A/N: Here we are, ladies and gents. The last chapter of Lost & Found.

Okay, so not really, but this would be last chapter had I not added 8 more. The title of this one is "The Reveal", and it's definitely one of the more important chapters. Ready for a plot twist the size of a camel? Ready for CANON Fabina? Ready to hear me rant about season 2 a bit more? 'Cause I am! Thumbs up if you are!

Okay, now, this is actually a serious chapter. If I didn't miss the update last week, we'd now be on my favorite chapter, but alas, chapter 27 has now moved to December 27th. No matter, it's only 7 days away! Winter Break is now here and I'll definitely have tons of free time to write now that school isn't taking up six hours of my day. After nine months, Fabian and Nina are finally revealing their relationship to the world. Took long enough, right?

We have 8 chapters to go before this story ends, and if I hadn't added 8 chapters, this one would be the last. Canon Fabina officially starts next chapter, The Kiss, and the ones after that are 28) The Confessions, 29) The Flashbacks, 30) The Carnival, 31) The Beginning, 32) [CONFIDENTIAL NAME], 33) The Goodbye, and 34) The End. Most of them are understandable, but 31 and 32 are my favorites after 27.I know the fandom is dying out, just don't give up on me just yet, okay? Anubis is such a good show, and we have a good fandom too, sometimes. /Sometimes/.

/o~~~o/

"Daddy?"

It had been five months and I still wasn't used to hearing it.

I made my way to where she was, under the table, contently deforming a doll's features. "Hey," I sang, smiling, as I crouched down to her level. Emma was still only two, even though she'd be three in five months, so she was still a little squirt. "What's up?"

I watched her as she slowly pushed herself up from her position; I would've helped her up, but Nina once told me that for a toddler, Emma was very independent. Her short, light-brown hair fell in front of her face when she sat up and faced me, the whirring of my computer the only sound in the room.

It was strange to know that by the time Emma was a teenager, she wouldn't remember anything that was going to happen today. I couldn't predict the future, so I didn't know what would happen to her; but when she was thirteen, I could remind her about the time I revealed the truth about the photographs to the entire world on January 6th, 2013, and she wouldn't remember anything about this day, unless she watched the recorded reveal or something other than that.

"Vas happenin?" she asked innocently, shaking her head to remove her bangs from her blue eyes. Emma might have the same color eyes as I had, but somehow her color was prettier than mine was. It was a cement color, much duller than the sky or the ocean. Nina told me before that if my eye color hadn't been passed down to Emma, she probably wouldn't have remembered, much less gained the courage to send me the photograph in the first place.

A photograph started our relationship, and two others had torn us apart. With some manual labor and months passing, we had finally mended our relationship as best as we could. I was thankful that we were talking again, but something had felt off ever since Christmas, even though I couldn't place it. "What's happening?" I repeated her question as I picked her up from under the table, sitting her on my lap. She wasn't large or heavy at all, in fact, but all that would change in a matter of a few years. I hadn't been much of a father in the past five months, nor did I see Emma in person much, but it was weird knowing that Emma was going to grow up, form her own opinions, and talk in complete, understandable sentences.

I was going to send her off to her first day of Kindergarten in 2015. I was going to see her graduate in 2028. She was going to come home from college in 2032. She was going to find someone she loves, marry them, and I'd have to walk Emma down the aisle to give her up to whomever she was going to marry. It was scary thinking about that, compared to how Emma was right now, a small two-year-old toddler.

"Well..." I finally continued, "Let's just say that I'm not sure if the impact is going to be good or bad, but your life is about to change drastically, to say the least." I watched as Emma stood on my leg and, once again, started playing with my hair. I was too sad to stop her from doing so, even though I'd want my hair to look good for the livestream/Twitcam I was about to give.

Emma seemed to enjoy herself by playing with my hair, anyway, so I let my daughter have her fun while she still could. "Where's Mommy?" Emma asked me, smiling, bringing one side of my hair to the other.

I brought her down to sight, and looked her straight in the eye, blue on blue. "Mommy's somewhere. She'll be back soon, I suppose, unless Isabelle wants you to sleep over again," I rolled my eyes and laughed, not thinking about the fact that Emma probably couldn't understand 75% of what I was saying.

"Isabelle?" Emma wondered innocently, her toes wiggling and folding her hands together. I was scared for a moment that they'd get stuck together, but I brushed it to the side once I realized how silly of a fear that was.

"Yeah, Isabelle," I told her, grinning. "Your aunt. Your pregnant aunt. God, I can't believe she's pregnant...I'll actually be here for the pregnancy this time. Ha." I scratched the back of my neck, mostly in fear that someone was going to come and hit me and tell me how bad of a person I was to not tell the girl I'd had sex with my name, at least, but no one was here to hit me except me and my daughter, and I don't think Nina really told her toddler about the times when she was pregnant, all alone without the father, and only a straight-A student, a son who only went fishing with his dad in his spare time, and an eighty-four year old grandmother for support, comfort, and someone to fall back on.

I checked my watch, which read 6:28 PM, two minutes before I needed to start the actual twitcam. I leaned down slowly and kissed Emma on the forehead, and in return, she smiled at me, the sides of her eyes wrinkling, and that was all I needed. "Whatever happens, know I love you, okay?" I told her, even though she couldn't understand me fully. "I didn't really...I didn't know I loved you when I first met you, but you're my daughter and I love you with all of my heart, and I'll be here...for whatever happens to you after this, okay?"

I turned on my heel without another word, and sat down in my grey rolling chair in front of my desktop computer. My mouse hovered over the 'start' button, which was blinking, ready to be pressed. "Do it for Nina," I muttered to myself, moving the curser closer and closer. "She doesn't deserve to live in lies anymore. Do it for Emma, because she can't grow up without knowing who her father is. Do it for yourself, because you can't keep lying to the fans."

I glanced back at Emma, who was having a grand old time twiddling her thumbs and playing with dolls. This was it. This was the last day out of the many Nina and I had shared in secret. Her private life wouldn't be private much longer.

I clicked the button.

X

I couldn't explain it, but when it said "live" and the number of views went up, and up, and up, I felt like I wanted to cry, neither from happiness nor grief. Maybe it was just the feeling of being overwhelmed, but my eyes were on the number of viewers for a good four seconds before I realized that I was live, and I was broadcasting to all of them. They were most likely expecting me to say something.

