! Yeah, I didn't realize how long it's been since I updated. Over two months! Yikes! And I haven't done anything with Sammy since Christmas time? What? Why didn't you guys tell me?

Well anyway, I was going to skip the Hall of Fame this time, but I figure you guys deserve it after waiting so long for a chapter:

~HALL OF FAME~
-Congratulations to all of you who got the question correct! You will be posted here if your answer was: Morpheus
~booklover29. You were the only one to get it correct in the actual reviews.
~pjoperson sent it to me in a PM.. Does that even count? I don't know..

~Other Hall of Fame~ For the people who didn't get it right... Or didn't try
-LalaBane
-Anonymous reviewer: Oh well
-Anonymous reviewer: ohhh ohhh ohhh- Sorry D: Wrong answer!
-Lemariz
-unknown lunatic
-Anonymous Reviewer: anon-K
-BananaBurger13
-luciangyffindordemigodandmore-Rockin' username
-Reptile Princess

But, lucky for you guys, I gave 100 extra words to anyone who guessed Hypnos, which is a fantastic second guess.


When Hazel thought of her dreaming reality, she felt sick to her stomach. It was late by the time she had awoken, and her mother had surely seen the gifts strewn around her. It didn't matter. How she had obtained the money, however, was a different story.

Hazel trudged down the stairs in the clothes she had worn the day before, her hair tousled. John was still on the sofa. Hazel groaned inwardly. How long would he stay?

The news paper sat face down on the table. Hazel picked it up cautiously, thoroughly expecting to see an article about the mysterious death of the owner of a certain pawn shop. Nothing.

Hazel heaved a sigh of relief. The house was quiet, save for John's snoring in the sitting room. Her mother must've already left for work.

Hazel vaguely hoped that Marie had the day off from work tomorrow. That day was Christmas eve; she couldn't work forever.

Hazel heated up the cold soup that her mother had most likely made for dinner the previous night. She ladled out a bowl for herself and a second for John, setting on a side table next to him. She took her own bowl up to her room, stopping to glance at her reflection in the mirror on the landing of the stairs.

Her hair was a mess of flyaway curls and frizz. She touched her tender forehead, were blood was still caked. She shivered at the thought of Ceres, forcing her to bow down to her. She would have to think up on excuse for the gash on her head. She had slipped or something on some ice or something along those lines.

Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, Hazel stumbled into the bathroom to clean herself up, wiping the blood from her forehead to assess the damage done.

There was a long cut where her head had struck the edge of the stair. It had somehow looked less intimidating with blood smattered over it. It was deep and grotesque looking. There were few possible ways of acquiring a wound like this. It looked as if a knife had sliced through her forehead to the bone. And boy did it hurt.

In hindsight she supposed, it had been more of a dull ache, more easily ignored. Now it hissed and throbbed with pain, making her dizzy. Unable to stand the gruesome sight of it any longer, she pulled roll of gauze one of the drawers, hastily wrapping it around the wound.

After she had washed her hair, her gnarled curls now controlled, she noticed, as she was pulling on fresh clothes, she noticed that there was blood on the carpet. She shoved her bed over the stain, though it looked awkward in the center of the room. She would deal with that later. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head.

She pulled at her coat, but it would not come free. She tugged at it until the stand clattered to the ground as well as the coat.

She heard John stirring in the sitting room. "Marie?" he called faintly. Hazel wondered whether or not she could leave the grief stricken man to his own devices. He'll be fine, she thought. What she really wanted was to get some snow to press to her burning wound. What she really wanted was to not have to worry about John Hannah, a grown man, being able to take care of himself. What she really wanted was to turn back time and never sell those jewels to Mr. Hannah.

But she wasn't going to worry about that now. Today was Hazel's day, and no one else's.

She ducked out of the house, buttoning her ragged coat as she walked down the street, which was slick with ice. It was her intention to see Sammy. It felt like it had been forever with everything that had happened over the past few days, and she just couldn't take in any longer.

She rushed down the walk, half sliding, half walking, contemplating how best to get Sammy's attention, and momentarily forgetting about the gash on her head. It was later in the day, but his mother might not appreciate Hazel intruding. She was probably preparing Christmas dinner, an even Hazel and her mother would not be attending.

Still, she could not shake the feeling that she was unwanted by Sammy, what with him rushing away that one day. She frowned, wrinkling her cold nose and crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself warm.

It was much to her shock that, as she turned the next corner, she bumped directly into the boyfriend in question—Sammy.

"Oh, golly," she murmured, righting her scarf, her cheeks burning.

"Hazel," Sammy look utterly delighted to see her, which surprised Hazel. It surprised her a lot. He hugged her suddenly. She stiffened at first, and the let herself sag onto him, the happenings of the last few days suddenly making her feel very tired.

"I…" she trailed off, pulling away from him slowly. "I…"

Sammy spoke up for her, the grin still plastered on his face. "I know my mom would love some help with dinner for tomorrow, if you're still coming."

"About that—" Hazel began, but Sammy cut across her.

"You don't have to," he assured her. "I just escaped. After she had me pull the turkey from the—golly, what happened to your head?" he asked, pressing his hand to the bandage. Pain shot through Hazel, and she winced.

