Disclaimer: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children is not mine.

As soon as Miss Peregrine finished speaking, Bronwyn stood up and ran back inside the house. Victor got up and quickly went after her.

Claire, Fiona, Hugh, Miss Peregrine, and Olive all went inside to the kitchen to make supper.

Horace and Millard went inside to the library.

Enoch went inside and down to the basement.

Emma remained seated until everyone had left and when she was alone, she went to the most secluded part of the yard.

With Bronwyn and Victor

Bronwyn burst through the door to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed, sobbing.

Not one minute later, Victor entered her room. He softly shut the door and sat on the bed beside.

The room was silent for a moment, with the exception of Bronwyn's sobbing, before she spoke up. "Why Victor? Why do you die? Do the hollows kill you?"

Victor shook his head. "I don't know, Bron. I guess we'll just have to wait and find out by reading."

Bronwyn looked up at her brother. "If the hollows do end up killing you, how do they even get to you? They can't enter loops and Miss Peregrine would never let anything harm us."

Victor sighed, resigned to the fact that this conversation couldn't be avoided any longer. "Bron, there's something you should know."

Bronwyn tried wiping her, but the tears were still falling. "What is it?"

Victor braced himself. "I've been planning on leaving."

Bronwyn stared at him, confusion written on her face. "Why would you want to leave Victor? Aren't you happy here?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I was Bronwyn, believe me; at the beginning I was happy to be here. I could stay young forever and be with you."

"Then what changed?" Bronwyn questioned, fearing what he might say.

"It's just so repetitive!" Victor exclaimed, trying not to let Miss Peregrine hear. "I feel like I'm losing my mind here; here in this endless cycle. I want to go out, see the world, and maybe even help in the war like Abe."

"But do you still want to leave, now?" Bronwyn wondered. "After you've learnt that you die?"

Victor thought about that question carefully. He didn't have to think for too long, however. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry Bronwyn, but I'd rather take my chances trying to leave and be free than staying here because I'm too scared to try."

Bronwyn closed her eyes, letting the wetness run down her face. "So you're still leaving? Even though you'll be leaving all of us?"

"I won't completely leave, Bron," Victor protested. "I will write and I will come to visit."

"That's what Abe said," Bronwyn muttered. "He promised to visit when he left, he hasn't and from what the book implied, he won't. He promised to always keep in contact with Emma, and as the book has proven, he doesn't."

"You make it sound like you don't like him."

"I do," Bronwyn insisted. "I like the boy that always put a smile on Emma's face and has made her so happy. But it won't stay that way. He won't come back. He'll get a wife, have two kids, and have a grandson. And although I do like him, I like Emma more. Emma comes before him and when he hurts her, I'll never forgive him for that."

"You don't think I'll stay in contact," Victor realised. "You think I'll leave, get so amazed by the wonders of the world, then abandon all of you."

Bronwyn sheepishly shrugged, sniffling and wiping her tears.

Victor gently smiled at her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Bronwyn, I love you more than anyone else in this world. I. Will. Never. Abandon. You. No matter what happens."

"But what if you do get killed by a hollow? You can't control that," she objected.

His gentle smile turned cocky. "Uh, ya I can, Bron. I'm way too strong to let a stupid hollow get in my way."

Bronwyn gently laughed. "I'm sure you are."

"Mission accomplished!" Victor cried. "I made her laugh!" He pulled his sister into a bone-crushing hug.

"Ya, ya, you did." Bronwyn rolled her eyes and accepted the hug.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, just brother and sister embracing each other. Finally, Victor pulled away. "Bron, you don't mind if I go talk to Enoch, do you?"

Bronwyn shook her head. "Of course not, but he didn't look that upset."

Victor rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That kid doesn't know how to express emotion."

Bronwyn shrugged. "I guess so. We don't really know anything about him, do we?"

"Nope, he doesn't like talking himself," Victor responded. "I'm not going to push." He got off the bed. "I'll see you at supper, Bron?"

"Where else?" she countered, smiling.

"Funny." He smiled and opened the door and exited the room, making sure to close the door after him.

Bronwyn's smile fell when she was alone. "Please, Victor. Don't die," she quietly begged.