"Hello, world," was

"Does anyone have any questions?" I clapped my hands together, smiling at my screen, the number count of views going up as seconds passed. 1,174. 2,009. 4,949. I suppose after all the drama the two photographs had caused, all the rumors that had been spread, anybody who suspected anything was tuning in, especially magazine article writers who were probably recording and documenting everything I was saying right now.

I didn't care. A few questions popped up from the viewers; I grinned before reading: "'Where is the little girl from the photographs'?" I read aloud.

"She will come into the picture later," I promised, "but for right now...I think we should supply a little back story. So, does anyone know the absolutely boring, incredibly weak way in which I achieved fame?"

"No?" I asked, when no new questions appeared. I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck in fear like I always did. "Well, okay. Here we go. So, in August 2009, I was sixteen. At that time, I was attending a performing arts school, because I could write songs and play the guitar and piano. No one was really friendly with me there; I had this one friend that I never really talked to outside of school, but so many people there just doubted my abilities."

I took a deep breath, thinking of the only person who hadn't. "I mean, yeah, look at me now," I laughed, gesturing to myself, the actual famous person, "but I admit at the time my songwriting was really weak." I laughed again, rolling my eyes at how stupid I was, how weak my writing was on the song I wrote, Lost and Found, all the way back in August 2009. "I'm surprised she even remotely liked it..."

Realizing what I had just muttered, I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. "But anyway, so I didn't really have many friends. I was a bit of a lone wolf. Just like anyone else there, I wanted to be...successful. Not famous, exactly, but just successful because of the music I had produced. However, in my case, I was...very shy."

Suddenly, I had tons of visions of myself as a sixteen-year-old, playing for Aaron, but messing up thousands of times before I finally finished playing the song. He loved the things I had in store, but he hated that I had no confidence in myself. I had remembered all of the sleepless nights where Aaron kept me up, trying to give me confidence with the Confidence Lessons.

"And that's also partially why I didn't have any friends," I explained, continuing. "But I knew I could never be successful if I didn't have any confidence in myself, but every time I tried to answer a question in class or something...I couldn't. I pushed people if they tried to 'help' me, even though I knew they were just criticizing me to bring their own confidence levels up.

"I started the performing arts school in the fall of 2006, after I finished 7th grade. But . . . everything changed when the fire nation attacked." I joked lightly. Some people commented things like "haha! :)" and "lol" but I knew I was just trying to lighten the mood. Aaron was most likely one of the 7 thousand viewers, because I hadn't told him what I was saying on the Twitcam, so I knew he was going to whup my ass the next time I saw him. Better have some fun before I die.

"No, haha," I smiled at the camera, at the thousands of people that were currently watching me right now. "But everything did change for me in August 2009."

I glanced behind me, at my nightstand, where the framed picture of Emma was sitting. If Nina could find the strength in herself to send me the photograph, I could find the strength in myself to reveal it to the world.

"Okay, now, guys, before you go all bitch on me and threaten the person I'm about to mention, you should know that we go back a long way, before I even met Aaron, and he was one of the first people I met on my journey to where I am now. I knew her before I was famous, so..." I smiled nervously, watching the comments pop up one by one. They asked who 'she' was, they questioned what I was doing, but I knew exactly what I was doing, I just...didn't know how to say it.

"So, anyway, like I said, I was alone in my school. No one believed in me, and that was really . . . downgrading. But . . . in August of 2009, I decided to take a few hours off my day to go relax in a coffee shop, maybe get some schoolwork or some songwriting done. And it worked for a while, the hustle and bustle of the shop helped me concentrate better than a silent environment, so that was good."

I licked my teeth. "It was good until a stranger sat down next to me and said 'hi'."

That was it, now. Nina was brought into the picture. My story, being told in front of the 5,629 people, the 6,224 people, the 7,008, 8,993, 9,355 people. It would only go downhill from here, and all these people, the numbers increasing by the second, would hear what I had been hiding since August 7th.

I opened my mouth to continue, but somehow, I couldn't find the words. I didn't know why; I had been practicing this speech in my head a million times since I told Nina I was going to do it on the first day of January, almost a week ago. There's a trash can in my room full of crumpled up, discarded drafts of the speech. I knew what I was going to say, so why couldn't I say it?

I decided to just speak as if I was talking to Mick. "I wanted nothing to do with her."

I laughed just thinking about it. If I had known that I was going to get her pregnant when I first started talking to her? I wouldn't have believed a word of it. "But she just kept pestering me until I shut my laptop down and paid attention to her. I don't know why she was so intent on talking to me, but she just was, and in the long run I'm thankful for it. Eventually, we started talking and I found myself more and more interested in her as our conversation continued.

"We weren't talking for that long. Ten minutes at most, and probably less. I don't know why, but —" I caught myself in the act. If Nina were watching this right now, if she was one of the ten thousand, one hundred and twenty-six viewers, then she'd be raising her eyebrows at me. She knew me too well to know that I knew what I was doing half the time. (True, the thing I was doing right now might have not been all the way thought through, but still.)

"Actually, I did know why," I corrected myself. If Nina was watching this, she'd be smiling at my honesty with myself. "She was one of the most interesting people I'd ever met, plus one of the only people to believe in me. And we had only been talking for ten minutes; if I could tell she was the first and only person to do that, then there was a problem with my schoolmates if a person I had known for six hundred seconds had more faith in me than they ever did.

"She demanded to see the song I was working on," I reminisced, thinking about the night we met. It seemed like such a long time ago. "I refused to let her see it. Everyone at my school, even some of the teachers, had continually downgraded my work. I was the only person that believed in me, and sometimes I didn't even let myself do that. But she...sorry, I should probably give her a name: Nina Martin.

"Yes, all those people who attend Nina's school: it's the same dirty-blonde who you know personally. Are all the puzzle pieces clicking together?" I tried to speak to all of them personally. I hadn't even met them, yet every time Nina spoke of them, my hatred increased. Who were they to judge, when they had no idea how much pain she was in?

"I'm not lying, nor did she pay me to say any of this. The Nina Martin that goes to your school is the Nina Martin that I'm talking about right now. So, anyway, I'll talk more about Nina herself in a moment." I figured that the people at Nina's school that were watching this — I knew the majority of the school liked me as an artist and a person, because if they didn't, then Nina wouldn't have figured out that I was the father — I was addressing them personally, hoping to stir a reaction.

