Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

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Okay, hope this pieces together well...

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When she woke, again, there was a moment where she didn't remember what had happened. Not that fact that she was dead, mind, or even in the neitherworld… That seemed as natural as breathing still felt. But she did turn to look for Beetlejuice, expecting to see him, maybe watching her sleep, like before. Only he wasn't there. In fact, she didn't know where she was.

It all returned shortly after that of course, and as heart wrenching as the renewed realization was, it was just as quickly pushed to the back of her mind as her stomach twisted within her, hard, audibly, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat since she'd died. She'd deal with that first. Then thoughts of Beetlejuice.

The room she was in was bare, save the small coffin bed. It was possibly meant for someone not quite her size, because she'd had to keep her knees curled through the length of the night, and the sides of it nearly cupped her body. But it was soft, dry, and better than she served. If she was a little stiff, so what? It was probably from all the cleaning she'd done.

Still she stretched, carefully, as she stood, and cast another glance around her, taking in her surroundings, before moving to the door. She was a little hesitant about opening it, this wasn't her house after all, no matter how welcome those two had tried to make her feel. But at another groan from her middle, she grimaced, and swung the door open, readying herself to face whatever was on the other side.

"'Allo!" Jacques greeted her, pausing in the middle of spooning some thick brown stuff into bowls. His jawbones curved, parted slightly, in that skeleton way he had, his mustache, which seemed out of place, perfectly groomed and twisted, in the way of villains in old movies. She hadn't really even noticed it, before. On him it seemed, charming. "Bon waking, Mizz Lydia!"

He was dressed in vertical blue stripes, alternating light and dark up and down the length of his cotton pajama pants. He was without a top, which revealed every rib and vertebrae, with a towel, this also blue, thrown about his bony bare shoulders. It was as odd a sight as anything, and all Lydia could think was that it didn't seem odd at all. "Good morning, Jacques." She greeted him, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Where's Ginger?"

"Right here, sugar!" Two hairy appendages appeared over the top of the table, drawing her cheerful face up to eye level with the wood surface, as she scurried to take her place on a much taller chair that the others placed there. "You're right in time for breakfast… Jacques here makes the best gruel in the neitherworld!"

Gruel? But even something that normally would make her hesitate, made her stomach complain loudly, much to her abashment, and the amusement of her hosts. "Ah, it zeems Mizz Lydia is eager to try my cooking!" Jacques noted in that pleasant, humorous way, she was already learning he had. "Vell, far be it from me, to disappoint, non?" He dropped one of the bowls of thick brown ooze before her, and Lydia tried not to wince as it jiggled, apparently of its own volition, and then continued to do so.

Instead, she lifted her spoon obediently, and stuck it firmly in the sticky stuff, pulling a bite to her mouth… It surprised her, more than anything because it tasted good. Like cinnamon and nutmeg, a hint of cream, and some earthy grain that wasn't nearly as heavy in her stomach as she expected.

She attacked the dish after this, finally aware of just how starving she was, and before she knew it, the bowl was scraped clean. Sighing slowly, her appetite finally satisfied, she looked up, to find the two staring at her with something like shock. Both their bowls were nearly untouched. Lydia blushed, but all she could do was lick her lips, attempt a smile, and note, "Jacques, that was really good. Thank you."

"When was the last time you ate, hon?" Ginger pressed suddenly, looking like she was ready to get angry again. "Ain't that fellah of yours even fed you since…?" And here she stopped, looking uncomfortable, like this was just the sort of thing one didn't discuss in polite company.

"Um, no. He was busy." More excuses. Even to her, they were starting to sound pathetic. "Trying to find out what happened to his memories… You know."

"No, hon." Ginger denied grimly, crossing her first set of arms across the table. "I don't know." A grim, uneasy silence fell between them after that, until the spider finally sighed, and with a shake of her head, turned back to her own meal, not saying another word.

It was Jacques who filled the thick silence, noting with a little chide to his roommate, "Ve are not zee ones to judge, Ging-er! Knowing so lee-tle of vhat 'as 'appened? Though I," And he crossed his fist against his chest with a proud note, lifting his head a little, "I vould not let zee past get in the vay of treating my lady correctly, in zee moment, n'est-ce pas? Per'aps zis, Beatle-joose, needs some time to spend alone, and think on what is important, non?"

