Day Six.


A Cannon in the Wind;

The Fifth Hunger Games.


Daniel Church, 17;

District Seven Male.

I open my eyes, immediately wincing at the sunlight hitting me square in the face. Turning away from the window, I curl into a ball, allowing my mind a few more minutes of rest before I start the day. I just… I just don't feel up for it today. It being the Hunger Games, of course.

I don't usually feel this lethargic when I wake up in the mornings, but there must be something in the air, because I really don't have the energy that I've had every other day in this arena. I just feel so...empty? Is that it?

Whatever it is, it causes me to lay on the floor for approximately five extra minutes before getting up. I roll on my feet and stretch my tired muscles, being careful as not to pull a muscle or anything. I'm not a very superstitious person, but I'd feel pretty unnerved if I had to start my day off so uncomfortably.

But honestly, I'm in the Hunger Games; there is no comfortable place in the arena, no matter who you happen to be. I've learned this the hard way. I thought that if I was a Capitol-favorite, that old Gamemaker would do anything and everything to keep me alive and comfortable. But obviously that's not true.

Echo was a Capitol-favorite, definitely, and she's been dead for a few days now. London from District Ten, too, was killed not too long ago. I realize now, favorites or not, that everyone in the arena is in trouble of dying a horrible death.

Even me.

Cringing at the thought of my demise, I glance at Tet, who's sound-asleep on the lone bed. This house has other rooms, sure, but I didn't feel comfortable leaving Tet alone during the night. I also didn't feel entirely safe on my own.

You're going to have to get over that, Daniel. I wince at the cold voice in my head; nobody other than my brother, Luke, would have such a hard tone with me. You do realize that Tet will have to die eventually, right? It was noble of you to recruit him under the pretense of helping the unlucky, but it's day six and numbers are dwindling fast. You're going to have to cut him off soon.

The thought of my younger ally dying fills me with an immeasurable sadness; it's not even funny how much my heart hurts at the thought. I've gotten attached. I knew that I would end up making bonds with some of the other tributes, but I thought that I was resolved to cut them off at any given opportunity. Now I just don't know anymore.

I can't see myself winning anymore. I can't imagine being the Victor, with Iris and Calla and Tet all dead.

Is that bad?

Shit, I'm losing it in here. I place a hand on my forehead, trying to calm my frantic thoughts. It works, I think. I don't really know. I hardly know anything anymore. The more I stay in this arena, the less I feel like I know up from down.

Suddenly, I hear movement. I turn around, just in time to see Tet waking up from his slumber. The moment his squinted eyes rest on me, it's like he automatically wakes up, because his back stiffens and a small smile graces his features.

"Good morning," he says automatically. I shift uncomfortably under his smile; after he assisted in killing Vesper, I can't help but feel like he's cracked. He has this...proud aura about him, like he finally figured out an answer to a long equation.

It's unnerving.

"Good morning to you as well," I say, swallowing my apprehensive thoughts and replacing them with my leader-like demeanor. I can't afford to be weak in front of Tet. He's like an apprentice of mine now, and what kind of example would I be setting if I were to break down? As long as I'm standing confident and strong, even if it's starting to feel like a facade, then he can take from that and grow stronger.

Tet hops out of bed and immediately goes over to his backpack, resting on the other side of the room. He still has that unnerving smile on his face as he searches in each of the compartments, nodding at everything he pulls out. After a few seconds of just staring at him, I decide to go over to my own backpack, which I stole from Vesper after killing him. It didn't have anything edible, unfortunately, but the sponsors cleared that problem up as soon as Caio from Four ran away.

Double-checking the medical supplies and miscellaneous items, I zip the backpack up and drop it back on the ground. When I turn around, however, Tet has his backpack strapped across his back, and he's staring at me almost expectantly.

"Is there an issue?" I question, tilting my head.

Tet's still smiling as he responds. "We've stayed in this house long enough, haven't we? Wouldn't it be smart to hunt down other tributes and take their supplies before we run out?"

...What?

"Um…" For the first time since I can remember, I'm absolutely speechless. There is something different about Tet. Something that awakened when we were attacked by the mutts and unleashed when we killed Vesper. "Tet, are you feeling well? You understand that you have no reason to push yourself, right?"

"I'm feeling okay." Tet's smile twitches, before momentarily falling to his usual deadpan stare. "Are you okay?"