I ignored all of the questions popping up in the box. I glanced at them for a moment; I caught "What?!" and "Who's Nina again?" and "Where are you going with this?". Maybe I should have answered a few of them, but if I stopped, I didn't know if I'd be able to get back on track. "So, anyway...she sat down next to me and started to talk to me. She asked me what I was doing, and after, like, two minutes of me just continually asking her to go away and her refusing, I shut my computer down and talked to her.

"She was annoying at first, I had to say," I admitted, laughing at myself once again. "But...then she started to show interest. And that was what reeled me in, since no one had ever been interested in me before. She asked me about the song. She asked me about the school I went to, and if I really wanted to go there or not. She asked me if I wanted to do anything with my music. She was so supportive of me in that small time we were talking; I still remember her telling me that she expected to see an album cover with my face on it in the future...and I guess she did, somehow." I smiled sadly. What was Nina thinking, when she actually did see my face on an album cover?

"I warmed up to her," I smiled, the edges of my eyes winkling in delight. This was the first time in three years I was speaking about the night we met...and it felt good to finally open up to it. I had been keeping it hidden for so long. "Eventually. She asked me more questions than I asked her, but she was always curious. And she's still curious today, and that's something I really admire about her."

I licked my lips, contemplating what to say next. I glanced down at where the questions from the viewers were being received: the first question, the newest one, read I don't get it. Is this 'Nina' girl what the 'news' is about? I repeated the question to the viewers and commented on it with: "Actually, no. Nina isn't the subject of the news I'm about to release."

I was surprised that my phone hadn't blown up with messages from Aaron. I knew he wanted the best for me in my career, and I respected that, but I was doing what I think was best and that was all that mattered. "Who the news really is about is the little child in two of the photographs that had been released in the past month or two. Hold on one moment."

At that, my computer exploded. The fans were probably putting the pieces of the puzzle in place, had most likely finally solved the Rubik's Cube. I knew that so many people had already thought of this possibility; I didn't know how the fans would take it. Would they look at me any differently if I called Nina a mistake? (She was a mistake, but it turned out to be a good mistake in the long run.) I smiled, a million emotions running through me, as I pushed myself off the rollie chair and walked down to the table, where Emma was sitting alone, smiling at me.

"Daddy?" she whispered, somehow knowing that she had to be quiet even when I wasn't using the universal signal of silence. I smiled sadly, not knowing if I was improving her life or ruining it, and I picked her up as she held up the butt-naked doll she had undressed herself, telling me, "All gone."

I laughed despite all of the sadness that surrounded us. Knowing she probably had no idea what was going on in her two-year-old mind, I sat her down on my lap and faced the screen. I saw a few questions pop up, but I ignored it, staring at the screen, licking my teeth while contemplating what to say. It was probably the only time that Emma hadn't grabbed my hair today.

"The news is about this little one," I announced, pointing to the toddler, my toddler, sitting in my lap. "She has caused me a great deal of trouble, this one here..." I turned my gaze to look at her again, and she had the most innocent look to her. I didn't know how to explain it, but I knew that innocent look wouldn't be around much longer.

Not seeing that innocent toddler look, that smile again, almost made me want to stop the livestream and cancel the whole reveal. Almost, at least. I had to fight with myself not to click the square button, to continue to do the right thing, to give Nina the justice she deserves. I was doing this for her. For Nina. It was all for her. When Emma smiled at me, I smiled back and tickled her stomach, making her laugh while trying to grab my hands and pull me away from making her have such joy.

Eventually, I stopped when a bunch of 'dings' confirmed that there were more questions in my inbox. With Emma still laughing from memories of the tickling and me smiling in response, I read the question out loud: "Isn't that the little girl that was in both of the photographs?' Why, yes. Yes she is. I have her with me tonight because I think I'm doing the right thing by admitting to the truth before the truth caught up to me first. I'm guessing some of you guys have already guessed this little girl's connection to me...and I'm here to say if it's true or not."

I glanced down at the comments box, reading the newest one: Isn't the little girl 'Nina's niece? I believe that's what you said a few months ago, forgive me if I'm wrong. I cringed at the comment, but I read it aloud and continued with: "Well..." Even I laughed at the face I was making, mirrored back to me in the screen. "Not really."

The truth was finally coming. "Okay, what I'm about to say, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It's going to sound completely far-fetched, but it's the complete, 100% truth. I promise that to all those who are watching and are wondering what the secret I've been hiding for so long is. And now...here it is...the truth...Just spit it out," I read aloud a question that had just popped up. I licked my lips in exasperation before saying, "Okay. I will. This little girl that I'm holding in my arms is Nina's daughter.

"While that may not come as a shock to some of you, I had been telling the entire world that Emma here — Emma's her name if you were wondering — was Nina's niece, but that was only to keep them away from any attacks or cruel words that people may have been spewing about her already. However, the people at Nina's school would know that Emma here, in the photograph, was her daughter, but outside people to her wouldn't know, of course. So yeah, Emma's her daughter. Nina was a teen mother, and she still is, considering the fact that she's still seventeen. I can see the rude and mean comments from all of you coming now, downgrading her because she slept with a person she really liked. Is that so bad? That she had sex and got pregnant accidentally, and cared too much about the baby inside of her to give it up? Does that make her a bad person?

"No," I announced, not smiling at the camera. Rude comments were piling in from viewers slowly but surely, downgrading her because of the fact that she'd had sex at fifteen, as if it was such a big deal. "And now here comes the real reveal," I laughed manically, some of it geared toward the hate that was being sent to my inbox as I spoke. People were so dumb sometimes, it made me want to cry. "The person she slept with, when she was fifteen, was me."

That was the ignition that started the flames. Questions and exclamations piled into the inbox, one crazed reply after the other. If I thought their reactions now were bad, imagine what would happen when I told them who I was to Emma...and, speaking of her, she seemed to realize that her tiny hands were still, and was now reaching across my lap to play with my fingers, much bigger than hers, and I let her enjoy herself while she still could.

"I know, I know," I apologized to all the fans who were most likely insulted because I had kept a secret from them for so long, which was something I wasn't happy about, but was something that needed to be done. One of the "questions", per say, that had appeared in my inbox only seconds ago but had stuck with me: What?! How could you keep this big of a secret from us?!

"I'm sorry," I frowned, "I was just...this is...really big of a secret, guys. And I'm presuming the person who sent that message knows where I'm going with this, so I'm jut going to come out and say it. Emma Martin is my daughter."