That was probably the last thing he needed, Lydia thought with a little frown, staring uselessly at her empty bowl. Before she could say another word though, or even think of another word to say, the skeleton was filling her bowl with another large scoop of the nasty-looking, but wonderful tasting, brown stuff. "Eat, Miss Lydia! Vou must get vour strength back! This dying, eet ees not as easy as the comedians would claim it to be!"

This made Lydia laugh, unexpectedly, trying to cover it behind her hands. Dying is easy, comedy's hard… Jacques looked pleased to see her in good humor, and retook his seat across from her, digging into his own meal. It baffled her briefly, to wonder where the food went, once it was in his mouth… But staring would probably be rude, so she focused on her own meal instead.

After this, they ate in peace, and she foolishly thought that that was the end of the discussion. Of course this little notion was cured, as Jacques started gathering up the empty bowls, the meal done, and Ginger turned her attention right back to the newly dead goth girl. "So what are you gonna do, hon?" She pressed pointedly.

This stumped Lydia. Well, she knew what she ought to do, but… "Non-zense, Ging-er!" Jacques denied firmly, shooting her what could only be called a scolding look, regardless of his lack of eyes. "Eet eez far too zoon to be asking such questions… Zee lady must take 'er time, weigh her options… Zis Eez a very big decision!"

Take her time? Weigh her options? That was the last thing she should do… "I need to find B," She said softly, pretending for now, that the unspoken offer to stay, hadn't been offered at all, "Before he finds me… here, with you."

At this of course, no one could argue, and kindly, they made no attempt to. Of course the problem was, she didn't know where to find him… But she should still be able to call him, right? Just, not here. Maybe at the Freaky Eye-Scream Shop. That seemed kind of like neutral ground. As long as he wasn't still mad, anyway.

"I'll go to the Freaky Eye-Scream Shop, later." She decided at last, softly. "Maybe the Shocking Maul. Keep you two well out of the way, when I meet him." Jacques started to clear his throat, how she didn't know, but she gave him an even look, and he fell silent again. "You know I'm right." She murmured, still torn over the danger she was causing them. "If B shows up, and you two are anywhere around, he'll… I don't know. But I don't want you to get hurt."

"You really, think you ought to be going back to him, sugar?" Ginger ventured slowly, as if the suggestion might not be welcome. "I mean, look at all you been through so far for that guy… Don't do it just on our account. I mean, we may not look like much, but," And she included Jacques in her statement with a wave of her arm, making him stand up straighter, "We can take care of ourselves." A small pause. "It's you I'm worried about."

And it's you, I'm worried about. Lydia didn't say it aloud though. She just looked down at her ring. The ring she'd promised never to take off… And she'd kept that promise. And she always would. "No, I've made up my mind…" She began firmly, only to be cut off by Ginger, an equally no nonsense tone to her voice.

"You give yourself one day to think about it, hon." The spider instructed, drawing herself up to her fullest height. In her current position, it left her eye to eye with the girl. "And one night to sleep on it! If you still wanna run back to the fellah tomorrow, then won't either one of us stand in your way… But you just make sure that's what Lydia wants to do, you hear me?"

She could argue it, knew she probably should, even. But Beetlejuice, the way he'd been back there, scared her. She wasn't eager to go rushing back to him, when he might not be over whatever had made him so upset yet. "All right." She agreed quietly, feeling a twinge of guilt somewhere in her middle. "I'll wait." But not to think about it. No, she'd already made her decision…

She'd just wait one more day to put it into action. That was all…

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The day passed with intolerable slowness. Either Jacques or Ginger was with her all the time, as if to make sure she didn't renege on her promise, and run off to find Beetlejuice the moment their backs were turned. If they worked, which they probably did, they must have taken the day off, just to watch over her. It made her feel kind of like a guilty burden… Not from anything they said, but just because it felt like they were putting their afterlives on hold for her.

