyone has any suggestions as to how to improve my writing, either comment below or PM! It would be very helpful :)