It was the end. Nina and I wouldn't have to live in secret anymore. Now that the entire world knew of our relationship and what we had with each other, she didn't have to hide her face. She wouldn't have to cry herself to sleep anymore because Emma would never, truly, have a father. "I'm so sorry for not telling you guys earlier," I quickly apologized, unable to move my arms thanks to my toddler grabbing both of them.

"I wish I could have, I really do!" I exclaimed, staring at the bottom of the screen, where all the nasty messages were coming in. And some of them were nasty; most of them were aimed to Nina, calling her words that she wasn't at all, but some of them were even aimed to me; saying that I betrayed the fans by keeping this secret, that I was a horrible person for not telling anyone.

"You have to understand why I couldn't tell," I told to the 10,256 people, the 11,992 people, the 12,376, 14,005, 15,633, all that were watching my twitcam and watching me reveal the truth to the world without a warning. I couldn't imagine being on the other side of this twitcam. "This is...really big news. And trust me, it came as quite a shock to me as well, back when Nina sent the photograph!"

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I glanced back to the comments section for a second. All the disgusting words they were calling Nina were just that: disgusting. They were calling her those words because of the defense mechanism they had in themselves, of course, being overprotective of someone they liked. But it still didn't excuse them calling her a slut, a whore, an irresponsible tramp, and worst of all, liar. She wasn't lying. I was telling the truth live, and yet people still didn't believe me?

However, there was one comment that wasn't calling out Nina: The photograph? What photograph?

16,187. 17,590. The numbers were increasing. I needed to continue the story. I wanted to curse out all of the viewers, saying that Nina didn't deserve this kind of treatment, but I decided to answer the question. "On August 7th, 2012, Nina sent me a photograph of this little girl here," I held Emma up higher, so for the 18,345 people to see her more clearly.

"Cookie," Emma unnecessarily commented, making me smile. Emma was the only bright thing, the only light at the end of the tunnel, that was keeping me going. All of this sudden hate to Nina was unnecessary; I knew the fans were just being protective, but Nina was a human being, just like they were. She deserved equal treatment, especially considering all she's been through.

"I didn't know who it was, of course," I told the, now, 19,002 viewers watching the videostream. "Until I turned the photograph over and it said I thought you should know that you have a daughter. Signed, Nina, and it's stuck with me to this day, because I still haven't gotten over the absolute shock I felt at that moment. Here I was, staring at a young girl who bared a similar resemblance to me, yet not knowing that I was her father. And then suddenly I find out that I am her father."

No one said anything against my explanation over my story with Nina; so I decided to tell them everything. I described what she looked like the first time I saw her in three years, when I reunited with her in her house; I told them about meeting Emma for the first time, how she just ran into my arms like she had been in them before; I spoke about the first time she came over my house, when she met my friends, when I met her friends, when she came to my concert, what happened after the concert, and the afternoon in the park that led her to her leaving town.

I talked about how my friends met her friends, and how we'd gone out in town, where yet another photograph of Emma and I was taken. I talked about how I met KT, how I slept with her but I did not get her pregnant, as I was still in touch with her (I made extra sure I didn't just repeat 2009 with KT), and our fight in the restaurant. I described how beautiful she looked on Christmas over my house, and how even more stunning she'd looked when Dylan, the asshole, had bailed on her date. And I spoke of where we were now, revealing the truth after five months of hiding it.

"This isn't just some random girl who I knocked up accidentally," I tried to explain, maybe to the people who were developing a hatred of me. I knew it was wrong of me to keep this big of a secret, but if I had revealed it any earlier, something would have gone wrong. If Nina and I weren't at that certain point, our relationship would've collapsed. We were sturdy as a rock, now; no tearing us down. We stood still like a pyramid.

"I met Nina in 2009, in that coffee shop. God, she was the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl — woman — that I'd ever known, and she still is today. I couldn't imagine my life without her; she makes my life a bit brighter, even though she could be a pain in the ass sometime. I knew her for four hours before we started having sex, so it wasn't a relationship in the least, but it led to something good: Emma.

"And now on the topic of Emma," I announced in a sing-songy voice, playing with Emma's hands off camera. It was like she wanted to declare a thumb war with me because of how much she was wrestling with my fingers. Sometimes I wondered what was going on in her two-year-old brain. "She is my daughter. There's no denying it. I didn't even need to take a paternity test when she sent me that photograph, because I knew. It was true. Sure, I didn't want to comprehend it, but I knew the truth. Emma Martin is my daughter as well."

Questions appeared. Insults were streaming in at the speed of light; it seemed all the viewers thought of the girl I was in love with was that she was a slut and a whore just because she'd had sex at fifteen. You shouldn't judge someone for their choice to have sex or not; it was like an abortion argument. Abortion was a woman's personal decision. She's carrying the baby. She was the uterus, the man does not, therefore they have no opinion or say in this matter. Abortion — and the choice to have sex in the first place — is a personal choice and no one should be judged for having it or not having it.

"I'm sorry this is coming so quickly," I apologized again, glancing down at the questions column again. "But...Nina means so much to me, she really does. God, I am, like, so in love with her...I couldn't imagine my life without her, she's that amazing. She's beautiful, and pretty, and smart, and and wonderful...and all these adjectives I couldn't even begin to name them."

The room around me was eerily quiet; Emma was as well. It was as if she sensed the tension in the air and just suddenly stopped talking, so as I had full clarity with my voice. "All I'm asking is for everyone to just...not do anything crazy," I reasoned. And which, of course, would just go over the fans' heads. Soon enough, they'd be burning either mine or Nina's house down because of the Twitcam I was currently giving. "Be a human being and respect us. I love Emma more than anything in the world right now," I admitted, smiling down at my daughter, brushing some of her dirty-blonde hair out of her face to see her eyes; the eyes that she had inherited from me.

"I love them both so much," I stated, smiling sadly to myself.

What as I supposed to do now? Aaron was going to murder me in my sleep tomorrow. Fans would go in a rage and burn someone's house down. Magazines with the headlines from this Twitcam would be printed all over town. I'd be scheduled to talk about this for a long, long while. And the thing that most frightened me of all the other things: I'd have to talk about the night Nina and I had together, in both the coffee shop and the flat I had lived in at the time.