However, as slowly as the day passed, it did finally pass, night falling across the horizon as she gazed out through the small glass window in the kitchen. Ginger was cooking this time, she wondered if they often split it up this way, and like what Jacques had served earlier, it didn't look remotely like the food she was used to. Then again, it didn't really look like anything Beetlejuice would turn a fork to either…

She'd been pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room for the better part of an hour, driving herself crazy, if not her hosts, who politely demurred from saying anything about this display of rudeness. "Come, mon cherie," Jacques interrupted, just as she made another pass through the living room. "Ve vill play zee card game. Or perhaps, vith zee wooden blocks… Jenga?"

Lydia shot him as patient a look as she could, frustrated beyond all belief. She couldn't stand the waiting, it was gnawing on her nerves like something alive, and her hands had little semi-circles in the palms from the way she'd kept them clenched so long into fists.

But she nodded, slowly, well aware he was only being nice, and sat down in the chair opposite him. "So, what, poker?" Beetlejuice had of course, taught her to play poker… Within about a week of meeting him, actually. She was pretty good.

"Po-kair?" Jacques lifted one eye ridge, then chuckled, squaring his shoulders slowly. "I vill 'ave you know, I 'ave not lost at zat game in over fifty years, Mizz Lydia… But if eet eez vhat you wish to play… 'ow can I say non?"

They played their first game with little consequence, Jacques shuffling the cards like a pro, though without the flair the poltergeist always had. Of course, he used that flair to distract people from the fact that he was cheating… Suspecting Jacques wouldn't cheat, she kept her own dirty tricks in check, though when it had come to playing with Beetlejuice, it had always been no holds barred. And true to his word, the skeleton was good, but…

"Royal flush, bone boy." She grinned, slipping into one of her more irreverent attitudes, a little more comfortable now that she'd kicked his butt at cards.

Jacques stared, both sockets wide, and then chuckled, and shook his head in amusement. "Eet seems I cannot say I am unbeaten anymore!" He noted good naturedly, gathering up the cards for another shuffle. "I vould say vou are cheating, but no, surely not you, Mizz Lydia…! I am relieved ve are not putting any money on our games, or I vould be every skeleton's vorst nightmare… Broke!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the silly pun, in a good mood, having fun, and for just a moment, not worrying about what would happen next. "Well, I'd lay money on it, if I had any." She noted, snatching the cards from him with a smirk, and going into one of the fancier shuffling routines that Beetlejuice had taught her.

The skeleton blinked, which should have been impossible, tried to follow her hands for a moment, and then groaned, resting his skull in his long hands. "Sacre bleu… Vhat 'ave I gotten myself in for?" But he was, she noticed, smiling.

"Dinner'll be ready in two shakes!" Ginger called from the kitchen, peeking in to see how they were doing. "Ooh, what's that you're playing, hon?"

Not sure which of them she was addressing, Lydia let Jacques answer. "Ve are playing Po-kair." He noted dryly, waving his hand in something like defeat. "And Mizz Lydia, she is cleaning my clock, it seems." He shrugged, and accepted his hand as she dealt. "What can I say, se la vie!"

Lydia was picking through her cards, which to her chagrin were not as good as the ones Jacques had dealt her, when there was a sharp, short knock on the door, making both of them lift their heads in surprise. Lydia though, only paid attention for a moment, before turning back to her hand, inwardly worried how to react to whatever guest might be arriving.

It was only as Jacques had already gotten up to answer it that a sudden, paralyzing fear gripped her. She lifted her head, the words of warning choking in her throat as Jacques greeted the person on the other side with an, "'Allo, 'ow may I 'elp vou…?"

And all hell broke loose. Jacques, as she stared in horror, flew across the room in a burst of yellow orange light, falling in as many pieces as a skeleton could fall into, along the far wall, scattered. Beetlejuice strode in the door like the place was his own, turned his eyes once around the room, even as Lydia was standing, her cards falling from limp hands, and Ginger peeked her head in, letting out a squeal of fear when she saw who it was.

Then, deliberately, Beetlejuice turned back to the skeleton, who still seemed to be alive, just in pieces, and gave a nasty grin, advancing on him in a purposeful way. "B!" Said poltergeist paused at her cry, casting a brief glance back to her, with a scowl. "Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!"

