The next thing I know, I'm seated in Emily's living room, with Mrs. Fields worrying over how pale I look, and forcing a glass of water into my hands with a tentative smile. Although my hands have not stopped shaking since seeing the stretcher get loaded into the back of the coroner's van, I take the glass; the water wobbling around inside it, and threatening to spill over the sides and onto the carpet until I reach up to grasp it tightly with both hands, instead of just the one. Unable to meet her gaze for very long, in spite of the very obvious concern in her features, I drop my eyes down to the glass I am now holding instead; the acid taste that remains in my mouth prompting me to take a sip, and close my eyes as the cool liquid dulls the fire, at least for now.
"Thank you, Mrs. Fields."
"Anytime, honey" She replied; reaching down to give my shoulder a squeeze, before moving to sit across from me, and beside Emily on the couch "Are you sure you don't want me to call your Mom?"
"Positive. I mean, Spencer's probably already told her what—what happened—"
"Still, I'm not sure you should walk home on your own. You seem pretty shaken up."
"Mom, if Ava says she's fine, she's fine" Emily interjected; tempering the potential harshness of her words with a squeeze to her mother's knee, before she stands, and plops down next to me, instead "She just needs a second to regroup."
"Ava?"
"Yeah—yeah, Emily's right" I managed; swallowing another sip of water, and closing my eyes as I momentarily engage in a silent war with my throat as it tries to close around the liquid, and cause me to choke. I know well enough that Mrs. Fields is not about to let me go home if I give her the impression that I can't even handle a simple sip of water. And so, with a level of determination I wasn't entirely sure I had, I square my shoulders and down just a bit more water, while simultaneously feeling the slightest bit of pride in the fact that I am actually able to succeed in drinking it normally.
"Really, Mrs. Fields, I'll be fine. But thank you for the offer, anyway."
"Of course, Ava. You know you don't have to be a stranger around here, right?" Mrs. Fields persisted; the intensity of her observation unnerving me just a bit, though I do put forth my best effort at avoiding a squirm so that she doesn't get suspicious "You're welcome here any time."
"I know. And I—I'll try my best not to be so absent" I replied; leaning forward to place the half-empty glass of water I am holding on a coaster, before attempting to stand "But I really should go home, before my Dad sends out a search party—"
"Of course. You're sure you're alright to walk back home on your own?"
"I'm fine, I promise. Thanks again for—for everything."
Though I can tell that she is still half-tempted to keep me on her couch until one of my parents can arrive, I make a point of moving towards the foyer, while still endeavoring to avoid appearing rude; my boots suddenly taking up the act of clicking rather loudly on the flooring, and causing me to jump as I become aware of the transition from carpet, to hardwood faster than I had anticipated. For a moment, I find that I am closing my eyes, my breath leaving my lungs in a shaky rush, before I gather the wherewithal to square my shoulders and continue moving forward.
With as jumpy as the simple sound of my own heels on flooring has made me, I am absolutely terrified that anything else will be too much for me to handle; and I am not willing to let either Emily, or her mother in on the fact that I am barely holding on by a thread.
In an effort to avoid letting on to exactly how nervous I am, I hurry to reach the front door; only sparing a second to send one last grateful smile towards Mrs. Fields before descending the porch steps, and moving towards the sidewalk. Though I am fairly certain I have nothing left in my stomach to get rid of accept the little bit of water I had taken to appease Mrs. Fields, I can feel the nausea resurfacing, regardless—a fact that has me forcing myself into a jog, if for no other reason than to get behind my own closed doors before I risk breaking down completely.
Alison was dead. Really dead. And in spite of how I knew that I ought to be feeling some manner of relief that her family might finally be able to get some closure, I cannot seem to get past the strange constriction in my chest, as though I will never be able to take a satisfactory breath ever again. The sensation is very nearly panicking, although I somehow manage to make it to my own home without losing any speed; the manner in which the front door opens has me freezing for a moment, until my eyes meet my Dad's, and I find that I am suddenly over the threshold, and clinging to him for dear life, as the sobs finally break free and I can do nothing but weather the storm…
…
(January, 2009)
For what felt like the thousandth time, I turn over on the air mattress that Alison's mother placed on the floor of her daughter's bedroom; my eyes instinctively seeking the pale glow of the alarm clock as I attempt to discern the time. Though it felt like three hours ought to have passed, I find with some chagrin that only half that amount of time has really gone by since Alison and I decided to abandon the research paper we had teamed up for, and gone to sleep—
Or rather, she had gone to sleep, and I had remained awake, worrying over exactly why she had chosen me as her partner, when she knew damned well that Spencer would be more of a guarantee when it came to getting a perfect score.