With Enoch

Enoch opened the door to the basement, went through it, and slammed the door shut behind him. He stomped down the stairs and and sat down at the table where he does his work. He made a fist and slammed it down, letting out a shout of pain. He picked up a jar containing a heart and threw it across the room, taking deep breaths as it shattered upon impact with the wall.

He leaned on the table with his elbows and ran his cold fingers through his hair, closing his eyes.

"What's my problem?" He questioned himself aloud. "My friend dies and all I do is torment his younger sister. No wonder no one likes me, no wonder everyone I care about dies."

Enoch paused. He thought about his little sister, one of his older brothers, the children in his old loop, and, apparently, Victor.

He shook his head. "Why do I try to care about people? I just get them killed."

His little sister: the only one of his siblings who definitely got the family peculiarity, absolutely loved him, and trusted him no matter what.

One of his older brothers: the only older sibling to show even an ounce of kindness to him; teaching him how to survive in their family, their terrible public school, and the cruel world.

The children in his old loop: who accepted his personality, accepted his dark humour, accepted his peculiarity, and didn't judge him for the way he grew up.

Victor: the only one in his current loop who wasn't scared away by the walls he had built to protect himself, was always kind to him, and never tried to force Enoch to tell him anything he didn't want to.

At the mental list made in Enoch's head, he made a fist in his hair, squeezed so hard that his couple-of-long-nails dug into his hand, and made some blood appear. He didn't notice.

"My only friend's gonna die and there ain't nothing I can do about," Enoch whispered, laying his head on his arms. "Everyone just leaves me. Why can't these people just leave me alone?"

Enoch's eyes were starting to get hot and wet, his nose started to get stuffy, and his whole body was starting to shake. "Why couldn't I've been born normal? I would've lived an ordinary life, but my sister would still be here. I never would've lost everyone."

He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. A tear was just about to fall when there was a knock on the basement door.

Enoch jumped up from the table, hitting his knee hard on the bottom."Fuck!" he shouted, swearing at the pain in his knee.

The basement door quickly opened and shut, someone rushing down the stairs. "Enoch? Are you okay?"

"Victor?" Enoch asked, holding his knee. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you," Victor replied, rolling his eyes. "Duh. You didn't answer my question."

"I'm fine. It's nothing much," Enoch stated. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

Victor sighed. 'This is going to be a great talk...'

"You're upset about the book," Victor stated.

Enoch narrowed his eyes at Victor. "Don't tell me how I feel."

"I don't have to tell you," Victor insisted. "You know how you feel."

"Yes, yes I do," Enoch harshly replied. "I wouldn't care if you suddenly died!"

There was silence. Victor stared at him with wide eyes, and Enoch even looked a little surprised at what he said.

"Really?" Victor questioned, his voice soft. "If your only friend in years were to die, you wouldn't care?"

Enoch swallowed. He wasn't going to take back his answer and admit he was wrong on it. "Nope."

Victor nodded. "You know, for someone who is the fourth oldest of all us, you act a lot like a kid."

Enoch scoffed. "What the hell're you going on about?"

"Meaning, that when you don't admit that you said the wrong thing, you sound like a child," Victor elaborated.

"I ain't a child," Enoch said, voice raising slightly.

"Right, because you're not always lying to my face," Victor challenged.

"You're the one who called me a compulsive liar!"

"And by the end of that conversation, you basically agreed with me."

"You're the one who's lying!" Enoch burst out. "You're the one who said, and I quote, 'You don't have to worry about me. I'm too awesome to die!' So you're the liar! You tell me you won't die and then you go and die!"

Victor cautiously approached him. When he reached Enoch, he gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you upset because you think that I'll leave you?"

It was silent for a minute, before he slowly nodded his head.

He sighed. "Listen to me, Enoch. I am not leaving you. There is no proof that this book is real. You're a very close friend to me."

"But I know you still want to leave," Enoch protested. "You'll get so amazed by the outside world that you'll forget about us."

Victor shook his head. "I could never forget you guys. Especially because you and Bronwyn are here. I will write and I will visit when I can.''

Enoch nodded, but he didn't look at all convinced. "To put me at ease, would you change your leaving date?" At the look Victor gave him, Enoch quickly confirmed, "Not to something very far off, just a day or two before or after the original date."

