This is a bit cheap, but I'm advertising the fanfiction I'm going to write after Rick, called The American Dynasty. I've put the first chapter up as a bit of a sneak preview, so can y'all read it now and give me some feedback on how it feels, so that I can get rid of any mistakes or weak points now. Thank you very much my dear readers.

Anyway…

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR FIFTY REVIEWS! You're all such wonderful people for reviewing and keeping this story alive! Thanks very, VERY much!

Onto business:

The Scarlet Sky: I'm not giving away any of my secrets, but keep on thinking and predicting, because knowing that I've written a story that causes so much analyzing on the part of at least one reader makes me very proud and satisfied. I'm sure you'll get much enjoyment out of the end when it finally comes. Thank you once again for reviewing. By the way, it was the psychiatrist, not the guard, so Ann isn't famous (or infamous), and the doctor will have had a lot of background info on Rick's family and friends. Ann is important in this story though, so hold on to your interest on that part.

VarekaiSoleil: On that note, I suppose I must start updating more regularly, since school is starting again for me in September (aaaaaargh!), but hopefully I won't destroy your education with one more chapter. ;) Keep reading my friend, your support means a lot to me.

Hay Lin rox: Maybe…or maybe not…

Nina: Thanks! I hope you enjoy this next instalment.

Jay Bird12: I am stunned by your kind words. That my story should rate so highly with you is a compliment indeed. I'm glad that it exceeded your expectations and that you enjoyed it so. Keep reading and I hope that it's inspired you to pen great works!

Laura: Thanks!

Lotusbrody: It would be my pleasure to assist you in any way I can. Give me a buzz at and we'll take a look at your ideas! Keep reading and have fun!

Ohtar: I'm guilty of digital psychosis. Many-a-time I've brutally slaughtered dozens of fictional characters in a anger-fuelled killing spree. Luckily it hasn't gone beyond the virtual world…yet… Enjoy!

To be quite honest with all of you, this chapter seems a bit of a dud to me. I don't think much happens in it, but it had to be written to advance the plot somewhat. Rick experiences a big change in his outlooks on Popuri, Karen and life in general. Don't be disappointed if this chapter seems a little non-eventful, but it'll help get things rolling again.

Let's read.

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Chapter 12: What He Thinks.

It is cloudy here at the prison today. Cloudy skies, cloudy moods. When the sun is shining, the incarcerates are more boisterous (read violent) and occasionally a scuffle breaks out. Despite my lanky frame and passive demeanour, I am never a target of much bigger, stronger and more violent men. They do not dare. They are afraid of me and I see that it is well-founded.

A few spots of rain hit the bullet-proof glass of my window. I look up from writing this battered manuscript and frown at the tears of heaven. In the cell across from me, I know that Max "The Axe" Farrell is heaving melancholic sighs; a truck driver who murdered eight people with the same hatchet and yet weeps uncontrollably during sad movies.

I do not weep. I merely frown and ponder on the world's cruelty. If my life had proceeded in the same vein as the fall of 2003, I would still be working on that farm, free of any of nature's sadistic actions and celebrating my return to the fold, that sweet, wonderful cluster of health and normality.

The guard came in a few moments ago, interrupting my regret-filled voyage into the past. He is a young man, in his mid-twenties. Many a time, on his break, I have seen him reading voraciously through a book entitled: Serial Killers of the Past and Present. I knew from the moment he unlocked and pushed, with some difficulty, the steel door open, that his entry was not on official business.

"Uh," he asked hesitantly, "Mr. Kinsey? Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure you can Carl," I replied cordially, standing up and shaking his hand, "What can I do for you?"

"Well sir," he began. I noticed he did not mind my informal name usage, which gave me further evidence that he was going to ask me for something quite big by the standards of the guards, "I was just wondering, you know, if I could, er, have your autograph?"

I smiled. I was not surprised. Recently, an explosion of autograph-signing had occurred amongst the population of the prison. The signatures of serial killers were highly valued by the morbid guardians of their cells and had even become a minor currency. Would you like two bottles of scotch? That will be two "Mad" Mike Giuliani autographs and one Sam Travis autograph please!

I did not usually engage in such neo-capitalism, but I had often wondered how much my autograph would be worth on the black market. I had refrained before, but I surmised that Carl would treasure the signature for itself and not how much it could be used to purchase, so I agreed.

"Of course Carl," I replied generously. Accepting the pen and paper he proffered to me, I wrote in fine script:

To Carl,

Be good; don't end up being the guarded instead of the guard. And always be careful of those who take too much interest in you.

Your condemned friend,

Rick Kinsey

I returned the pen and autograph to him. Carl was overwhelmed with joy, thanking me from the bottom of his heart. As he read my note, his face creased up with puzzlement. As he was about to leave, he asked, "Mr. Kinsey? What do you mean about being careful of those who take too much interest in me?"

I smiled again, but this time there was no joy in it. Not looking at the guard, I replied stoically, "It really doesn't matter now Carl. Just be careful."

Nodding emptily, the confused guard left and slammed the door shut, locking it. Once again I was alone and the clouds closed in.

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August went by without incident and the fall rolled in. Kai left on the last day of August and I would not have cared a jot if Popuri had gone with him, except perhaps on business matters. I categorically refused to do her chores at the farm.