His eyes narrowed, as he took in the fact that she was standing up to him, and he didn't even notice as Ginger scurried across the floor, doing her best to hastily pick up her friend's pieces. "You're sitting here, making time with some other guy," Beetlejuice growled, "And you expect me to just let him walk away, without grinding him into dust? You must be thinking of some other ghost, babes…"

He turned back, to see them both standing before him now, and the look of fury on his face sparked further. He twitched his fingers, and an eerie flickering light flew up around his hand, caressing the long digits like the licking of a flame. "Two birds, one stone." He noted bluntly, about to engulf them both in his powerful light, until nothing remained…

Only to find himself staring at Lydia, who had run between her new friends, and her best friend, arms stretched wide, eyes wild, defying him to use that power on her, to get to them. "You wanna hurt them, B," She whispered, her voice shaky, her mouth dry, but her eyes flashing with unwavering determination, "You go through me."

Beetlejuice just stood there, dumbfounded, unable to accept that she was defying him this openly. Pretty much daring him to use his powers against her. His lips peeled back slowly in fury. "You think I won't, babes?" He hissed, his fingers closing into a fist, the 'flames' around them growing brighter. "You willing to bet your afterlife on it?"

"If I have to." Her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper, and in the hypnotic light of his unleashed energy, tears gleamed wetly in the goth girl's eyes. "You know it's the only damn thing I can do… You're too strong for me to do anything else. But if they're gonna die here, I'm not gonna let you get anything out of this but death."

Beetlejuice's features, furious through all of this, slowly grew thoughtful, calculating. "You ain't afraid to die again, doll?" He whispered, taking a decided step towards her, only to find her unwilling to yield even this much in return. "There ain't no afterlife waiting for you after this one…"

"And neither are you." She whispered. The words, for the first time, made him visibly falter. "If I'm willing to risk that, what weight does my own soul hold to me?"

For a long, long time, this standoff continued. Neither one's gaze so much as flicked from the other's. The light of his energy, rather than dampening, was continuing to build, until it burned white hot in the former gloom of the little house. Colors of green and purple twisted through it. The look on his face was stone, but his eyes were furious, as he weighed the resolve of the girl before him, and how much he was willing to lose.

"Damn it, babes…" He whispered at last, his expression growing slowly more open, more human, but no less angry. Now though, something like hurt as well. "What were you thinking… You really thought I was gonna throw your ass out? I was pissed, you gotta expect that sometimes!"

"I was scared." Lydia said softly, making him shift, in what seemed to be discomfort, and finally turn his gaze aside, just a little. So he was still looking at her, but just not straight on. "I was gonna call you," She went on, more softly, "Tomorrow. After you maybe weren't so angry anymore. I wasn't gonna stay away."

"Yeah?" He sounded more like he was sulking now, than really angry. "Why the hell should I believe that?" He looked rather like someone who'd been asked to share a favorite treat, with someone they didn't even know. "You just take off…"

"You made me leave!" Lydia was as surprised as anyone when this came out near a shout, and then surprised herself again, as she was the one to advance on him this time, her hands trembling, her eyes shining, but her voice stronger than she'd ever managed before. "I was afraid of you! I'm tired of being afraid of you, B! You're supposed to be my forever, and you don't even know me!"

The simple fact that she was yelling at him, openly yelling at him, shocked him into just staring, silent, dumbfounded, at the volatile girl before him. He didn't even pay attention to the two other ghosts standing there, just as shocked, looking like they wanted to intervene, but held back by fear of the poltergeist she was so openly challenging.

"Do you even want your memories back?" As quickly as her voice had risen to a shout, now it dropped to a whisper, and she advanced on him again, this time making even the ghost with the most stumble back. "You keep saying I make you soft, or…" She gestured around them, feebly. "This! Telling me… Trying to scare me!" A pause, and then, no louder than a breath, "Are you ever going to love me again, B? Because not knowing, is way worse than being dead. I don't, know if I can stand it."

It wasn't really clear if he had an answer. In fact, after a lengthy pause of struggling for the right words, all he could manage was, "Babes… What are you saying?"

Lydia took a long, slow breath in, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, looked nothing less than heartbroken. "I love you, B." She murmured, all she'd ever felt for him, built up in those words. "I always will. I'd follow you anywhere, do anything to make you happy… But is that really what you want anymore? Because if it isn't…" Her voice caught, and she forced a smile, before pressing on. "If it isn't, then maybe I shouldn't try to force you."

