Good. Grief.

I'm going to keep this author's note short, because I know no one wants to hear why I've taken so dang long to update this. So here you go, the (VERY MUCH SO) long-awaited ninth chapter.

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Chapter 9: Salt for the Wounds

I went to sleep that night with my cheeks stained from tears. Just when I had thought I could never cry again, one more salty tear would roll down my face. Looking back, I saw that I had been in shock. I just went into the Wreck Room, having convinced myself that nothing had happened. But once Albus walked in later, the illusion shattered and I ran out sobbing. I knew everyone was talking about me, but I just fell onto my cot and tried to stop crying. Of course, that didn't work. I'm just thankful that the rest of D-Tent left me alone until the tears ceased, and I fell into a horrified, fitful slumber.

The next miserable morning, I mechanically got ready for the day. I had never even changed out of my work clothes, so I pushed aside the tent flap and walked toward the mess hall. It was hard to believe I hadn't eaten for days, and was still walking. I needed food, and now. No matter how bad it looked or tasted.

"Guess what, boys," a gruff, nausiating voice said. "Yer gettin' cereal t'day."

Whoo hoo.

I mechanically swallowed the slimy gruel they called cereal, all the while keeping my eyes lowered as everyone glanced at me. I heard the whispers of a few boys, things like, "I thought she was supposed to be all hardcore" or "She's just a crybaby." If only they knew...

I'm not trying to be some ice queen here. Come on, if you'd been through half of what I have, wouldn't you feel the way I feel? React the way I do?

Maybe I'm just whining...

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D-Tent dug in silence that day. It was... awkward, to be sure. I was used to them talking and goofing off, but they were strangely serene. I constantly felt eyes on the back of my head, and I would catch sideways glances from X-Ray, or Zigzag or Squid. Too emotionally drained to be angry, I merely kept digging.

My already blistered and sore hands were re-awoken with new senses of pain, and I bit my lip till it bled from the stinging. The rough wood grinding against my fresh wounds, it was torture. The sun was insanely oppressive nearing midday, and I nearly crawled to the water truck when it came around with lunch. I was ravenous, and I ripped open the little container of fruit and juice I got. My toes barely brushing the bottom of my hole as I sat on the edge of it, I sighed in exhaustion and sipped the sweet nectar.

After scarfing down my sandwich and nibbling on the stale cookie, I struggled to my feet. My knees nearly gave out when I put pressure on my ankle, still throbbing from that demonic sting. I was the first one finished eating, and I tossed my trash in the garbage bag in the back of the truck. Mr. Sir eyed me warily, but finished filling the last of the canteens and shouted for the boys to hurry up with their food. I collapsed down into my hole once more, and it took every bit of my will to pick the shove back up, and not just fall down to die.

Once everyone finished their food, Mr. Sir cranked the engine up and sped away in a swirl of dust. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand, still coughing every time I breathed it in. When it settled, I forced myself to slice into the earth once more, and with shaking arms, lifted the next shovelful of dirt out of my hole.

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A few hours passed. The sun had already peaked at its highest point, and I could feel the blisters on my neck. God help me, no one deserved this misery. This was Hell. This was the eternal damnation that countless souls will suffer. Digging day after day, hole after hole, five fucking feet deep and five fucking feet wide... and with this shovel, I cursed myself to another day.

"Don't think about it, you know, how long it's gonna be," I heard a voice say.

I looked up, and squinting through the hot haze, I saw Squid. He was squatting on the edge of his hole, nearly finished. He was also squinting, and glanced over the horizon.

"Sometimes it's better to thing about somthin' else. You know, like something you like. If you think about all the holes you're going to have to dig this whole time, you'll just go nuts."

I was mildly stunned. That was quite profound for someone who looked like their greatest ambition was to own a monster truck. He sighed and spit in his dirt pile. Yeah. Profound moment over.

Everyone was digging again. I reached up and wiped the sweat that was literally dripping off my face, and I'll never forget what I saw.

It was like a dream; he moved with such purpose that it was scary. A half-barefoot Barfbag was walking across the dusty lakebed. He was looking down at something, and it puzzled me. I struggled to get out of my hole for a better look, but I was just too tired. All that had kept me going so far was necessity.

X-Ray spoke up, talking to Barfbag. He asked the question that was on everyone's mind, was he alright? Did the sun finally drive one of their own mad?

Someone caught sight of Barfbag's destination. They stood up, screaming at him to stop. Barfbag reached his bare foot out, and everyone heard the rattling and the hiss, all before the mournful scream echoed my feelings as a hopeless camper.

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I didn't find out what happened to Barfbag until I got back to camp later that day. I crawled and stumbled a lot, but I finally did make it back. I had never felt so filthy in my life. I grabbed a shower token and stripped down to my underwear, not caring in the least that I was on display. This place had truly changed me, and in such a short period of time.