"I slipped and fell earlier," she said quickly. "Look, Sammy, I'm not sure if my mother and I can make it tomorrow—"

"Sorry, Hazel," Sammy said, leading her by the arm in the direction of his house. "I think I made your head start bleeding again. Gosh, I feel so awful."

Hazel, wishing that Sammy would stop interrupting her but feeling equal glad that she was with him, reached up with her free hand to feel the cut. Her hand came away bloody. "Great," she muttered.

"What was that?" Sammy asked worriedly. "Are you all right? I'll take you to my mother and she'll fix you up properly. Say, where's your mother at?"

"She working," Hazel replied, feeling a little flustered from walking so quickly. And she was so lightheaded that she sun made her dizzy. She did not want to pass out again—that would be the second time in less than a day.

Sammy nimbly scaled the brick steps at the entrance to his home, but Hazel, clumsy with fatigue, stumbled up gripping her boyfriend's hand as she went.

Sammy's younger sister Linda gazed at them though the front window as Sammy pulled open the door.

"Hi," said the little girl, pulling on a lock of her golden blonde hair. It was arrow straight. "I like your hair."

"Go away, Linda," said Sammy irritably, guiding Hazel through the kitchen door. "Mother," he called.

A tall woman, leaning over a stove looked up. She looked to Hazel like the type of mother who might be in one of the movies that she saw at the theater when one of her friends could spare an extra dime for her to go. She wore powder-blue heels, a matching dress, and an apron. Her blonde hair, precisely the same color as Sammy's and Linda's, was cropped back, curling slightly around her ears.

She blinked in surprise. "Sammy—"

"This is Hazel," Sammy explained quickly. "My…"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she noticed Hazel hold her hand to her forehead. She hurried over, her heels clacking on the hard floor.

"Oh my," she said, gently pulling Hazel's hand from the bandage. Judging from her look of shock, the cut was bleeding even more than it had been before. "Sammy, get her out of the kitchen. Don't worry, Darlin'," her voice was soft, holding the native Louisianan accent, "I'll get you sorted out."

"She slipped," Sammy explained as his mother washed and toweled her hands.

"Don't stand there," she scolded him good naturedly. "Take her up to the bathroom."

Hazel was feeling considerably better since getting out of the cold and was able to make it up the stairs with no trouble. She sat down on the toilet, watching Sammy as he leaned against the sink casually.

"What were you saying to me earlier?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the porcelain. "About you and your mother?"

Hazel took a deep breath. "This is going to sound crazy." The words came out rushed and jumbled. "But you know how Mr. Hannah from Hannah Jewelers down the street died the other day?" She paused, waiting for an answer, and Sammy nodded. "Well, my mother was—is—seeing his son." Sammy's mouth fell open, but Hazel continued anyway. "And he's been sitting on my sofa for the past few days." She stopped then, contemplating whether or not to tell Sammy about the crazy jewels popping up all over the place. She decided against it. That was just too bizarre. And they were killing people. The thought sent a shiver up Hazel's spine.

"Golly, Hazel," Sammy said. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd say that you made up the whole thing." He smiled. "Is Mr. Hannah planning something for you and your mother? If he is, my mother will understand."

"No," Hazel said in a clipped tone of voice. "He's done nothing but take up the sofa and drink tea. And he cries. It's humiliating to see a grown man cry."

Sammy laughed a loud, and his mother came into the room carrying a first aid case. She unwound the soiled bandage from Hazel's curls and used a cloth to clean the blood. "What happened again?" she asked.

"I already told you, Mother," Sammy said impatiently. "She slipped."

"It looks like she was sliced with somethin'," she mused.

"Ice," Hazel murmured weakly.

"Well, if you and Marie join us for dinner tomorrow, I'll take a look at it again." She clipped the edge of the tightly wrapped bandage. "You are join' us, right?"

Hazel hesitated, and then nodded. "We'll try our best," she amended. "We're having some… trouble at home, though."

Sammy's mother patted her hand. "Well, if it's anythin' we can fix, I'll send Sammy straight over." She stood, straightening her dress and loped from the room. Hazel noticed that she was quite tall, something she did not share with her son.

"Your mother is nice," Hazel told Sammy sincerely. "But I suppose I shouldn't stick around to help with dinner. I may bleed on the delicious food your mother prepared."

Sammy rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, letting her lead the way downstairs.

At the door, Hazel realized that she hadn't gotten anything for Sammy for Christmas. She decided that it be worth asking to make Sammy happy.

She kicked her leg, scuffing her shoe on the hardwood floor. "So, what do you want for Christmas, Sammy?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll tell you tomorrow."

"But it'll be too late by then," she protested. "How can get it if—"

"You don't have to get it," Sammy said thoughtfully. "Just give it." He opened the door and pushed her unceremoniously from the house. "Merry Christmas, Hazel. And you and better come tomorrow."

Then last thing Hazel saw before the door shut was the flick of a blonde head and the flash of a boyish grin.


Sorry about the delay, I will try to have the next chapter up in about a week. And I will still hold to my 100 extra word policy even though it is getting very difficult to for me to write so much extra due to my copious amounts of summer work that I just want to get out of the way so I will have more time to write for you guys :D So 100 extra words for every review!

Thanks for reading!
Post-script: In case you ever wondered what P.S. stood for.. Anyway, I didn't edit this, like, at all. I put it up DIRECTLY after I was finished with it so please notify me of any errors. Thanks!