"I guess this is it," I muttered, staring down at the filed comments and questions that I should have been answering, but wasn't. The idea that I would have to talk about our night together scared me more than anything else, and I wasn't quite sure why. I had been there, I had experienced the love for myself; so why was I so deathly afraid of speaking of it. "Thanks for being a great — well, semi-great — audience. I'm guessing tons of magazines will be printed about this Twitcam, so this is why I'm ending this here. If you watch all the talk shows and interviews I'll have be to on, you could get more of me from there. But here's the final sentence to finish this off with: Nina Marie Martin, who lives in Picton and attends Callina Academy, is the mother OF MY BABY, MY VERY OWN CHILD, Emma Grace Martin. Yes, I got a teenage girl pregnant when I was sixteen and she was fifteen. See you all when I see you, and I hope you're good people to all of us."

I clicked the red square button; the Twitcam didn't go as smoothly or as swiftly as I had hoped. It didn't cover all that much, either. But now our secret was out for anyone and everyone to look into.

/o~~~o/

Nina
January 7th, 2013

Going to school the next day might not have been the best idea.

Mara's paranoia was in high gear. I didn't tell her that I had watched Fabian's livestream, so she must have thought I didn't know. I was going to tell her, of course, but watching her cringe whenever I mentioned the name "Fabian" or "Emma" was rather amusing.

Eddie joined us at the bus stop, looking like he wanted to punch someone's teeth out. I was almost going to ask if Fabian was the person he wanted to punch out, but soon voted that out as a bad idea because of his anger issues. I still remembered when I came home from Fabian's house on the evening of October 20th, the same day Fabian had met Eddie and Mara, it looked like steam was about to come out of Eddie's ears.

"Did you watch...you-know-what?" Mara whispered to Eddie, loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough that I knew she didn't want me to hear. I tried to act like I was busy on my phone when Eddie glanced over at me. He didn't say anything, but I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. Great.

I went to sleep soon after Fabian had revealed the truth to the world, because I'd hate to see what people were saying about me on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, or any social media website at all. I could see my name on magazines because of how big of news this was, saying "Nina Martin is the Mother of Fabian Rutter's Child!" As if I was nothing more than that.

That was what made me fall for Fabian, in the end; he never acted weird around me because we'd seen each other naked in 2009. He never used our night together against me. He might have had a rough exterior around people he wasn't comfortable with, but he was a sweetheart underneath. He had the cutest smile whenever he took a picture of himself for fans in the mirror, and that little thumbs-up thing he did whenever he was happy made my heart flutter. He was ambitious, and smart, and curious, and handsome—

"Nina, the bus is here," Eddie's American accent was very much distinguishable in the sea of Brits surrounding us at the bus stop. When my head shot up, Eddie's brows furrowed and he asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I answered quietly, as the bus doors opened. I tried to hide my smile as Eddie lightly helped me up the stairs, since my balance had been a bit off and unstable since I had been pregnant. I sat down next to Mara and Eddie sat down next to Patricia. Joy was who-knows-where, but Patricia glared at Eddie and me, just like any other day. I didn't think much of it, but then again, I was thinking much of Fabian and the cutie pie he was, plus how much our lives were about to change.

v v v

The only class I had with Mara and Eddie was Lunch, meanwhile some of the people that had introduced me to Fabian's music in December 2010 were in some of my earlier classes.

Melanie, this girl who lived on my block and who I was friendly with before she'd turned on me when I got pregnant, sat down next to me in Chem class with clear goggles strapped to her face, clarifying her jade-green eyes.

"Hi," I greeted, figuring I'd be the bigger person here and act like she hadn't ignored me for the past three years. "What's up?"

"You paid him, didn't you?"

That's when I realized why she came to sit next to me. Melanie was a fan of Fabian's as well.

I sighed in exasperation, closing my Chem book with the worksheet in it. "You know, I do remember him telling everyone quite clearly that I did not pay him."

"So you watched it?" Melanie's vibrant auburn hair, tied in a ponytail, flung around her face with her words. Her hair color was brighter than Patricia's was, even though they both had red hair. and it made me hate my dull dirty-blonde hair even more than before.

"Of course I watched it," I breathed, a bit of sarcasm leaking through my tone. "Why wouldn't the mother of Fabian's child watch him reveal the truth to the whole world?"

Melanie scoffed, smiling in delight. "Oh, come on," she pushed, her British accent dripping, "that can't be true. You know it isn't true!"

At a quick glance, I saw desperation in Melanie's expression. She understood the truth: the person sitting in front of her was the mother of Fabian's child. She had been since May 25th, 2010. But she couldn't tell anyone because they wouldn't believe her, but Fabian himself had confirmed the truth. One of Melanie's favorite singers had been a father this whole time and she hadn't known. She didn't want to believe it, and I understood that. I still remember that I took about 25 pregnancy tests back in September 2009 before I finally admitted the truth to myself.

"I can't believe it," Melanie continued, staring down at the Chem notes squished underneath the textbook's papers. "Fabian Rutter knocked up you, out of all people. But you're...American. And mean. And bossy. Why would he sleep with you?!"

"I guess he saw the good in me," I said sadly, staring down at the CHEMISTRY IS FUN! textbook sitting on my desk. Melanie shook her head in disbelief, pushing herself out of the seat next to me, muttering She has to be lying before walking away and laughing to herself.

I knew this would happen, I warned myself of it this morning, yet as she walked away, I wanted to hide my face in my Chemistry book and cry. If I knew people wouldn't believe me back in 2010 about who the father was, what made me think it would be any different now, on the 7th day of 2013?

I sucked in a shaky breath, letting a few tears fall. People still didn't believe me, even when Fabian had stated the truth live in front of ten thousands of people. I was in the back of the class, as usual, but my already-quiet sobs were drowned out by the chatter of the entire class.

As I cried, I tried to think of the reasons why Fabian would have feelings for me, because Melanie was right. I was mean, cruel, bossy, and I didn't know how to take a joke. I was boring, selfish, careless, secretive, and unreliable. I was nervous, rude, quick-tempered, jealous, and fussy. What good could he see in me, when I had no good traits to me?

I wiped a few tears away when I heard my phone beep. I blinked hard, and checked the message, seeing it was from Fabian: Is everything going okay in school today? (PS: I still can't get used to having your phone number.)

I smiled at his Post Script; Fabian wasn't known to bring humor into frightful or sad events, but seeing Fabian happy made me happy. He had called me this morning and talked to me about how I should keep a watchful eye out, since people were cruel and since everyone in the world was able to know that I was the mother of Fabian Rutter, a famous person's, child, school wasn't going to be pretty. While I assured him that I'd be fine, he was still on edge. I responded with Going fine, but keep on hold. I figured that would soothe his nerves.