I didn't bother with soap. It would only sting the burns, blisters, lacerations and scrapes that covered, what felt like, every inch of my body. I slid the clean jumpsuit over my sopping body and stumbled into the tent. It was still fairly sunny outside, and I collapsed onto my cot. Staring up at the canvas, I closed my eyes and just lay there. I was too tired to even pity myself. How sad.

I sat up and sighed heavily. What is there to do around here? I never quite found out. I heard something echoing on the air. I--oh, God help me, I I know /I that can't be what I thought it was... It... it couldn't be...

I stood up, my aching body recharged with curiosity as I clunked to the Wreck Room. As I neared the doorway, my jaw dropped as my suspicions were confirmed. Of all the music that could play on the radio, the campers were listening to... The Backstreet Boys.

I don't think I need to convey my wide-eyed shock, let alone my disgust. And worse, everyone was hanging around like it was nothing. Barely anyone recognized that any music was playing at all, save for one guy who was slowly bobbing his head to the beat.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe I am an ice queen, wanting to make each and every last person suffer, but I walked over to the radio and reached for the power button. My wrist was snatched away, quick as lightening, and I was face to face with a guy. A big guy.

"Who says you can touch that, you little bitch?" He fumed.

I was too shocked to even notice what he called me. I was only going to turn it off. If they wanted music that badly, for the love of God, just turn the station...

He twisted my wrist and shoved me away, making me crash against the pool table, the wood most assuredly bruising my back. The brute turned the music up higher, as if to spite me. I shook me head and turned around, only to have someone grab my upper arm and nearly drag me out of the building. I shouted indignantly, and turned my burnt neck to see Albus dragging me.

For a split second, I panicked. This guy knew what happened, said he dreamed of me. Frankly, that petrified me. I didn't stop struggling until he let go of me on the porch. We were out of sight of the inside of the room, and he bent low to talk to me, looking stern.

"I know, the music sucks, but that's Thlump's lifeline, don't mess with it."

Pardon?

Albus sighed at the look on my face and explained. "All the campers here have something that keeps them going, that reminds them that there's still a world out there. A lifeline." He snorted. "Don't ask me why his is a crappy CD, but it is. He needs his lifeline just as much as you need yours, so don't cut it, alright?"

I nodded slightly, barely understanding what he meant. My mind had rushed back to last night's conversation, though, and I couldn't quite focus on talk of music and cutting something.

"Sorry," I mumbled distractedly, trying not to look him in the eye, but finding it strangely hard not to. He smiled gently, the very same way I've come to know him to.

He nodded and said, "It's a shame how we're too far away to pick up radio signals. Having to endure that music is punishment enough."

I smiled slightly, then it dawned on me; I had no idea what Albus was here for. He could be a murderer! Or a rapist! Real smooth, Madge, just wait till he drags you into a hole and...

I stifled a shudder and pushed those thoughts out of my mind. I honestly didn't feel that from him. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have by now.

"Come on," Albus said quietly, lightly nudging me to follow him. We were headed toward the opposite side of the camp this time, near the far side of the mess hall. As if reading my mind (of course), he spoke up, "It's a little shaded over here. We can talk by ourselves." He looked back at me, almost mournfully. "And there's a lot to talk about."

I nodded and sighed. He was right. He was very right.

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I was stumbling quickly down the hallway back to my bedroom. In my rush to not be late for school, I had forgotten something very important; my book bag. Funny how I forgot things I needed most when rushed...

"Madge?" My grandmother's rusty old voice carried down the hall from the living room. Her squawk reminded me of a parrot. "Aren't you going to be late?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and called back, "Yes, I'm leaving now." After grabbing my bag and sprinting back down the hall, I ran out the front door.

"Oh, shit," I mumbled and raced back inside to my grandmother. The bell rang at 8:00, I should have been there already, but I had to tell her I'd be home late, or I'd never hear the end of it. I found her sitting rigidly on the couch, watching a talk show on TV. "Grandma, I'm going to stay after school today. I have an extra credit art project to finish, so I'll be late getting home."

She turned her head and stared at me, her gaze making me feel invisible. I shifted my feet, wishing she would hurry and say something so I could go. I really didn't need to be late again.

After what felt like forever, she nodded slowly and said, "Child, is something wrong?" I shook my head rapidly, desperate for her to tell me it was alright to go. If I ran out before I got her permission to leave, I'd be "disrespecting" her.

She continued her stare, and finally said, "It's not safe for a 13-year-old girl to be wandering on her own after dusk." I nodded hastily, and replied, "I'll be home way before that, Grandma."

Her penetrating stare was giving me chills, and I just wanted to be out of there. She nodded again. "Be good at school, dear." I sighed in relief and nodded, running back outside. I looked down at my watch and slowed to a walk. What was the hurry? It was 8:03.

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End of Ninth Chapter

sighs I love you all. You know that, right? I love each and every single one of you who reads this. I don't give enough attention to my wonderful readers and reviewers.

... group hug?