Not really. "Of course."

"Then you should agree with me when I say that eliminating the other competitors would be beneficial to our success." He smiles again — and it's now, right now, that I realize how messed up this arena has made my younger ally. I can't predict his mindframe — I never could, honestly — but I'm genuinely worried by the thoughts flowing through his head right now.

He's right, in a way. Going after the other tributes could lead to great rewards. But what else will he think afterwards? I never pinned Tet as a backstabber, but is it really so unlikely when his impressionable mind has become so warped by the Games?

"...Okay." I don't know what to do. The thought of killing Tet makes my insides churn. The thought of killing anyone today makes me feel so exhausted, honestly. But what else am I supposed to do? If I say no to his request at hunting, he could get the idea to betray me sooner rather than later. But if I were to say yes, it'd be fueling his idealogy that this...is right.

This isn't right. The Hunger Games are most definitely not right. I've been playing the game as best as I can, but I can assure anyone that this is not okay. Not at all.

Before I can respond, however, Tet opens his mouth yet again. "Think of Calla."

Everything seems to freeze at the mention of her name. I widen my eyes, staring at my younger ally like he's nothing but a stranger. I feel my blood slowly but surely begin to boil — but I push it down. I thought that… I thought that I was finally at peace. After avenging Iris, I thought that I could get through these Games without anymore vendettas.

But I can't. Not exactly. I still don't know who killed Calla, and that eats away at my insides every single day. I miss her so much. I want to… I don't know what I want to do. Calla's killer could already be dead and I'd never even know.

Unless you win. Then you'd know.

But it'd already be too late.

"We already eliminated Vesper Quinn from the competition, but we have absolutely no idea who killed Calla. Don't you want to know, Daniel? Don't you want to get revenge on your district partner?" Tet takes a few steps towards me, and I see the glint of a knife resting in his small hands. I tense. "I stabbed Vesper; I got revenge on my district partner, and you simply helped me. But you technically still have revenge to dish out. How can you just sit in this house while Calla's killer could be out there, murdering someone else?"

I don't know how to respond. This is not my ally. Tet would never have said so much, just in the feeble attempt to get me worked up. Thankfully, I still have my wits, so I'm not going to recklessly burst out the house like an idiot; but there's something sitting near my heart, something aching, something that wants nothing more than to tear apart anyone who could be associated with Calla's murder.

"Have you even thought about who it could be?" Tet continues, his voice blank but his eyes sparkling in intensity. "The main killers were obviously the Pack. None of the other tributes strike me as cold-blooded murderers, especially not in a situation like that. Do you remember the bloodbath, Daniel? Do you remember seeing Calla at all?"

"No, I don't." As soon as the words come out of my mouth, though, a sparkling image flashes in the pit of my brain. The barn, with tributes rushing to the center, and Tet jogging along the edge, and Iris nearing a backpack, and Calla…

Calla inside of the Cornucopia, shuffling through the weapons.

My expression must tell everything, because Tet nods.

"Yes, she was in the Cornucopia. And the only people who would kill her would be the Pack." The thirteen-year-old boy suddenly sighs, looking away from me and to the floor. "This is just speculation, though. There's no way to know for sure. Well…"

I know that I shouldn't be falling for this, but I can't help but lean in, slightly engrossed at my ally's intelligent monologue. It may just be speculation, but it does make sense.

"Echo Woods was fighting Kaya Vause, while Kostos Sylett was fighting you. Adeline Callard looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly. So…" He looks back up at me, eyes dark and light at the same time. "The only person left who could have done it would be Terrance Vallier."

Just as he says those words, the door to our room abruptly swings open. I jump, astonished beyond belief, and turn just in time to see Terrance Vallier from District Nine rushing straight at me, a claymore held tightly in his hands.

The only person left who could have done it…

Time seems to freeze. His dark green eyes stare straight into mine, and I detect not a trace of hesitance nor sympathy. All I see are the eyes of a boy who's committed murder; a boy who killed my district partner, my friend, and would do it again without a second to spare.

...would be Terrance Vallier.


Tet Kender, 13;

District Three Male.

Before that fight with Vesper Quinn, I never understood a thing. I never understood why my parents had seemingly abandoned me to live in a run-down orphanage home. I never understood why the other kids my age, and even the ones older than me, would never even look at me without wrinkling their noses. I never understood why I was so much different than everyone else around me.