Were I to be honest with myself, of course, I knew very well what Ali's motives had been, particularly as I had the misfortune to catch the satisfied smirk she had given me before plopping herself down at the desk beside mine in class earlier that day. It was a smirk that meant she knew something—that she knew everything that would be sufficient to land me in a heap of trouble, if she decided to disclose it. And although I would have loved nothing more than to back out of the team assignment, and choose someone else to work with, I knew that if I did, it would be the end of whatever secret Ali would claim she was keeping for my sake this time.
A sigh escaped as this thought took hold, my eyes moving away from the alarm clock, and fixing instead upon the ceiling while I squirm a bit further down under the relative warmth of my blankets, and adjust my position on the pillow. Although I am, quite frankly, exhausted, both from the typical demands of schoolwork, and the efforts required to act as though I had no interest in Alison's games, I know somehow that I will not be sleeping tonight—
I would be a fool to pretend that such a realization was not almost enough to bring me to tears.
Squeezing my eyes shut to avoid just such an occurrence, however, I choose instead to roll over onto my side; one hand reaching to take some of the blanket with me so that I can tuck it beneath my chin. I cannot explain it—the lingering chill that seems determined to sink into my bones at the prospect of the exact magnitude of the damage Alison could cause for me, if she decided that she wanted to. But although I am wary to admit the sort of power that she appears to have over me, I find that I am forced to do exactly that; another sigh escaping as I realize that Alison has me exactly where she wants me.
She knows, as well as I do, that if I balk at the completion of this project, it means I do have something to hide from her; and I would sooner deal with her taunts and passive aggressive remarks than risk exposing not only myself, but Jason as well to the consequences of yet another one of her games.
Unable to shake the apprehension that steals over me upon consideration of that very thought, I find that I am suddenly hauling myself to a seated position from beneath the blankets, and flinging them aside; my movements only pausing for long enough that I can determine Alison is not about to wake up before I am securing my feet beneath me, and stealing over towards the bedroom door. Though the room is by no means overly warm, I would be a fool to pretend that I did not feel as though I were suffocating anyway; my hand latching onto the doorknob as one might snatch a life vest, so that I can open it as slowly as I dare, and slip out into the hallway beyond.
As quietly as I had opened the door, I move down the hallway and towards the stairs; my feet tentatively testing each one to avoid the occasional creaks they so often gave when climbed without due caution. From the room directly behind me, I can hear a tell-tale snoring; signifying that Ali's father is sound asleep, and her mother likely is as well. And, in hopes of keeping it that way, I proceed to pad down the steps until I reach the main floor; my muscles relaxing just a bit as I realize I am just inches away from the front door, and fresh air that I crave more than anything else.
Just as I reach the door, however, I find that I am freezing in place as a sharp crack reaches my ears, coming from somewhere close to the living room; my heart hammering away rather erratically as I drop my hand back to my side, and turn as slowly as I dare to face the interior of the house once again. Instinctively, I attempt to slow my breathing, almost to the point that I am holding my breath completely—and although the act causes my lungs to burn just a bit, I persist while simultaneously risking first one step, and then another, down the hallway that leads to the location of the sound; one hand tracing along the wall as though I hope I can somehow sink into it if I find that I need to for protection.
As if that could really help me anyway…
Steeling myself as I proceed down the hallway, I come to another momentary halt just as my toes brush against the carpeting in the living room; whatever tension I felt in anticipation of what I might find when I arrived rather quickly fading away as I realized the source of the noise was none other than the individual currently sprawled on the sofa. With a sigh, my eyes move from Jason's frame, to the table beside where he rests, and the beer bottle that now rests tipped on its side which is fortunately empty; and as quickly as that, my body unfreezes itself, and I enter the room, skirting around the sofa, and reaching out to right the toppled beer bottle before any of its contents can spill on the floor.
And of course, that's when I smell it—the barest hint of marijuana that hides just underneath the smell of alcohol—and although I know I really shouldn't be, I find that I am cursing under my breath as I back away from the sofa, and try to ignore the sinking sensation that fills my chest as I realize that what Jason had told me about getting clean was apparently a lie.