I wasn't taking any chances.

v v v

It was 20 minutes later when Kelsey Carver, a girl in my age group, approached me. She was a quiet one, so I didn't hear much out of her in class.

She wasn't in my Chem class, but she was in French, and that's when she came up to me. I greeted her the same way I had greeted Melanie, but this time on edge. My cheeks were dry; I had shed my tears. She couldn't hurt me even if she tried.

However, she wasn't there to do any damage. "It's okay," she whispered, moving her hand to my shoulder, probably an attempt to comfort me. "I understand."

"No you don't," I muttered, pushing her away like I usually do with everyone else. You'll never understood."

And they wouldn't. No one, not even Eddie and Mara, would understand the pain I went through when I was pregnant, and the pain I still go through now. Just when I thought the teasing would stop when I gave birth to Emma, the day I came back to school, it got worse. It never stopped, and now the life that I lived in was just a whole bunch of lies; that is, until yesterday, when Fabian had finally saved me from drowning in my own ocean of lies.

"Oh, don't I?" Kelsey's voice was light, almost joking. I looked up from my French notes and I met Kelsey's dark brown eyes — they seemed to share the same knowledge that I did.

That's when I realized: Kelsey had been pregnant at about the same time I had, in the late months of 2009 and the early months of 2010. No one had known she was pregnant until she was really big; no one pestered her like they pestered me, since more rumors had swirled about me than anyone could ever imagine.

Kelsey smiled. She understood just as much as I did, and that was a first for me. The only thing that differed between us was that everyone in the school knew who the father of my baby was, while Kelsey's was still in secret.

She tore a piece of paper out of her notebook and quickly scribbled seven numbers down. "Call me sometime...if you need to talk."

With that, Kelsey smiled again and walked away, a picture of Harry Styles peeking out of her binder.

v v v

The rest of the day consisted of points, yells, and calls out in the halls. One of the jocks with a cheerleader girlfriend pushed me down in the halls between fifth and sixth period, skinning my wrist open on the hallway floor. The broken skin stung like a bitch, but I ignored it as I walked into the cafeteria to finally share a class with Mara and Eddie.

"So you watched it?" Mara asked carefully, looking up from the homework she was doing hours earlier than she was supposed to. "You know...that your secret's out?"

"Judging from all the taunts I've received today," I said as Eddie sat down with chicken nuggets on his tray, "yes."

"I'm sorry!" Mara exclaimed quickly, throwing her pen on the table. I watched it as it rolled off the side and clattered on the floor. "I didn't...I didn't have any say in this...if I knew what Fabian was going to do I wouldn't have sat down and done nothing—"

"Mara, it's fine," I laughed lightly, smiling sadly as a bunch of girls walked past, stopped abruptly to point and laugh before walking away together. I rolled my eyes, but Eddie, always the tough one, picked up a chicken nugget and waved it in the air threateningly. He was oh-so-scary. "The decision was mutual. I said that it was okay if he did it."

"Really?" Eddie asked disbelievingly, biting off a piece of chicken nugget with his teeth. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything; not after all the names people had called me. If someone saw me eating, they might call me fat, or something worse. "I can't believe you said that. Patricia's been texting me nonstop all day. I got my phone taken away from me once because she was ranting about 'payment to Rutter', whatever that means. She's confusing. You know what else is confusing? Why chicken nuggets were invented."

"What?" Mara asked incredulously; I laughed along as well, but I was trying to soothe the itch on the broken skin on my wrist without touching it and stinging it even more than it already did. "Why would you think that?"

"Because when you think about it," Eddie had this manic look to his eyes, like the subject of chicken nuggets excited him beyond comprehension. "Who thought: I'm going to take a chicken cutlet and cut it in the shape of a dinosaur and sell it?"

Mara and I stared at each other for a long time, trying not to crack up at Eddie, who was staring longingly and with a confused expression at his dinosaur chicken nugget in his hands. It made me wonder if he'd had any alcoholic drinks before coming in to Lunch. I was almost on the verge of hysterics with Mara when Patricia Williamson walked over with her best friend, Joy Mercer. Now, those two had been cruel to both Mara and me, not just me alone. Mara could usually brush their comments aside, as could I, but lately I had been letting their words get to me.

Now, after everything that had happened last night, I feared for my own safety, and that was something that should not have been happening.

"So, who do we have here?" Patricia snarled, moving her glance from Mara, to me, then back to Mara, and finally resting on me. Joy was glaring at me, which I could understand, but didn't particularly like. "Two goody-two-shoes with the man of my dreams. Why don't you two scoot along?"

"No, they're quite alright, Patricia," Eddie, somehow now all sobered up, commented. Patricia was standing right next to him, so he had the ability to grab her wrist to prevent her from doing anything she'd regret. "I like spending them with both of them."

"Even with her?" Joy finally spoke up, not moving her glare from my direction. She pointed her red nail to me, conveniently forgetting about Mara. Eddie's protest to leave the two of us alone, his convincing argument being that we has friends with us. "One of my favorite singers, Fabian Rutter, had a twitcam yesterday. And he revealed that he's the father of her baby, because she has a child, because she's a little slut."

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but Eddie gasped in mock surprise and said with false shock, "A famous person is the father of one of my best friend's baby?!"

Patricia rolled her eyes with more annoyance than I had done. "You knew this whole time, Slimeball?"

"Well of course I knew," he stated matter-of-factly. "I've known since December 2010."

"You couldn't have known since December of 2010, because it isn't true!" Patricia protested yet again. Knowing that this was all a repeat of what had happened since this morning, I tried to brush it to the side and play with my meal, but instead Patricia decided to continue making me feel worse than I was already feeling. "There is no way in hell a famous person banged her. He's obviously lying! She's just looking for attention!"

"And what if she isn't?" Eddie answered calmly. However, I wasn't looking up from my food, so I couldn't see what their expressions looked like. For all I knew, Eddie could have been laughing at me. "What if she didn't tell the entire school that Fabian Rutter was the father for two and a half years because they wouldn't believe her? Looks like she was right again."

"Fabian Rutter cannot be the father!" Joy protested, having the same exact desperate look to her eyes. She didn't want to admit that one of her favorite singers had kept a secret from his fans for this long.

I'd never thought about Fabian's side of the bargain; he must have been wallowing in pity, because fans and others must have been yelling, screaming at him for keeping this big of a secret hidden. I couldn't imagine what Aaron, his manager, would be talking about; probably something about how the news he released could have waited until later, it might have ruined his career, I was a horrible person, blah blah blah. He was probably suffering just as much as I was, because his career in music might have just ended, because of me.