"Until you're sure, B… Maybe you should go home. Without me."

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He wasn't thinking straight. He couldn't stop pacing. His heart felt like he strode on it with every step, his mind spinning, his thoughts full of cotton and sand. It had been too long since he'd slept. There was just too much on his mind. And through it all, he just couldn't believe that she'd asked him to leave him there… And that he'd done it.

I don't remember the last time I ate. The last time I slept. The last time I thought of anything that wasn't her! He'd cut his palms raw with his nails, and with every moment that passed, it felt more and more like she was being the unreasonable one. Hadn't he been the one that had to deal with some chick he had no memory of, expecting to be crazy over her? I am crazy over her. I'm completely fucking crazy over her…

Beetlejuice shifted the weight of his shoulders, straightening his back. Damn it. Damn it! This chick was screwing with him! He couldn't think of anything else when they were apart, and she went and asked him to leave her! She was being completely unreasonable! Messing with his head! He ought to go back there right now…

She should be here, with him. They should be in bed, sleeping maybe, or… It was fucking supposed to be different than this!

He'd go back there, that's what he'd do. Go straight to her room, and… What? He didn't know. His head was in too much of a fog. God, he was so pissed, he just wanted to hurt her! He kept telling himself that, over and over, he just wanted to hurt her… And any other thoughts, contradicting this, he forced away.

Yeah, that was it, he'd go find her. This wasn't finished yet!

With a twist of his power, and a moment's concentration, he was standing outside the squat, ugly little house again. He cracked his knuckles, moving around it slowly, looking for a window. Trying to see which room was hers. It'd be easy. She'd be sleeping. He'd… No, he still didn't know what he'd do.

Finding her was easier than he'd expected, hers was the window thrown wide open, as if inviting intrusion. He considered her, laying there, sleeping. So fucking beautiful she probably didn't even know it. It made him want to taste her, kiss her, run his fingers over her sleeping… What the hell am I thinking?

Shaking his head, he ghosted through the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets, his head hunched in sort of a hunted way, and considered her again. God, he could smell her from there. His body betrayed him, remembering everything he'd felt the last time she was in his arms. The fantasies he hadn't gotten a chance to play out. It started to feel like maybe, he should just play them out now. Just fucking wake her up, and…

He moved closer to her coffin, undeniable anger burning in him as he watched her sleep. Rape wasn't his game, it never had been. Just the thought made him sick. But he'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted that girl, lying so temptingly before him, and as much as he wanted her, he wanted to hurt her as well. His hands closed on the side of the pitiful box, all that was separating her from him…

And then he tensed as she opened her eyes, and saw him there, ready to do even he didn't know what to her. Her eyes, warm as pools of soft candy, as her lips curled in a smile on seeing him, and her arms reached without hesitation to draw him nearer. He was almost shaking, his body had gone so stiff, utterly at a loss for how to react to a greeting like this.

"Don't go, B." She whispered, her voice still dreamy, as if she hadn't really even convinced herself he was really there. "I'll do anything you want… Just stay with me, please…"

A shudder traced through him, and he found himself reacting to her softly spoken plea, climbing into the coffin with her, only to find that there simply wasn't enough room. Her fingertips danced along his throat, sliding down to seek the buttons that separated skin from skin, as with a wrench of his strength, he laid the walls of her coffin outwards, leaving the two of them on a thin mattress on the floor.

Lydia trembled as she felt his massive power sweep over her, her lips parting in a soft sound of surprise and fright, but offering no protest as his fingers began snatching greedily at her own clothes, tearing them away, leaving her quickly bare and vulnerable before him. A sigh fell from her, as his hands tried to devour every inch of her at once, her eyes still heavily lidded, still half in that place where sleep makes everything safe, where recent memory falls away, and takes its pains with it.