Ah yes, the farm. Perhaps some of my more urban readers are already sniggering and claiming my agricultural lifestyle as a reason for my perverse affections. Laugh all you like, for they were virtually no more by the end of summer. Thanks to the re-aligning forces of Popuri's immature behaviour and the newly acquired friendship of Ann, I was back on path towards a healthier biological existence. Anyway, back to the farm. We had had record sales of chickens, eggs and feed. Zack was shipping huge quantities to the mainland every month and we were raking in the profits.

Not only was our financial situation improving, but my personal one was as well. Karen returned the day after Popuri's birthday and things went on as they ever had. My sister's claims of affection on the part of Ann were grossly exaggerated and my friendship with her had given me another bastion of support from the Inn.

As the leaves began turning gold and falling, I revelled in walking through the forest with Ann every single morning and we talked of anything that came to mind. Whenever we had time to spare in those early hours, we took golf clubs and hit balls from Mother's Hill to relax. We also spoke of the affection that each had for their other half; in my case Karen, in hers the ever zealous yet strangely muted Cliff.

"He's sweet," she once said whilst perfecting her drive at the top of the craggy hill, "but he's so damn quiet." (I loved her tomboyish use of the word "damn". If there was anything that annoyed me about Karen, it was the fact that she did not let out her closet male, explosions aside.)

"What are you going to do about that?" I inquired. Ann always had a plan.

"I don't know," she replied, peering out towards the dawn, tracking the path of her ball, "It's a pity it isn't a hundred years ago. Then I could seduce Cliff and then force him to marry me in a shotgun wedding. What!?" she asked, seeing me laughing fit to burst, "I would!"

"I know!" I chortled, "That's why it's so funny!"

"So, what's the deal with you and Karen?" Ann asked, setting the club aside and sitting down on a large, flat rock. She saw my expression and reassured me, "No, no! I don't mean it like that. What I mean is, you've got to admit, you're completely different, so how does it work out? Ooh God, that didn't sound too flattering, did it?"

I smiled, answering, "No, it didn't. Well, Karen and I aren't actually all that different. Sure, I may appear a bit of a dork and she's, uh, well, you know, gorgeous, but we share similar interests…such as blowing things up."

Ann grinned, before adding, "You've always been together. It's always been Rick and Karen; never anybody else. You complement each other nicely."

"That's true actually," I agreed, nodding my head, "I can't believe Popuri said Karen always has to be the centre of attention." I laughed at this. Ann did not, which puzzled me somewhat. I asked, "What? Does she?"

Ann looked uncomfortable. She squirmed a bit before making a reply, "Well… it's not that I don't like her."

That was always a bad start.

"But…" I motioned.

"But… you've got to admit that she is a bit – well – attention-hungry."

"How is she attention-hungry?" I asked, shocked by Ann's appraisal of Karen.

"For a start," began Ann, more confident of herself now, "she's always, always got to be the centre of attention, no matter what the situation. Remember that piece we did for the Harvest Festival a couple of years ago?"

I strained my memory, trying to recall the events of that day. When I finally plucked them out of a cluster of quivering, unstable neurons, I nodded and affirmed my recollection.

"She only started off as a secondary character in the play," Ann told me, "but by the end, she'd rewritten the script, put herself in the role of the main character, since "we weren't able to do the script justice", ha-ha, and then she even had to direct it."

I shrugged, "So? The audience liked it, didn't they?"

"Only because they knew she'd bash them if they didn't," retorted Ann, "That's not all. Whenever she does well in something, doesn't the whole world just have to know it? But when anyone else ever achieves anything great, then Karen steps in and demeans them. No-one can take her spotlight. No-one."

I sat silent. Now that I thought about it, it was true. Karen did see herself as the centre of the universe. She could be arrogant, vicious and cruel towards those who she perceived as threats to her so-called glory. I sighed and sat down on the dusty, early morning ground. It was the truth, but I still didn't want to accept it. If I did, then I knew that my relationship with her would be sentenced to death; perhaps a quick, merciful death or a slow, drawn-out execution, in which both of us would realise that our love was doomed, but would desperately try to salvage it from the deep, dark sea of destiny.

"No way Ann," I snapped, standing up, "No way at all! What the hell do you know about Karen?"

I rushed off down the mountain, unheeding of Ann's calls and protests. I was so infuriated that I barely registered Popuri staring in shock at my anger as I barged past her. Running over the bridge and down into the forest, I skidded past the hot springs and emerged onto the West Farm. It was nearly harvest time and a cloud of wheat swayed in the windy fields. I sprinted through the fields towards the house where Uncle Freddy lived and pounded on the door when I reached it. He opened it and stared at the breathless and panting visitor.

"Uncle Freddy," I wheezed, "This is going to sound weird, but do you think Karen is a nice person?"

He continued staring as he registered the bizarre question and then replied nonchalantly, "Of course I do Rick She's a lovely person. Why do you ask?"

"Long story," I gasped, "I'll explain later."

"Okay then," replied Freddy, confused about the whole matter.

"Bye," I breathed and staggered off.

"Take care," answered Freddy.

As I dragged myself off, I secretly calculated Freddy's answer. In retrospect, it was a pathetic acceptance, but I reasoned the following at the time:

If Freddy West thinks that Karen is a decent person, then that's good enough for me.

I turned and saw Popuri in the far distance, walking with Ann. My eyes narrowed at the sight of her.

You just had to bring it up, didn't you? I silently accused her.

I hate you.

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I still hate her to this day for what she did back then. It may have been my fault at the beginning and the end, but it was her fault in that most crucial middle and that was a crime that was far worse than any that the residents of this fortress may have committed. Heck, her autograph would buy the whole damn prison.

God damn it.