"I refuse to believe it," Joy muttered quietly, but her voice rose when she threw her voice to me. "You're just looking for attention, aren't you?"

"Totally," I muttered sarcastically, sitting my chocolate milk around the paper carton. "Because I just love attention."

"Oh, come off it!" Joy's voice was a mixture of desperation, anger, and confusion. "You're rude, and uncouth, and presumptuous, and I am leaving now."

"Good riddance," I muttered, which maybe wasn't such a good idea. Once again, I reminded myself that sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut in some situations.

"You are so annoying!" Was the best insult she could come up with. "You think you can just waltz up to Fabian and charm your way into your life, can you? Because you're just that sweet?" Her voice was patronizing; very bittersweet. It was like she was planning to give me a pat on the back after insulting me. "Well, you can't. Fabian's very sweet, and kind. He may be shy and have a rough exterior, but I know him! I've even met him in person once or twice, so I'd know. He's come so far in such a short time, after being in such a rut in his old school. The 'Nina' he talked about in his twitcam couldn't have been you. He wouldn't have slept with you, I know he wouldn't.

"You're lying," she said again, probably just to reassure herself. "Back before August came around, he was actually happy. And then you sent him that dumb photograph and every concert or event he's appeared in, I've noticed that he's been rather upset about something. I don't know what and I don't know why, but I'm presuming that the reason is you, because apparently he's a father, and the mother is sitting right in front of me!"

I looked down at the food again; knowing I was bad for Fabian was something that had been pounding in the back of my mind since he reunited with me back in August. I knew it was hard on him; I had just sent him the photograph out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever. I didn't find him first, or remind him of what we had that night in 2009, then tell him the news that he had a daughter after he'd warmed up to me. No, I'd gone in cold turkey, and sent him the photograph to figure it out himself.

"I don't want to be a bad person," I repeated, thinking of that huge argument Fabian and I had had back on November 15th. He had called me so many names, and some of them were mistake and a bad person, which were two things I didn't want to be. And hearing them from Fabian had really torn me down; I remember, on the 16th, the day after our argument, all I did was cry. He had called me some disgusting names, so they were all I called myself for the next month and a half. "I didn't mean to make him depressed or unhappy."

"Well, you did, you little bitch," Joy spoke, and I could literally feel her words piercing through my walls. Fabian had commented that all I did was build more walls instead of tearing them down like I should have done, and maybe why I built them more than tore them down was because people constantly tried to invade and attack. "You ruined his career with your little stupid child, who has a slut for a mother. Your child will amount to nothing, because it has no father."

I tried not to cry in front of her, but a few tears leaked out. I was stronger than tears, I knew that, but I didn't know that people would take the reveal this horribly. If I knew how they would treat me, I wouldn't have agreed. I'd rather live in secret than live with bad treatment. "Aw, are you crying?" Patricia was the one to speak up this time.

I didn't know why Eddie and Mara weren't doing anything, but I was focused on the two girls standing by Eddie; they were determined to destroy me, but I wouldn't let them. I was a bigger, better person than they were. I was stronger than they thought I was.

Unfortunately, destroying me is just the thing they were about to do.

"Ugh, you're such a dumbass," Patricia said, as if that was the worst insult in the world. "You know, if you were twice as smart, you'd still be stupid. I don't listen to Fabian's music like Joy does, but I don't even see what Fabian sees in you; like Joy said, you're rude, vulgar, and very much so boring! And first of all, you're not pretty at all. Hello Kitty said goodbye to you," she joked, laughing along with Joy.

I wanted to punch them. I wanted to yell at them and tell the what horrible people they were to be tearing someone down like this, especially someone who's been in as much pain as I have. They didn't know how uncomfortable I was when I was pregnant; actual comfortableness with my big stomach, and the uncertainty that my baby, the baby that was growing inside of me, wouldn't have a father. The teasing and taunting was at its height when I was pregnant; it got so bad that at one point, I considered suicide, but I talked myself out of it in hopes that one day, I would find the father.

And then I did find him. And now people were insulting me instead of congratulating me.

"Just leave him alone," Joy had that desperation to her voice again, but this time it was more of a I don't want to see my favorite singer upset anymore kind of hurt. And I admired that in a way, but instead, the two just continued to insult me. Mara wasn't making any noise, and I was glad she wasn't; if she had spoken up, Patricia and Joy might have turned on her, too. "You're ridiculous, you do know that? What made you think you could become a part of his life? He's talented and successful, and you're...well, I don't know what you are, but you're nothing compared to him. You just want attention. You should have left him alone! Don't you want to see him happy? And if you say you love him, well, love is when someone else's happiness is your happiness, but that doesn't seem to be the case for you."

Patricia said, "You're all those insults I said and more. You don't deserve Fabian, he's too good for you, and you're so bad. You'll only ruin him, because that's all you do. You're a whore you should have given the baby up for adoption but instead gave into cuteness and kept her. That kid will go nowhere in life because when they meet her parents, they'll see how young she is. Fabian Rutter's career is going to decline, because people will hate him for keeping a secret, and for having a child at such a young age. You ruined Fabian's life, because now everyone will care because he's famous. You ruined him."

"You're a horrible person," the other one spoke up patronizingly. "He'll be hated all around the world because of you. Ugh...you're...you're...you're just a slut. With no future. You can't go to college because you have no parents to look after your kid, so you'll have to stay behind and take care of her yourself. You'll have no education from college, therefore no job. You're stuck here forever. You ruined yourself, you ruined Fabian's life, and you ruined a poor toddler's life, too! I might never be able to listen to Fabian's voice again because of you. He's going to announce it to the world of everything that you did with him, whatever it may be. And then you'll run away crying, like you usually do, and claim that everything he'd said wasn't true. You ruin everything! You're a horrible person, and you always will be. You can't change who you are."

v v v

So I ran away, like the little baby I was. I cried silently after I left the cafeteria, without a hall pass, rushing into the bathroom and making sure no one was in here. When I saw that it was empty, I locked the door from the inside, and after holding it in for another few seconds, but another few seconds was too much. I only lasted five before I let out the sob I didn't even know I was holding.

I cried and cried and was short for breath in a minute. It was that kind of crying that happened when you didn't know what to do; the sobs were quick, breathless, distressing, like you were stuck on a cliff, and you couldn't pull yourself up. As many times as I told myself, "Stop crying, you're better than them", more sobs just came and went. I cried until my eyes were as red as tomatoes and my cheeks could be compared to Niagara Falls.