"Dammit, Jason—what the hell were you thinking?"
As soon as the words leave my lips, of course, I realize that I really do need to get him up to his room, knowing full well that if his parents find him in this state it won't be good for either of us. For him, because it would be one more straw added to the till until the camel's back finally broke; and for me, because I couldn't stand the idea of the enforced separation that would occur if he was sent to rehab.
God, I am in way too deep, here.
Regardless of the mild frustration that such a thought provokes, however, I find that I am still bending down to place a hand tentatively upon Jason's shoulder; the gesture provoking an almost immediate jump, and causing me to withdraw a few steps as he comes to grips with his surroundings. Almost immediately, his eyes meet mine; recognizing me, even though they are still rather significantly bleary—and although I would be a fool to pretend that I was not tempted to take the hand that he has extended to pull me down beside him, I shake my head, my heart sinking a bit within my chest as I note the almost instantaneous dejection that moves across his expression as a result.
"We need to get you upstairs."
"Upstairs?"
"Yeah—you know, that part of your house that's a level above this one?"
"Smartass" Jason mumbled; the slight tug of a grin against the corner of his mouth provoking one of my own as I step just a bit closer towards him, and permit him to loop an arm around my shoulders while he stands. Rather foolishly, I cling to the hope that I can ignore the weight of his body as he leans on me a bit for support; though I do succumb to the urge to place my own arm around his waist, while my other hand moves to his abdomen—and although I know that I have no real way of succeeding in getting him up the stairs, and into his bedroom without waking either his parents, or Alison, I cannot quite bring myself to care.
After all, what I'm doing now doesn't really qualify as anything other than helping someone in need, right?
With that in mind, I shift just a bit so that we can turn to head back towards the stairs; another soft laugh escaping as Jason uses our proximity to bury his nose in my hair, and causes me to flinch just a bit in response. Even intoxicated, he seems pretty well aware of what he can do to me, if he really puts his mind to it—and although I know that I should be upset over the circumstances, and how he has so clearly fallen off the wagon once again, I know that I really can't.
No matter what, I just can't seem to stay angry with him; and I don't really know what that says about my own moral character, to be honest…
Forcing myself to shove that question aside for later consideration, though, I focus instead on guiding us both towards the first step; the sensation of Jason's arm tightening around my shoulders giving me reason to believe that he was perhaps a bit less self-assured than he wanted me to believe.
"You good?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure?" I pressed; risking a glance up at Jason, and biting my lip as I realize that he appears to be more than satisfied that we have temporarily stopped moving "What?"
"Why are you so worried?"
"Why the hell wouldn't I be?"
Although I really wished he would, Jason appeared to have absolutely zero idea of a suitable answer to that particular question; his eyes searching my features for some sort of reassurance, it seemed, and just as quickly finding none. I really haven't got the faintest idea of what he could have expected; especially since it's not like I have any idea of how to handle my own feelings, in this situation. But in spite of that, I force myself to redirect my attention to the task at hand, my eyes drifting back towards the first step before I speak.
"Ready?"
"Sure."
Just like that, we both resettle our priorities on reaching the top of the stairs, though for my part, with much less enthusiasm; my feet nearly catching on the carpeting of the steps a few times while we move. Naturally, each time that happens, Jason's arm tightens its hold on my shoulders, forcing me to consciously ignore the sensation as best I can while we take each step in succession. Finally, after what felt to me like ages, we reach the top, and begin the trek towards the half-open door that leads to Jason's bedroom—and although I know the effort is likely futile, and certainly foolish, I find that I am holding my breath as we move past Alison's room; my eyes closing on instinct as I shift from paying attention to the route ahead, to my fervent prayer that my erstwhile friend would not wake up.
Of course, when I realize that Jason has effectively stopped moving, thus causing me to jerk forward for a moment until I come fully back to the present, all hope of focusing on said prayer rather quickly falls to the wayside…
"Ava, what is it?"
"What's what?"
"You know what" Jason stated; pulling back just a bit so that he can look at me more directly, though I subsequently end up doing my best to avoid that gaze in response "I know you do."
"Wow. And I thought you were supposed to miss things like that when you're intoxicated."
"Is that what this is about?"