Victor looked at him. "Would it really make you feel better?"

Enoch nodded. "Yup. If you want to stick to the original date, I don't mind."

Victor smiled at him. "It's fine. I'll push my leaving date back a day. It'll give me an extra day to say goodbye to everyone."

"Okay..." Enoch trailed off and it was just silence again before he asked, "So you ain't mad about what I said? You know, not caring if you suddenly died."

"Nope," Victor replied. "I know you were lying and people usually say things they don't mean when they're angry."

"Alright." Enoch paused. "Wanna go see how they're doing with supper? I'm hungry."

Victor laughed. "Yea, let's go." The two of them walked towards the stairs when he remembered something. "How's your knee? Still hurt?"

Enoch shrugged. "It'll bruise, but I'm fine."

Victor looked at him. "You sure?"

Enoch rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't start that up again."

With Millard and Horace

"So this is where you found it?" Horace asked, running a hand over a stack of books.

Millard nodded. "Yup."

"You didn't immediately lose it? Even when you saw the picture of Olive and read the summary?"

Horace got a cheeky smile in response, not that he could see it. "Nope. It just made me feel more curious."

"You are one strange fellow, my dear chap."

"Be careful, Horace. You're starting to sound like an Englishman." Millard laughed.

"Imagine that," Horace muttered.

"So," Millard started. "Are you still under the impression that the book is fiction?"

Horace sighed. "Please do not start that again."

"Start what?" Millard innocently questioned.

"I never said that I thought the book was fiction, just that it is a possibility," Horace explained.

"Okay," Millard said. "Do you think it's fiction?"

Horace looked at the ceiling. "I am not sure. However, I want to believe it is fiction."

"Because of Victor?"

"Not just that. We all know that it is a hollow that killed Victor in the book and if we have Victor's body, that means he died on the island. If he died on the island, it implies that they had some idea that peculiars were here. If that book is nonfiction, then wights and hollows have found us once and can do it again," Horace explained.

"Well, if telling yourself the book isn't real makes you feel better, go right ahead," Millard encouraged.

"Are you really encouraging me or just humouring me?" He raised an eyebrow.

Millard shrugged. "A bit of both."

Horace took a deep breath. "You are not helping."

He smiled cheekily. "Wasn't born to."

Horace shook his head at him. "Are you not worried about the future? I mean, you never know what's going to happen. Then, this book comes along and tells you a version of it that you don't want to happen."

"I prefer to not think too much into the future," Millard answered. "I think better when it's quick."

"Well not everyone can think quickly on their feet," Horace snapped back.

Millard looked briefly shocked. "Ummm..."

Horace took a few deep breaths. "I apologise for snapping. I just know that a lot of people worry about the future and not everyone can think as quickly as you."

"So... you worry about yourself dying?" he asked.

"Not just myself," Horace replied. "I worry about all of you dying."

"You haven't already seen something like that?"

"No," he answered. "Emotion clouds my dreams and I am emotionally attached to all of you in some way."

"Oh," Millard said. "Not even before you met us?"

"Nothing," Horace confirmed. "Besides Miss Peregrine, I didn't know any of you existed until we met."

"Interesting..." he trailed off.

"I suppose." Horace paused. "Why do you care? You have never asked me about this before."

"It just seems like you of all people would believe this book is nonfiction based on your dreams," Millard supplied.

"However, if I were to think of this book like my dreams, it could be possible it is false," he countered. "I believe I have already said something similar, have I not Millard?"

He sighed in response. "Yes, you did. I just want to stop taking breaks from reading the book and finish it."

Horace raised an eyebrow. "Yes. It is such a shame that our bodies require exercise and food."

"Finally!" Millard cried. "Someone who understand me!"

"Yes..." Horace drawled. "Anyway, shall we make our way to the kitchen to see how the preparation of supper is coming along?"

"Sure, let's go," Millard answered. "Let's go and get supper over with so we can finish the book."

"Priorities," Horace muttered.

In the Kitchen

"Alright children," Miss Peregrine said. "Miss Frauenfeld will go deal with the carrots. Mr Apiston and I shall take care of the chicken. Miss Elephanta and Miss Densmore can go set the table."