I never understood why the Capitol repressed the districts so callously. I never understood the Hunger Games, and I never understood how people could actually find satisfaction out of kids killing each other. Wasn't that supposed to be sickening? Wasn't that supposed to be taboo?

I never understood why I, out of over one-hundred-thousand children, was reaped for the Fifth Hunger Games. Why was I so special? Was it my fate to go through this ordeal and win? Or was I simply destined to die as entertainment for everyone else?

I never understood a single thing.

And then I stabbed Vesper in his torso, and everything just clicked.

It all adds up; the alienation from my own people, the strong-controlling-the-weak mentality of Panem, and then the pivotal moment of my reaping. I was different. I am different. Nobody can truly understand me because I'm destined for partaking in the Hunger Games, going through bloody trial after trial, and then coming out on top with a better understanding of the world we live in.

This world thrives on pain and runs with the blood of children. The Hunger Games isn't about stopping the rebels or anything like that. It's about enjoyment, pure and simple. And if I'm going to win, I'm going to need to enjoy every last bit of this; I'm going to need to not wince in the face of danger anymore.

That's why I didn't think twice in stabbing Vesper. That's why I didn't think twice in persuading Daniel, my older brother-figure, to leave the house by using Calla's death as the thesis.

And that's why I don't think twice in charging at Terrance as soon as he bursts through the door.

I wasn't expecting him at all, honestly — but this is perfect. In blaming him for Calla's death, Daniel will methodically chop him down, just like he did with Vesper. And me? I'll still be alive without a single drop of blood staining my hands.

I'll hide behind Daniel as he kills for me. And when we get to the finale? Well… I don't really want to think about that right now. Right now, all I need on my mind is eliminating Terrance Vallier from the competition.

Killing isn't wrong, after all. Daniel unknowingly taught me that — and I look up to him more than anyone else in this world.

Terrance sees me coming for him and abruptly stops running, slashing at my head with his weapon. I quickly duck, just in time, before leaping for his legs. He groans angrily, trying to kick me away — but before he can do such a thing, I raise my knife and stab him straight in his left leg.

"Stupid brat!" He growls, violently grabbing me by my hair and tossing me across the room. I blink, confused, staring at the bleeding cut right under his knee. I didn't actually stab him; he must have jerked and made me only slash him.

That's when my head hits the wall, and a surge of dizziness overcomes me. I cry out in pain, clutching the aching bump in the back of my head, squeezing my eyes shut. That hurt a lot more than I expected. Was I getting ahead of myself in thinking that I could manipulate everything in my control?

I almost forgot; humans are incomprehensibly complex. It's impossible to determine the rash things that they'll do.

Slowly opening my eyes, I watch in slight interest as Daniel relentlessly strikes at Terrance with his sword. My ally has a deadly, almost psychotic look in his eyes, and every swing of his sword is charged with the tantalizing possibility of revenge. My words have been successfully rooted in Daniel's brain. He truly believes that Terrance Vallier is responsible for Calla's death, when it could have honestly been anyone else. And now that he thinks the boy from Nine is the cause of all of his pain, he'll kill him without a spare thought.

If I knew that people could be manipulated so easily, I would have used my words more a long time ago.

I expect for either of them to say something, but neither of them do. Daniel is too focused on the task of chopping Terrance to pieces, while the boy from Nine is too focused on not being chopped to pieces. He successfully manages to block every single strike from my ally, their swords slamming against the other and cutting through the silence.

Even though I'm doing nothing but watch, I have to admit that the amount of energy leaving their bodies is echiliariing. Two teens, fighting for their lives, knowing that one or the other won't make it to the next day. This is what Panem is all about; this is what that old Gamemaker was trying to tell me.

The only way to make it out is to play the game.

And people will play the game.

Terrance suddenly sucks his teeth, Daniel's sword suddenly cutting him across the bicep. I can see the blood on my ally's sword, and I can see the slash marring Terrance's arm. The boy from Nine is slowing down, ever so slightly — and if this keeps up, Daniel will end up victorious in a matter of moments. Earlier, I might have been a bit worried that Daniel was losing his edge — but the fire burning underneath his eyes is as plain as day.

He's going to win.

A small smile creeps across my face. Of course my role model is going to win.