I sucked in one deep breath, my sobs not quite yet calmed. I couldn't believe myself that I had wasted so many minutes in this bathroom alone, crying, telling myself to stop crying and to be the bigger, better person and go out and face them again, but all I did was cry at the thought of that. What if everything they said was right? What if I was a horrible person, what if I really did ruin Fabian's future? He could be getting abused by Aaron right now and I'd have no idea.

Ignoring the headache that was pounding on me the entire time, I whipped my phone out from my pocket and tried to silence my cries once more. I didn't care about the fact that Eddie or Mara never tried to find me once I had ran off, holding back tears. I didn't care that I hadn't heard the doorknob jiggle once, meaning someone was trying to come in.

I didn't want to speak to Mara. I didn't want to speak to Eddie. I didn't want to speak to my daughter, or my grandmother, or my guidance counselor, or my therapist whom I hadn't spoken to in almost a year. I wanted to speak to Fabian. And, luckily, I had given him my phone number exactly a week ago.

The first ring came, and I told myself to stop crying, but the tears never ceased. I was still gasping for breath, tears on my cheeks, as the rings continued. It didn't help me when I thought of Aaron beating Fabian because of how much damage he'd done to his own career, because thinking of that made me think of Fabian, bruised and bloody and broken at the hand of his manager. Thinking of him cringing, wincing in pain, made my heart ache. I didn't even realize that Fabian, perfectly okay, had muttered, "Hello?" when I thought of him beaten, so he said, "What's wrong?" when I gasped in pain.

"Nina, are you okay?" Fabian's voice, over the phone, asked. Hearing his voice made me calm down a bit; it always had, even before I was in his life. When I found out who Emma's father was, I couldn't go a single night without listening to Fabian's voice. I'd fall asleep to it, I'd memorize it, and I could hear it in my head in school when people picked on me and I would give anything to be in his life. And now I was, now the truth was revealed, and the taunting was even worse than before.

"Shh," he attempted to calm me down, even though that didn't do anything. "Love, it'll be okay. Try to calm down for me? Deep breaths. One...inhale. Two...exhale. Good, keep doing that. You're doing fine, just come on."

He was silent for a minute after that, being very patient while I collected my breath and calmed my sobs. He whispered soothing, calming words into my ear over the phone, singing the song he had sang on our night together in 2009, while telling me how much he believed in me that I could calm down from the panic I was in.

"Are you okay now?" He asked me carefully. It made me grateful that we had exchanged numbers; if I hadn't given it to him a week ago, who knows what I would have done right now? I told him, after a long take-in of air, that I was fine, and thankfully he believed me so there were no useless questions about how I was doing. "Nina, if you could...what happened to make you this way?"

"Come get me," I stuttered out of the blue, surprising Fabian so much that he didn't speak for a good ten seconds.

"Oh," he suddenly responded. I felt bad that I had shocked him so thoroughly (I also hadn't asked him how he was taking this whole reveal incident, so I felt bad about that as well.) "Well...are you sure?"

"Yes," I pleaded, my voice clear, but still cracking with leftover sobs and tears. "Please, Fabian. I can't take this anymore."

"Nina," he breathed. I could tell that he wanted to come and get me — he didn't like seeing me upset, just like I didn't enjoy seeing him in distress — but he also knew what was best for me. A few stray tears leaked out, and I brushed them away quickly so they wouldn't get in the way of my speech. "You know I want you to be happy. I hate seeing you in pain. But you only have, like, an hour and a half left of school, right? Can you get through that, for me?"

"Please," I told him, "I want to go home."

"Aw, love," he murmured, and I heard papers rustling in the distance. I liked the stupid pet name he gave me, even if it was stereotypically British. "I wish I could come get you, but Aaron's coming over here in a few minutes to give me the talk about the Twitcam we had yesterday..."

I felt bad taking him away from his work; I didn't want to be branded as selfish any more than I already was. For a moment, I considered telling him that I could get through the day, but then I remembered I still had an hour and half and two periods to go before school officially ended. I couldn't last that long. Something would happen to me in that time, and I didn't want to be here when it happened.

"Please," I muttered again, wiping the tears away as soon as they fell. "I'm sorry, just, please."

"Okay," he told me immediately.

"Thank you so much," I sobbed gratefully, leaning my head back in pleasure. Just the idea that Fabian was taking time out of his day for me, especially with his manager circling his prey, made me happier than beyond comprehension.

"No problem." I could practically feel Fabian smiling through the phone. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Try not to be seen, because I don't think this talk with Aaron is going to go so well."

/o~~~o/

HELLO EVERYONE I HAVE NEWS

season one of hoa has FINALLY arrived on amazon, and for american disc players this time! it's just in time for the holidays, so make sure to extend your grabby hands because i don't know how much longer it'll be around. it's my favorite season out of the three we had so hell am i not getting that. i'm on s2 of my rewatch right now but if it means i get to watch eugene's handsome face on my television again then i'm rewatching it.

the next chapter is my favorite one! it's "the kiss" which is completely self-explanatory. i know the fandom is dying out, but don't give up on me just yet, okay guys? i'll still be around, because just THINKING about the stupid touchstone of ra can make me cry. i don't get emotional over fictional stuff that easily, and if it can make me sob harder than the nearer my god to thee scene in titanic (which is one of the saddest and most-heartwrenching scenes i've ever watched), then it just shows how much this stupid kid show means to me.

also, i realized that i've been on this site since april of 2011 and no one has seen my face other than paige and amber, so i decided to finally show my face. links don't work on this website so i'll have to try to write this the write way so the website doesn't delete it. (post/70417974807) is what you put after (queen-sallyjackson). and you add a tumblr dot com to that link as well. and there, voila! you have my face for the first time in almost three years.

if you're confused about the "kelsey" thing, it was just a reference to the old version of this story, when it was a 1D fic all the way back in December of 2012. kelsey was my oc, so she was basically nina in the older version. oh and by the way i only made joy cruel because i needed an antagonist, she's my second favorite female, ranking after patricia, so i do not hate her; in fact, i hate fabina more than i hate joy. she's my ray of sunshine, my little joyless ball of happiness. i honestly love joy and i hate what i keep doing with her character, but i really, really needed an antagonist.

days to write, seconds to review. i do hope you enjoyed!

-lia