Everyone nodded and set to work. Fiona grabbed a basket then went outside, Olive and Claire went to the kitchen cupboards, and Hugh and Miss Peregrine went to deal with the chicken.

"Miss P?" Claire asked, her voice small.

"Yes, Miss Densmore?" Miss Peregrine made sure to keep her tone light and gentle.

"Will all of us be okay?"

Miss Peregrine smiled gently. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Miss Densmore. I won't let anything happen to any one of you."

Claire smiled at Miss Peregrine, having no reason to doubt her words. "Alright, Miss P. Let's go, Olive!"

Olive smiled at her and they both went over to separate cupboards to grab plates, cups, knives, and forks.

"Please do not move too fast with those, girls," Miss Peregrine ordered. "Those are my good plates."

"Yes, Miss Peregrine," the two girls said in unison, slowing down their speed.

Hugh had grabbing a chopping board and a slicing knife. He was chopping the chicken into smaller pieces.

Miss Peregrine had turned on the stove, put some cooking oil in a frying pan, and put the frying pan on the stove.

When Hugh would push the chopped chicken to the side, Miss Peregrine would come over and put it in the frying pan.

Outside in the garden, Fiona was growing some carrots to have with the chicken.

As she had just grown the last carrot and put it in the basket with the others, she heard a voice say, "Hi Fiona." Fiona turned to see Emma smiling slightly at her.

Fiona smiled in return. "Hello Emma. What're you doing out here?"

Emma shrugged. "Just thinking, I suppose."

"Well," Fiona started, "do you want to come inside to help me wash, cut, and boil the carrots?"

"Sure," Emma replied, her smile getting bigger.

The two girls went inside and set to work. Fiona was rinsing washing the carrots off. Emma had gotten a knife out to cut them. She then went to a cupboard to grab and pot and fill it with water.

As the pot was filling up, Emma called over to Miss Peregrine. "Would you please turn on another element, Miss Peregrine?"

"Of course, Miss Bloom," was the reply she got as Miss Peregrine turned on another element.

Emma turned off the tap and carried the pot over to the stove. "Thank you."

Fiona had finished washing off the carrots and was now cutting them into pieces. Emma would then come over and put the in the pot.

Just as Emma had finished putting the last of all the carrots in the pot and got a spoon the stir them, Enoch and Victor entered the kitchen.

"When'll supper be ready, Miss?" Victor asked.

"It's nearly done, Mr. Bruntley," Miss Peregrine replied. "You and Mr. O'Connor will be in charge of washing and drying the dishes after dinner."

Enoch looked ready to interrupt, but Victor elbowed him. "Understood." He then dragged Enoch out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

The chicken was now finished, so Miss Peregrine took the frying pan into the dining room to divide the chicken onto three serving platters. When she entered the dining room, she saw Bronwyn, Claire, Horace, Millard, and Olive sitting at the table as well.

She addressed Bronwyn, Millard and and Horace. "You three will be responsible for clearing he table after supper."

The three nodded in response.

She finished putting the chicken on the platters and took the frying pan back to the kitchen to rinse it.

Emma, Fiona, Hugh all exited the kitchen. The latter two sat down at the table while Emma put carrots on the platters.

Miss Peregrine came and sat down while Emma went to take the pot into the kitchen. When Emma returned and sat down, Miss Peregrine smiled at her wards.

"All right children, help yourselves. After we have eaten and cleaned up, we shall resume reading the book in the parlour."

I can hear it now... "Why didn't you write something with Emma?" and "Why didn't the parts with separate people all line up together?"

First: I was battling severe writers block. And I mean severe. It started when I was just finishing writing for Enoch, went away for Horace and Millard, then came back really bad for Emma and I couldn't think of a single thing for her.

Second: and this one might be getting old, but school. I had mid-term report cards, unit tests, unit projects, and (starting after Christmas break) culminating activities.

BUT! There is good news! I'm passing all of my courses for this semester. I have an A- in Native Art, an A in Healthy Active Living and Canadian Geography, and an A+ in Science. Go me!

Enough of all that rambling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm not a huge fan of it, but I can live with it.

Reviews?

Ninth question: What was your favourite moment in Library of Souls?