"You're an idiot," Terrance suddenly says, his voice strained. The more that he dodges and strikes, the more that he's losing. "I heard—" He ducks, narrowly avoiding Daniel's blade from decapitating him. "I heard everything. If you really think that I killed your ally, then go ahead and believe a little kid. But you and I both know what's going on."

Daniel doesn't stop his assault for a second. "Shut up!" If Terrance thought that his words were going to save him, then he was surely mistaken. If anything, that just made Daniel a lot more aggressive in his plot to kill him.

Before long, Terrance can't evade anymore, and his sword flies out of his hand. The boy from Nine falls on his butt, looking up at my ally in pure hate. These are his last moments alive, and he knows it.

Daniel's eyes are stone cold — and looking at him from this angle, watching as he raises his sword up for the final kill, I know for certain that nothing will be able to stop us. Not the boy from Two, not the girl from Eight, and definitely not this idiot from Nine.

Checkmate. I smile.

Until Terrance opens his mouth again, and my smile is wiped clean off my face.

"You're just using me as an excuse to hide the fact that you killed Calla!"

Daniel's eyes widen, surprise rushing all throughout his face. He hesitates — and that's all the time Terrance needs to grab his claymore off the ground and slice straight through Daniel's left leg.

...What? I blink, something heavy pressing against my chest, so heavy that I can't seem to breathe at all. Daniel screams, trying to stab at Terrance one last time, but he can't balance on just his right leg and ends up missing terribly. He falls on the dusty wooden floor, screaming bloody murder, a horrifying pool of blood oozing out of his leg. Terrance quickly rolls off of the ground, panting, staring at my ally with furrowed brows.

And then his gaze shifts towards me, and I feel like my entire life has once again been nothing but a lie. A cold, unforgiving lie.

"Argh..!" Daniel groans, a small whimper coming out of his mouth. I look back towards him, wincing at the sight of my powerful ally being reduced to nothing. Even if he were to survive the amount of blood coming out of his wound, there's no way he'd be able to win the Hunger Games with just one leg.

He's finished.

But that doesn't mean I am.

"Run," Daniel whispers, looking up at me. His dark eyes are watery, his expression tortured. I feel something clogging my throat, an intense sadness overcoming my entire body. My role model — dying. My entire world — dying.

Everything is dying.

Everything except me.

Terrance moves towards me, but I quickly run to the door, tears blurring my vision. The stinging, watery substance is almost foreign; I can't remember the last time I've actually cried. And right now, I don't have the time to remember, because the boy from Nine just eliminated my ally and he's coming for me next.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Daniel screams from behind us, before another pain-filled groan leaves his lips. Terrance suddenly stops, turning around, but I continue running for my life. I go through the door, turn the corner, and then run straight out the house. There's nothing on my mind other than survival, other than getting away, other than trying to make sense of this unpredictable world I live in.

The moment I make it outside, a huge gust of wind blows against me, forcing me to squint my eyes from the intensity. I don't know what's going on with the weather today, nor do I particularly care, but all I want is to get as far away as possible from the site of another death.

BOOM!

I wince at the sound of a cannon, knowing that my ally has finally reached his end. His usefulness is gone. But not only that, the one person I could look up to...is dead.

He's dead.

I don't know how long I run, but I run and run and run until my heart begins to painfully slam against my chest. I slow down to a slight jog, but I don't stop completely; I won't stop. The pain of losing Daniel is so thick, so malleable that I can almost touch it. Every time I blink, I can see nothing but the last look he gave me, his face scrunched in pain and his body weakened to nothing, yet his eyes looking as powerful as ever.

Is this my fault? Or would this have happened regardless? And what do I do now? What can I do without him?

Once again, in my most vulnerable moment, I find myself asking questions and gaining not a single answer. I guess I haven't really changed at all. I'm still that wiry, scared kid who didn't understand a single thing. And even when I thought that I understood, I really didn't.

I'll never understand.

I fall to the ground, letting the grass coat me and letting the cool wind blow against me. Tears stream down my face — and I can't do anything except sob and scream into the air, wishing that I had another chance, or wishing that someone would just explain.

And then, that's when I hear it. A soft ding, hauntingly soft but loud enough that I can clearly hear it. I look up, wiping my face, staring at the small box floating down from the parachute. I don't do anything; I simply watch as the parachute falls right in front of me, revealing the contents within the small glass box.