"B…" She breathed, her fingers scorching his skin wherever they passed, her gaze filled with emotions he had no way to understand as she willingly parted her thighs for him, clutching his hand to the soft roundness of her breasts. "I've waited so long for you…"

It wasn't what he'd expected, but god if he wasn't responding to it. His mouth was dry, his mind spinning, the taste of her pressed against his lips again and again. Without an ounce of heat, she burned him to his core, and he longed to taste every inch of her, all ideas of revenge or pain forgotten. She was soft and willing in his arms, her eyes filled with light, soft sounds of desire falling from perfect pink lips…

Spending not half as much time on foreplay as even he desired, he slipped into her with another little shudder, making her first moan aloud, then whimper in pain as he pressed more deeply. She went suddenly still beneath him, biting her lip, features uncertain, as if only now realizing that she really wasn't dreaming. She was frightened, and begging him with her eyes for reassurance, to let her know everything was okay.

Without even thinking, he responded to that look with caresses of his lips, of his fingers, until she once more went soft beneath him, making little sounds of joy. Until she grasped at him, and pulled him deeper. Her hair tossed over her face as he brushed it away with his mouth, tasting her excitement in the dampness of her skin, the trembling of her flesh beneath his questing thrusts.

She was so tight around him… Not just from being her first time, but from the swelling of her soft parts against him, driven by the excitement of his light, constant caresses. She felt so good that he almost swallowed his tongue, trying not to cry out from it. And from time to time, she would give a sensual little shimmy beneath him, followed by a moan that struck him to his core.

He forgot all his intentions of hurting her, his soul gripped by the tight grasping of her hands through his hair, around his back, touching him everywhere at once. Such tiny, delicate hands, that clutched him completely in their power, making him shift without thinking, at the slightest pressure, slow or quicken his movements, at their silent commands. And yet all without a thought to her own pleasure.

In fact, he didn't even know if she came, only that he did, with a suddenness that rocked his entire body, and left him feeling briefly broken, as he stared with wide eyes at nothing at all. He was shaking, and he didn't know why. No woman had ever done this to him. No tricks gained from centuries of experience had ever left him so breathless. And he didn't even need to breathe.

Still supple with sensuality beneath him, her gaze was dark with pleasure as she devoured him with her eyes, still seeking his warmthless, grimy skin with her lips. Tiny kisses, hot as brands against him. And when he drew out of her, she still didn't release him, pulling his unprotesting form down beside her, and drawing his arms gently around her bare flesh, until he was cupping her small back against the front of him, with amazingly, no desire to draw away.

She was still breathing hard, more from memory than actual need, the crown of her head resting temptingly just below his face, so that he had to turn it down only a little to smell her sweat and sweetness. Again, with no reason he could understand this time, a moan fell from his lips.

But already, her strength spent, secure in his arms in a way he couldn't understand, her eyes were growing heavy again, and he could almost see tangibly as she began to drift back into the safe place of sleep. As if there were nothing at all strange, about lying in the murdering poltergeist's embrace. The ghost who had killed her, only days before.

And then, just as she began to drift off fully to sleep, she whispered the words that struck him so hard, that it felt like a physical blow to his chest. "I love you, B…" Just a murmur, so softly spoken that she may not even have meant to admit it, and more honest than anything he'd ever heard. And all he could do was lay there, reeling, his arms curled possessively around this creature who claimed to love him. And for the life of him, for reasons his mind simply couldn't understand, he didn't want to let go.

Had he really come here, intending to hurt her? Instead he watched her sleep, warring emotions in his breast, confused and helpless, and liking neither of these feelings at all… And still not wanting to surrender either one.

It might have been hours later, before he summoned the strength of mind to actually draw away from her, though he had to force himself to close his eyes, in order to let go. But then, standing, common sense slowly began to return. This girl owned a piece of his soul, that couldn't be denied anymore, even if he wasn't sure himself how it had happened.

Damn it, had she really been the most important thing in his afterlife? Had someone really been stupid enough to take away what was his? His fingers curled into fists, and a murderous glint burned in the sunken pits of his eyes. His memories. Of something precious to him. Nothing had ever been precious to him before… And damned if he was going to let someone get away with stealing the one thing that was, whether he could remember it or not.

That was it, he was going to get his memories back, if he had to kill everything between him and them in the process. He couldn't stand it anymore, not knowing, not understanding these feelings that burned through him. He was going to get his memories back, and remember why that slip of a girl had such an unshakeable grasp on him…

Either that, or he was going to destroy them, and shatter her power over him forever…

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