Ignoring the question, I choose instead to pull out from under the weight of his arm, one hand lifting to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear as I simultaneously fight off the urge to shiver in response to the sudden absence of his body heat. Truthfully, I don't even know the reasoning behind the majority of my actions of the past fifteen minutes or so, particularly as I knew very well that it probably would have been wiser to keep out of his business to begin with.
God, but I can't do that—no matter how much good judgment might imply that I should.
"Honest answer?"
"Preferably."
"Fine" I acknowledged; taking another step back as I realize Jason is moving towards me, and deciding at the last second to turn on a heel and head further away from the door of Alison's room before daring to speak again, albeit more softly "Not out here, though."
"Where?"
"Where do you think?"
Once again I realize that he is almost purposefully failing to suppress his amusement; the flush that adorns my cheeks as a result prompting me to duck my head away as I head towards the room in question. Belatedly, of course, the realization occurs to me that perhaps I should still be attempting to assist Jason, particularly as I am well aware of the sound of a few thumps along the way that can only mean he has bumped into the wall—but before I can really make any effort at pulling myself together for long enough to turn back, we are in the bedroom, and he has somehow managed to gain the wherewithal to shut the door until only a slim crack of the hallway is visible.
"What's wrong, Ava?"
"What do you think?" I retorted; moving on instinct to the side of the bed, and plopping down on the edge while my eyes remain fixed upon my feet. I know that I should be cutting him some slack—that addiction, at its core, is not something easily shaken with simple words. But in spite of that awareness, I cannot shake the concern I feel as it rather effectively mingling with frustration over yet another promise broken; and I find that I am once again biting my lip as I register the dip in the mattress beside me, and come to grips with the sensation of Jason's arm brushing against my own.
"You said last time was it."
"I know."
"And yet here we are—"
"Ava, I'm sorry" Jason admitted; the slight slump to his shoulders finally prompting me to look at him more directly, while he reaches automatically for my hand, and I thread my fingers through his own. Internally, of course, I am cursing myself for not putting up more of a fight; the sudden twisting sensation in my stomach indicating that I know caving now, of all times, might do more harm than good.
I am absolutely terrified that my lack of gumption will inadvertently serve as the catalyst for something far worse than just a temporary high, and yet at the same time I cannot bring myself to remain upset when Jason persists in looking at me as though no matter what, he would never do anything to deliberately drive a wedge between us…
"I know" I finally managed; a sigh escaping as I relax just a bit, and lean my shoulder against Jason's arm in an attempt to show acknowledgement of his apology, even if I could not quite convince myself to an open acceptance "I know you are, I just—"
"You worry too much."
"Hey!"
"You do" Jason pressed; giving my hand a little squeeze before he freed his own, and snuck an arm around my waist instead "It's—cute."
"Very funny, Jason."
"What? It's true."
"Sure" I quipped; effecting an eye-roll as I find that I am unable to entirely resist the small laugh that breaks free at the lopsided smile that I've come to adore so much "Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a pain in the ass?"
"You're still hanging around—"
"I never said I had good judgment."
"Well I'm glad you don't" Jason stated; pulling me just a bit closer with the gentle pressure of his hand against my hip, and simultaneously leaning over to press his lips against my hair. I can tell that he knows he has succeeded in getting me off the so-called warpath, at least for now—and although I am still reluctant to give him a complete victory, I can't help but smile; my body instinctively leaning into his own before I reply.
"Me too."
"Then stay—stay here with me?"
"What?"
"Stay here with me" He repeated; removing his arm from its place around my waist, and using his hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear "You know Ali won't be awake before noon—"
"We—Jason, we—"
"Don't tell me we can't."
"But we can't" I persisted; pulling away, and finding that I am completely unable to suppress the almost wrenching sensation of emptiness that assails me as a result "If she wakes up, or your parents do—"
"My parents haven't barged into my room since I was fifteen, and Alison knows better."
"Does she?"
"Yes, Ava. She does."