A hammer and a scalpel, tied together with a rather long piece of rope.

They don't even have to send a note to convey their idea; even though I've just lost the closest person to me, the Capitol doesn't care. All that they care about is their entertainment. Giving me a moment to grieve just isn't important to them.

And if it's not important to them, why should it be important to me? I feel my chest constricting, but I swallow down my sob and reach for the box in front of me. Maybe this is what was supposed to happen after all. Maybe… Maybe all three of my allies were supposed to die.

Unlike Daniel, maybe I needed a role model that was invincible. Maybe I needed a role model that would never submit to anyone and anything.

Maybe… Maybe I need the Capitol.


Eion Daltier, 18;

District Twelve Male.

I don't know what to do.

I haven't been able to leave the Cornucopia. Every time I so much as look outside, a paralyzing fear strikes the center of my brain, forcing me to take refuge deep inside of the barn. Without Isabel and Ricky, there's no way that I can simply go out and take on the arena. I can't do anything all by myself.

I never realized it before, but everything is a lot scarier when you're alone. With my two allies on my side, the world seemed bleak, but it was manageable. I could go through another day, fighting hunger, as long as I had Ricky to joke with and Isabel to comfort. I could even lie to myself, saying that everything was going to be alright, when everyone knew that nothing was ever going to be alright again.

But without them, what can I do? I can't… I just don't...

Honesty is the best policy with me — and honestly, I'm scared of being alone. That's just the plain truth.

But at the same time, every minute sitting in this barn is driving me insane. My body is screaming at me to walk around, to be active, to do something. And not only that, but the stench of death is slowly starting to overwhelm me. I don't know how many people have died in this dusty barn, but I can feel the heavy spiritual energy suffocating everything. I'm not a very religious person, honestly, but there's something unnerving about this place — and I hate it.

"Fuck..." I groan, slapping myself in the face, trying to stop my brain from wandering so much. "Just calm down, Eion. You're okay. You're alive and everything is going to be alright."

When did I become such a liar?

I bite my lip, feeling another onslaught of emotions attack my brain. My eyes skim over to Ricky's deteriorating body, still lying on the cold wooden floor. It's honestly haunting to look at him, knowing that he'll never get up again, knowing that he was just murdered without a second to even react. Seeing him like that fills me with so much sadness that I can't even process the right words to describe it…

But at the same time, deep inside, there's an anger that's growing stronger with each second of sitting here. An anger that threatens to swallow me whole, turning me into someone that I'm not; this fire inside of me wants to do nothing more than slaughter Kostos Sylett, the District Two murderer who killed Ricky in cold blood.

Tears spring to my eyes, my chest constricting at how frustrating this all is. I want to go out there and murder Kostos; I want to hide here and sleep my days away. I want to stab and cut and tear Kostos apart; I want to cry into my hands and never stop. My mind is so conflicted on what to do, and it's honestly the worst feeling in the world.

"Stop it…" I jump up from the floor, punching the golden Cornucopia with all my might. Instantly, the searing pain of my knuckles slamming against the metal forces me to cry out in pain — but that's good, because I need pain if I'm going to fight agaisnt my mind. I'll do anything if it stops me from thinking about literally everything.

Trying to endure the pain of my hand, my legs seem to gain a mind of their own as they walk me over towards the broken window at the back of the barn — the same broken window that Isabel hopped out of to escape the duo from One and Two.

Bristling, I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I'd regret. Every time I think of my district partner and the way she just abandoned me to save herself… I don't know. I just don't know. Another set of conflictions battle inside my mind; one part wanting to cry and the other wanting to...hurt her.

"Shut up!" I hit myself in the head again, trying to stop my thoughts with everything in me, trying to stop the flame from growing. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I smack myself a few more times — but no, every slap makes me think of the pain I want to inflict upon Kostos.

I want to hurt him.

No amount of lying to myself can stop that fact from surfacing; I want to avenge Ricky.

I want to kill Kostos.

There's nothing more to think about; there's nothing else I want to think about. That homicidal brute from Two killed my friend, and I have to avenge him. I wouldn't be Eion Daltier if I didn't get revenge for my loved ones. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let that guy get away with ruining the small life I managed to make with Ricky and Isabel in the Capitol. If I don't… If I don't throw aside my morals and kill Kostos Sylett…

I storm over to the Cornucopia, the fire in my chest growing stronger and stronger with each second. It's people like him, people like Kostos who volunteer to hurt others, that ruin this nation. And I'm going to stop it all right here. I'm going to prove to this entire country that even the boy from Twelve can dish out some vengeance when pushed far enough.

Grabbing the spear out of the Cornucopia, I walk over to Ricky's rotting corpse, the arrow still plunged deep inside of his head. His skin is turning a dark shade of blue, and I absently wonder why the Capitol hasn't sent for his body to be picked up yet. Are they waiting for me to leave? Or are they expecting me to drag him outside? I snort at that thought; no way in hell I would ever do something like that.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, looking away from his body. I close my eyes, momentarily letting the anger wear off, replacing my thoughts with ones of happiness. I remember the first time I met Ricky; I had impulsively added him to the alliance without any thought on how he'd feel. Looking back on it now, it's kinda funny in a sad way.

I still remember the way he smiled after agreeing to join us…

Instead of sadness filling my veins, it's the immeasurable anger that decides to stick it's head out at me. I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you, Ricky, I think, grinding my teeth together. But I will avenge you. I won't let that monster get away with this.

I grip the weapon in my hand, allowing one last second of mourning, before I turn away from the corpse and head towards the door. I push it open, feeling that same feeling of fear overcome me — but unlike the other times, I fight through the fear, inhaling a breath of fresh air and stepping out into the windy arena before me.

For a moment, confusion crosses my face as I stare out at the vast expanse of grass. Shouldn't it be...storming right now? Usually it'd be thundering, considering yesterday was a normal day. Is that old Gamemaker planning something?

Whatever. Wind or rain, nothing is going to stop me from achieving my goal of taking Kostos down. The clouds in the sky are a bit gray, and the wind is a bit more erratic than usual — but other than that, nothing else is out of the ordinary. No crazy muttations running around. Nothing at all to distract me from my goal.

Taking one last breath of air, I ignore the anxiety in my stomach and focus on the anger. I start walking away from the barn and into the rolling fields of grass.

The next time that I come back to the Cornucopia, Kostos Sylett will be dead.


Daniel Church, 10th: Corner-kun, you've been with me since… I don't even know how long. You know how unreliable I am when it comes to stories. And yet, you always support me on everything I do. It means a lot. Even though we don't talk on a regular basis, you're still one of my best friends on this site — but alas, Daniel was simply destined to go down in this fight. When I first got this guy, I honestly didn't know what I was going to do with someone like Daniel. But with your constant suggestions, plans continued to form and form in my head — some plans that I'm still going to be using, even now — and this guy had grown his own little character arc. I admit that he might have been a bit difficult to write at times, and I sometimes still feel like I didn't fully flesh out Daniel's character as much as I could have... But nonetheless, I'm proud of the route this guy went through! The fact that he still had Tet's safety in mind, even after all that happened… It truly shows the kind of guy that Daniel was. :') May he rest in peace, and let's hope that Luke doesn't go crazy… (I will write a little something about the families after I finish the Games, by the way!)


Author's Notes: HEY GUYS! I'M BACK! I was gone for a long time, I know, but I'm truly sorry for that. I think I needed a bit of a break to get back in the groove. Christmas vacation is on the horizon, and I do plan on writing more and more! :) I still plan on finishing this story, guys! Don't worry!

BY THE WAY, I'M UPDATING THIS ON DECEMBER 15TH. EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO IS WHEN I STARTED THIS SYOT. CRAZY RIGHT? I know I go write extremely slow, and I've lost most of my readers, BUT HEY, we're on the final 9 and things are going to get a bit more hectic…


What are your thoughts on each of these tributes? Which POV was your favorite and why? Which POV was your least favorite and why?

For some reason, it's not storming. You know by the arena's pattern that today should've been raining cats and dogs — but for some reason, the Gamemaker seems to be planning something different. With the gray clouds in the sky and the wind blowing harder than ever, do you think you can predict what's going to happen next?


Honestly, I don't expect many reviews for this chapter. And that's sorta my fault, considering how long it took for me to update this. BUT however, I do thank the small amount of people who take the time to read and review my chapters, even with my terrible schedule! You're loved!

Okay BAI!