With a sigh, I realize that I have been rather easily defeated, even though I set out never meaning to be; my eyes meeting Jason's willingly, and this time not turning away almost immediately as I once again take up the act of leaning against him while his arm snakes itself back around my waist. Almost automatically, I find that I am letting him lean backwards; dragging me with him until we are curled together on top of the comforter of his bed. And even in spite of how I am still slightly apprehensive over someone finding us together like this, I cannot quite fight against the sudden pull of exhaustion against my eyelids; the sensation of Jason's arm tightening its hold on me while my hand drifts up to rest against his chest finally lulling me to some semblance of sleep…
…
In contrast to that memory, I was unable to catch even a single hour of sleep after returning from Emily's house; my eyes burning as I stare into the mirror, and try to force them open while I apply some mascara. The task is harder than I had anticipated, of course, and I find that I am forced to pull back from the mirror and blink several times in a futile attempt at clearing my vision; until the appearance of Spencer already ready to go in the doorway to my room stalls me, and I turn to face her with one brow lifted in question.
"You okay?" She asked; eyeing the mascara brush that I still hold in mid-air, and leaning against the doorframe while simultaneously folding her arms against her chest in a pre-emptive strike against my almost aggravated response.
"Spence—"
"It's a valid question, Ava, and you know it."
"And it's equally as impossible to answer" I said; turning back to the mirror hanging on the wall to attempt another try at the mascara "Are you okay?"
"Touché" Spencer began; exhaling a bit, and squirming her shoulders experimentally while she stepped a bit closer towards where I stood, and adjusted the straps of her dress "I just meant since you were the first one there—"
"Emily was the first one there" I corrected; carefully avoiding another glance at Spencer, though I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, regardless "I just turned up after the fact."
"Not long after the fact."
"Still, Spence, it—I'm fine."
"Why am I not convinced?"
"Because you know me too well for my own good?"
"That's what I was hoping you'd say" Spencer replied; bumping her shoulder against my own, and managing a weak smile at my exasperated huff over having just removed the mascara brush from my eye in the nick of time "You know, applying that stuff is probably pointless, right?"
"Try telling Mom that."
"I'll let you take that on, while I keep a safe distance, okay?"
"That seems really fair, Spencer."
"I thought so" My sister agreed; taking a step away from me as I finish in applying what little mascara I had the patience for, and place the tube on top of my dresser. Though I am well aware that it is a fruitless effort, I inspect my appearance one final time in the mirror; my lips pursing into a frown as I realize that the fact that I have not slept at all is written plainly upon my features. Before I can spend too much time dwelling on that reality, though, Spencer is looping her arm through mine; the gesture rather effectively pulling me away from the mirror, and towards my bedroom door.
"You ready for this?"
"I kind of have to be, Spence—"
No matter how badly I might have wished to stay home, I know that I have to do this; if for no other reason than to attempt putting the never-ending sense of guilt that was determined to plague me ever since Ali's disappearance at rest once and for all.
…
Arrival at the church proves to be everything I have dreaded and more; the sound of hushed conversations from those who have arrived before us mingling in the air as they either went into the open double doors, and towards the sanctuary, or gathered for a bit of talking on the steps. Spencer, Mom, and I of course almost automatically move to join them, while Dad goes to park the car with a promise to meet up with us on the steps as soon as he can—but almost as soon as we have crossed the street, my false confidence wavers; causing me to become nearly motionless, until Spencer turns around and notices how I have suddenly lagged behind.
"Ava?"
"I—I'll meet you guys inside, okay?"
"Do you want me to come with you?" Spencer inquired; her question alerting our mother to my sudden halt, and causing her to turn and eye me with some show of concern.
"Ava, I don't think you should be alone right now—"
"Really, Mom, I'll only be a few minutes" I pleaded; my voice cracking in a way that is almost unbearable to hear, at least until I realize that it actually seems to have given her reason to acquiesce to my request.
"Okay, but don't be too long."
"I won't. Promise."
With some reluctance, my mother appears to mull over and finally accept my assurance; her arm extending to wind around Spencer's shoulders so that she can direct her towards the steps, where she must have seen Emily and her mother waiting as well. And before she can change her mind, and turn back to try and convince me to join them, I hurry towards the small walkway next to the church stairs; my heels clicking against the sidewalk until suddenly they become muted as I make the transition from cement to grass.
Say what you want about churches, and their tendency, at least to me, to put one on the edge of their seat, but there was something about the little garden at this one's side that was almost peaceful…
Almost immediately, I feel some of the pent up nerves that had been plaguing me since the discovery of Ali's body abate; my shoulders relaxing just a bit as I meander over towards the small pond at the far end of the garden. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the shrubs that flank the water; even going so far as to make the skirt of my dress move just a bit, while a strand of my hair blows in front of my eyes—and then I hear it. The slight snap of a twig that has me whirling to face the source, my eyes blowing wide as I realize exactly who it is that has caused me to lose what little solitude I had so recently gained.
"Ava Hastings?"
"Yes?"
"Detective Darren Wilden" The man elaborated; flashing a badge at me, and unintentionally causing me to squint as a bit of sunlight glints off of the metal and into my eyes "I'd like to ask you some questions about Alison DiLaurentis. The two of you were friends, right?"
"I—we were, yes" I replied; instinct prompting me to fold my arms against my chest, while a shiver of apprehension causes my spine to straighten "But I was already questioned after Ali disappeared—"
"You and your friends are going to be questioned again, now that Alison's body has been found."
"Are we all going to be questioned at her funeral?" I questioned; shifting my weight just a bit on my feet, and hoping that my voice carries more certainty than I am really feeling "That seems—appropriate—"
"Yeah, well, I take my chances where I can get them" The Detective stated; shifting his suit jacket just a bit so that he can slide both hands into his pants' pockets, while simultaneously showing me a smile that had more danger to it than comfort "Why are you out here, and not with your friends?"
"I needed some air."
"You're sure it's not from a guilty conscience?"
"Why—why would it be?"
"Because I think you remember the nature of the questions we asked you as well as I do."
Just like that, whatever tentative peace I had evaporates, and I am left with a stunning sensation of raw nerves; my breath catching in my throat as I try and inevitably fail to maintain the façade of calm reserve that I had somehow possessed just moments before. A year had passed—only a year, and yet I still felt the stranglehold of suspicion that the Rosewood P.D. had placed around me as though it were yesterday.
Though I had hoped time would assist in regaining at least some memory of what had happened that night, my mind was still, almost mockingly, a complete blank.
"You do remember, don't you?" Wilden pressed; stepping just a bit closer to me, and rather obviously failing to suppress the way his mouth tugs up at the corner in response to my rather rapid step back "Your little episode of amnesia was pretty convenient."
"You might be the only one who sees it that way."
"It won't be that way for very long. When investigations turn from missing persons to homicide, you would be surprised how quickly the public's viewpoint turns against the one that was initially painted as the helpless victim."
"That's what you think I am?"
"I think that's what you pretend to be. I'm sure we'll find out the truth soon enough."
"You won't find anything without a warrant and proper legal representation for my daughter."
Mom…
"Mrs. Hastings" Wilden acknowledged; his expression remaining the very picture of civility, although I am not blind to how his eyes narrow in minute disappointment while my mother steps closer to stand at my side "Always a pleasure."
"I'm sure it is. Would you care to tell me why you've cornered my daughter in the garden when she should be going inside for a funeral?"
"Your daughter is a part of an on-going investigation, especially now that her friend's body has been found—"
"Ava, go back to the church."
"Mom—"
"Go back to the church, honey" Mom repeated; managing a squeeze of my shoulder before she is turning me around and giving me a gentle push towards the garden's entrance "I'll be right behind you."
Realizing that I appear to have absolutely no choice in the matter, I spare one final glance for my mother before turning and heading away from both her, and Detective Wilden; and stumbling just a bit as my heels catch on a lump of grass in my haste to get away. I can hear Mom's voice, hushed but no less fierce as she lights in on the Detective about interrogating a minor without an adult present—but somehow, even that is not enough to resettle my shaken nerves; and I find that I am only too glad to rush towards the exit of the little garden, and go inside the church.
Or at least, I am until I round the corner that leads to the church steps, only to collide with someone heading in the opposite direction, and very nearly falling flat on my rear-end, but for the hand that latches onto my arm; preventing me from falling, but also forcing me to look up at someone I would never have been prepared to see in a million years…
…
Hello there, my lovelies! And welcome to yet another new chapter! I can honestly say I am blown away by all of the wonderful support this story is receiving! I really, sincerely appreciate how kind each of you has been with the feedback; and I truly don't know where I'd be without it! Special thanks, of course, goes out to last chapter's reviewers: Pllfan, Hope10, Warriorqueen, Princess1, Lady Bird, and Guest, Guest2, and Guest! I truly do appreciate the support, and like always I cannot wait to hear what you all think of this latest chapter!
Until next time…
MOMM